Eclipse of the moon

It's not often that the moon eclipses, and even rarer that for a few moments in a couple of years the moon is completely aligned with the planet and the sun. There's a beautiful song about eclipses and the rising and waning of the moon, and how it seems to resemble the people you meet and leave in life... there's a time when the moon is bright and full, and when it shies away into the darkness... just as there is a time of meeting, there is a time of parting.

Dad was already home and packing his bags when we arrived at close to midnight. Our day to Belgium, and tour of the picturesque 'medieveal' city of Gent went so smoothly that even the weather cleared the moment we arrived and as we wandered the cobbled streets aligned with history and culture.


As soon as we paid and got out of the parking garage, we realised there was a big problem. The automatic window on the driver's side didn't want to go back up... and though it was sunny outside, nobody felt like driving two and a half hours at over 120km/hr on the highway in freezing temperature. So we called the car rental... and got referred to the car manufacturer... and were referred to an insurance company... then got referred to the Dutch Automobile Association... after an hour or so on the phone (with ridiculously high international roaming tariff!) we finally then got transferred to the Belgium Automobile Association. A repair man was promised within thirty minutes.

But it turned out to be another two hours before the window was fixed, and before we could leave the city. Perhaps the city didn't want us to leave, or at least, our memories of our mini adventure in Gent would never leave us.

I walked up to dad as soon as I came home, as I hadn't seen him for a day. We chatted a bit, connecting like we should have but never had much chance in the last two weeks because he was almost never at home. But I guess better late than never. How frail and thin he looked, the gray hairs on his head catching the light of my bedroom ceiling light. We chitchatted as he packed his bags. To be honest he has very little with him, and very little to take with him... and often when he picks up something he would then say I probably need it much more, and stuff it into my hand. It's typical of him, being so thrifty and stingy toward himself, but so giving and kind to me (especially).

A couple of moments our fingers touched. I felt the roughness of his darkened fingers, dark from years of smoking and years of work. It was an emotional touch, one that was accentuated by the fact that as he packed his bags he began the 'pre-departure' talk on how I should take care of myself, how I should eat well and mind my health, and that if there's anything I ever need, he'll support me to the end...

These kind of 'pre-departure' talks always seem to make my heart waver and eyes go moist. It's in those words of reminder and in the 'take cares' that reveal that despite dad not daring or not wanting to say it, he does care about us... or, perhaps, at least about me. I replied in a way I have often done, and out of my heart. Like so many times in the past, I told him that he is one to take good, good care of himself, to mind his health and to be happy. I told him he can enjoy his retirement without a care or worry in the world, and that nobody else is able to guarantee his own health and happiness than himself. Dad listened and looked down. He didn't say anything, but I believe in the eyes that avoided me temporarily, there was a shimmer from the way words you hear seem to touch you deeply.

Mum was next door in her room and she too was packing her bags. She and I still have to have our 'take care' talk, but for the most of the last two weeks, I've been with her and telling her that she too needs to live well, live happily and be free from misery and confrontations. I'm sure she knows how I feel, and there's nothing I've not already said.

I stood in the corridor in a position from which I could see both my dad and my mum in their separate rooms, separated by walls, busy packing their separate bags and lives. In truth, deep down I still had that sliver of hope I had been holding onto since childhood that they would be happy and loving together... but at that moment, though not a new moment of suddenly realising something for the first time, as I stood between the two of them, each in their own rooms and in their own separate lives, I knew it was for the best. It was, and is, meant to be. This way noone gets hurt...

I watched the both of them doing their own thing, ironically their backs were facing one another. Both middle aged, and aging more. Both my parents, and forever more. My mind flashed back to the arguments and 'cold wars' they've had since I was a child, to the arguments and 'cold wars' they had in the past two weeks... silently I said to myself I have done more than enough... I have said more than enough, and I must let go again, let go and let them just be. As I walked downstairs, I looked back at both of them again, wondering the next time will be when I will get to say good night and sleep well to them both. Silently, I wished them both good health and happiness.

In a couple of hours, it is time to say goodbye.

Talk with dad...

"To put it in a way that sounds terrible to hear, when I'm gone I couldn't care less what happens to this all."

Dad said that a few moments ago, and I was again taken aback.

It's rare that I talk to dad, and even rarer for a long time. When he came home late tonight, I walked up to him and tried to start a conversation. Who would have known that lasted two hours. Except the two nights he spent at home and had dinner with us, this was the longest time dad and I sat together in the living room in the past two weeks.

