Chapter 14 — Makeup Artist for the Final Journey

The next morning, when An Nhiên returned to Vĩnh An earlier than usual to continue unfinished work, she saw Mr. Ham had woken up, sitting quietly in the waiting room, holding an old phone in his hand, the screen displaying an old, slightly blurred photo.

"Have you found a suitable photo yet?" An Nhiên asked, sitting down next to him.

Mr. Ham showed the phone to her, his voice somewhat shy. "I only have a few old photos, from when he was still at home, more than ten years ago. This photo was taken when he was twenty-two years old, on his birthday, at that time the family was still happy, nothing happened."

An Nhiên looked at the photo and saw a young man smiling brightly, his face much fuller than the thin, sunburnt face of the thirty-four year old man lying in the preparation room. Twelve years is a long enough period of time for a face to change significantly, and she immediately understood that this would be an additional challenge to the recovery process — not only recovering from the trauma, but also having to balance the old image in her father's memory with the real image of a grown man who had spent ten hard years making a living away from home.

"Do you have any more recent pictures? From the company he works for, or maybe friends of mine?" An Nhiên asked, trying to find more reference materials.

"I have no contact with his friends. But..." Mr. Ham hesitated, then pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled down a phone number. "When I was checking in at the construction company, there was a guy whose name was something, my child's roommate. He gave me his phone number and said if he needed anything, he should call. Try calling." An Nhiên called that phone number, and fortunately, Việt Dũng's roommate agreed to send over a few recent photos taken during gatherings of friends at the construction site. Looking at the new photos, An Nhiên saw a different Việt Dũng - tanned skin from outdoor work, solid figure, smile still as fresh as the old photo, but eyes somewhat quieter, as if he had gone through many ups and downs of an independent life in a foreign land.

"He smiles exactly the same in both photos, Uncle Ham." An Nhiên said, showing him the phone. "Even though twelve years have passed, your smile remains the same."

Mr. Ham looked at the photo, his hands trembling, tears rolling down without hiding. "He smiles a lot like his mother. His mother passed away, now seeing him smile like this, I miss his mother so much."

The roommate, over the phone, also told An Nhiên a few more things about Việt Dũng's life in recent years, details she carefully recorded so she could later share with Mr. Ham at an appropriate time. "Mr. Dung is very kind, works hard, saves money to send back home regularly, even though he and the old man don't talk. Once when he was drunk, he confided in me, saying he missed his father very much, but he just didn't know how to say it, afraid he would scold him like before."

Hearing that, An Nhiên felt her chest tighten. She took careful notes, promising herself that she would find the right time to tell Mr. Ham, not to deepen his regret, but to let him know, even without saying it, his son had never stopped missing him during the years of separation.

*

All morning, An Nhiên worked meticulously, combining information from both sets of photos to recreate Việt Dũng's face in the most realistic way - retaining the mature, solid features of a man who had worked hard for many years, but still restoring the freshness in the lines of his mouth, eyes, details that made Mr. Ham immediately recognize the son he once knew.

While working, Mr. Nghi asked more about the family's story, and An Nhiên recounted what Mr. Ham had shared last night.

"Ten years without talking, just because of an argument about studying and choosing a career." Mr. Nghi shook his head, his voice somewhat sad. "I have encountered many such cases in this profession. Many parents think they are protecting their children by imposing what they think is best, but forget that sometimes what their children need most is just to be listened to and respected for their own choices."

"Do you think, if Mr. Ham had listened to his son who wanted to learn the car repair trade back then, would things have been different?" An Nhiên asked, her hands still not stopping her work.

"I don't know, son. Maybe it's different, maybe it's not. But I think the important thing is not to assume what might have happened, but to learn something from what has happened," Mr. Nghi replied, his voice thoughtful. "I hope this story will be a reminder for Mr. Ham himself, if he has other children or grandchildren, not to repeat the same mistakes."

Diệu Thanh, who was helping to rearrange the tool trays in the corner of the room following An Nhiên's instructions over the past few weeks, also listened to the story, her eyes pensive. "I think, maybe many families are like that, sister. Everyone truly loves each other, they just don't know how to express it, or choose the wrong way to express it."

"That's right." An Nhiên replied, not stopping her work. "I think that's also why this profession is important, not only because I take care of the deceased, but sometimes, I also help the living realize the things they haven't said or done before it's too late." Diệu Thanh nodded, remembering An Nhiên's words as a valuable lesson, then continued her work in silence, occasionally glancing at An Nhiên's skillful hands that were gradually restoring Việt Dũng's face, learning every little detail in the way she handled each line.

Near noon, when the facial restoration was almost completed, An Nhiên invited Mr. Ham in to look through the small observation glass, before completing the final details, to ensure he was satisfied with the results before proceeding with the final steps.

Mr. Ham walked in, stood a few steps away from the operating table, looking intently at his son's face which was gradually being restored. He stood still for a long time, to the point where An Nhiên began to worry whether he was satisfied or not.

"What do you think? Do you need me to make any further adjustments?" She asked, her voice cautious.

Mr. Ham shook his head, his voice choked. "No need to adjust anything, miss. This is truly my son, exactly my old Dung. Thank you, thank you very much."

He raised his hands to cover his face, his shoulders trembled, and for the first time since arriving in Vĩnh An, he let the tears he had held back for the past ten years flow out uncontrollably, in the middle of the deserted waiting room, no longer having to maintain the tough facade of a father who was used to bearing everything alone.

An Nhiên stood still for a moment, giving him space, then spoke softly, her voice cautious. "Uncle Ham, I heard something from Mr. Dung's roommate. I think you should know." She recounted what the other friend had shared - about Việt Dũng still regularly sending money back home, about a rare drunken statement that revealed her never-ending nostalgia for her father.

After listening, Mr. Ham stood still, then burst into tears, the cry of a man who had suppressed it for too long and could no longer hold it in anymore. "Does it still love me so much, after everything I've done to it?" He asked, not really asking An Nhiên, but as if asking himself, asking the space in front of him, asking the soul of his son lying behind that door.

"I think, the love children have for their parents, no matter how angry they are, rarely really disappears, uncle." An Nhiên replied, her voice gentle but sincere. "It's just that sometimes, both sides wait for the other person to step forward, to the point that time passes without even realizing it." Mr. Ham nodded, wiped his tears with the back of his hand, his voice was still shaking but somewhat calmer. "Thank you for telling me this. Even though it's late, at least I know that in his heart, I will always be his father."

He sat down on the chair, his hands clasped together, his eyes looking far into the yard in front of Vĩnh An, where the midday sun was shining down on the cool green trees. "I will spend the rest of my life to atone for this mistake, miss. I may not have time with Dung anymore, but I have grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I will not let myself repeat the same mistake with the children." His voice was more certain, as if he had just found a new direction amidst the seemingly inescapable pain.

An Nhiên smiled slightly, nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat relieved to see that her old father, even in the midst of extreme suffering, still found something to hold on to, to continue living a more meaningful life for the rest of his life.