It started slowly, and mildly, small chit-chat about what we both did today, and where we went. I said I went to see a friend of my mum's, who took care of me and treated me like her own son in those years in high school when I lived completely by myself. It's been over five years since I last saw this dear friend, and I told dad how surprised I was at how people age and grow old. In a way, I was hinting at my dad, and made it more plainly so when I said to dad that even though that friend has grown old and looks somewhat tired, she still lives happily from day to day enjoying life, and enjoying the company of her husband in their house in the middle of the woods. Dad merely scoffed and wondered aloud what boring lives these people must lead.

It always seems to be like this when I talk to dad... you tell him one thing, and he comes up with negative things and complaints to say about that something or someone. And it's worse when it comes to any subject remotely related to either mum or brother... then it sometimes frightens me how much of that deep seated hatred and misunderstanding arises and bursts out, as talk clenches his teeth and gathers this tense, angry look in his eyes. Then, there were also moments when we connected, as we recalled moments in the past, moments growing up and when I was young. It seems like just yesterday when I first set steps in Europe, and now I've lived here almost 16years. All the ups and downs, the falls and climbing-back-ups. The sweet, bitter memories...

Since tomorrow is the last day of his stay here, dad told me what he thought about the past two weeks. He said he needed to explain why he reacted in the way he did. I sat and listened, nodding at times to show that I am listening and that I understand, as he talked about how he needs to protect his self-interests against "certain people", to guard against "other people" who might infringe against his rights and squander all his money, and about how he needs to be able to know that he can be in control of his money and assets. He ranted on about how the "other people" have treated him so unkindly and rudely, how they have shown him only a long and unwelcome face. Dad ranted on about how angry and disappointment, more than any other time he can remember in his whole life, of the "worthless dog" he raised. These 'other' or 'certain' people were no other than my brother... and to some extent my mum...

Angry, hurtful words... I sat and listened and nodded in understanding, but deep down inside I searched (hopelessly) for any show of emotions and love that may or may not be hiding behind dad's attachment to money and assets and profit. Perhaps it's years of working in a bank, or perhaps because he had a poor and deprived childhood growing up with five other children in poverty, but to him money and how to make or own more seems to be the most important thing in life. He even said it himself, much to my disappointment, that a house is nothing more than an investment. I said that a house is a place where you go back to to feel safe and sheltered from the outside world, but dad insisted it's nothing more than a "commodity" on a market in the capitalist world to invest in and to sell for profit...


At one point I asked him what he plans to do in the future, and how things should go between him and mum. Dad said he lives his life and doesn't want any one to bother him or interfere with how he lives, and started to berate mum for caring about what he eats and what he does all day. Taking this opportunity, I asked him why they don't simply live separately, or better still, divorce all together. I explained that, like I told them , and so many, many times in the past, I really don't want to see them live unhappy lives and have to suffer because they don't want to be with or see each other. I said, like I said so many times already, both of them are already so ill, and both need a calm and peaceful environment of living that is free from agitation and frustration, and living together is simply not helping anyone. Dad hesitated a little, and finally admitted: "To put it in an ugly way, I don't want to divorce because then mum will get half of everything."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry... all he cares about is money, money, money... I was surprised myself, but I asked a question I didn't know I could ask: "What if she divorces without having any of your money...?"

There was no hesitation, and in a loud, firm voice, dad said: "OK! I agree."

I was saddened, and a tingly feeling went up my spine...

Dad, where is the dad I used to know?

Dad, who have you become?

Colours of the Rainbow

It started with a new belt I bought last week, one with the patterns of the rainbow flag on.
Of course, it must have started much earlier, as mums have a sort of intuition for the 'ins and (very much) outs' of their own sons.

As I was putting on the belt this morning before going out, mum commented that she didn't really like the belt, and suggested I put on something else. I said I really like this belt, and she responded by asking what's so nice and special about it. I replied that it's the pattern, and sneakishly added that the pattern "says a lot".

Before my parents arrived, I sort of had this urge to 'come out' clean to them about my sexuality, and have been really searching for an appropiate moment to do so that wouldn't be so... dramatic. We've had enough drama already in the last few days. I more or less knew that mum would be the one I'd tell first, and dad would have to wait, if ever!, since he's more 'old fashioned and traditional'.

There was a chance last week, when I went to attend that posh event at the Peace Palace wearing a pink tie. Dad said that it looked "gay", but because the day earlier the others had just had a great big confrontation, I didn't make too much of it. I only replied: "So what if it looks gay? Gays are people too."

This morning, it was just my mum and me, so I pushed my chances a little more. After my sneaky comment that the belt "says a lot", my mum sighed a little, and said: "That's what I'm afraid of. I know it's a rainbow flag."

"Oh... does that matter?"

"I'm afraid you have that tendency. And you have that Brokeback Mountain poster in you room, I'm really afraid you have those feelings."

"HA! Tendency, smendency!" I scoffed.

"Well, you sort of told me sometime ago, and it made me really worry about you."

"What's there to worry about? I'm fine! There's nothing wrong with me at all!"

"But you have that tendency, and I'm afraid you are."

"It's not a tendency. It's natural. It's nature, it's nurture, it's everything and nobody knows how to explain it. I'm just who I am," I said firmly.

"I'm afraid you've fallen into that 'trap'." By now we were on our way to a park for a walk since the weather was so fine.

"Trap! I'm already so deep in there's no escape," I joked, thinking what a ridiculous use of word it was, and laughing inside.

"I really don't wish you'll be like that."

"Why? What if I am already?"

"Why, you ask? Because I'll be disappointed. I'll be very, very upset." Mum shook her head a little and looked into the distance.

"But what can I do about it? I am who I am, there's nothing wrong with me." I looked at her, and nudged her a little on the shoulder. "I mean see it from a Buddhist perspective. Who knows what or who I was in my past life, and this is just who I am now. I can't change it."

"Those sunglasses I gave you [a few days ago], I think I should take them back. I think over the years I've given you things to use and wear that are feminine, and so that may be the reason."

I laughed a little. "This has nothing to do with that! Fine, you can take back the sunglasses, but I'll still be who I am. There are a lot of reasons, like I said, and it has nothing to do with clothing"

"You know I've always wanted you to find someone and be happy with. To have someone to share life with..." she said quietly.

"And I can! And I want to, with someone I care about and love. A person I want to be with."

"Do you have someone now?"

"No... who do I have in my life? Noone. But I really want one," I said, looking around at the empty park I often go alone on my own, "I come here often and feel so very lonely. You know, I'm so 'old' already, and I shouldn't have to worry about how you and dad are getting along, I shouldn't have to be in the middle of brother and his girlfriend's relationship. I could just go and get a life of my own with someone, but no... I care too much about you people, and care too little for what I want..."

Mum didn't say much after that. We sat on a bench in the park, bare rose bushes and green, green grass and an expanse of water waving in the wind stretched before us. Seagulls flew overhead, as crows fluttered their wings. There was a light breeze in the air, and the sun shone on our faces. "I want everyone to be happy... but I need to be happy too."


We didn't touch upon the subject any more after that, and mum didn't react angrily or become more distant toward me. Like I said, she suspected already, and there have been hints here and there I've been throwing at her over the years, and now it's finally (come) out into the open. For the rest of the day we talked and walked around like the close mum and son we are, admiring the little spring crocuses that dotted the grass fields, even in the hustle and bustle of the city centre.


Little spring crocuses that were so colourful, beautiful and free with their buds freshly opened.

Reaching out

Dad came home a little bit earlier tonight, and I was still in my room trying to finish the readings for class tomorrow. I was a little surprised to see him, and the first thing he said was how windy it was this afternoon that he could hardly stand straight. As usual, I smiled and asked him what he did and where he went today. And, as usual, he replied “just here and there”... which mostly likely meant the same old place where he usually goes. I packed up my books and went into the living room to study further.

Soon he came down after me, and sat down on the sofa behind me. He continued talking about the weather today, and how it has so suddenly changed so dramatically and unpredictably. True, this morning it was wonderfully sunny and bright, and suddenly it poured with rain and a storm started to blow, but at times I wasn’t sure whether dad was still just referring to the weather, or unconsciously talking about something else... May be just my over- associative and imaginative mind at work.

We actually sat down and had a good half hour or so of solid conversation. Nothing deep, nothing groundbreaking in our relationship, and certainly nothing about the events of the past few days. But it was at least conversation, and more moments of bonding, even though it was mostly about things like how ridiculously prices have risen since the Euro, or how so many things have changed since the last time he visited, or how the weather is so different from before. We did talk somewhat about my future, and in his mind, he still insists that I must go on to get a ‘permanent head damage’ (PhD), because frankly to him all my other accomplishments mean nothing. Besides that, the short time we spent talking and bonding were so very precious... When he finished, he slowly walked upstairs, and as usual before leaving my sight, he turned to say: “Don’t go to sleep too late, ok?”

And as usual, I said to him: “OK, you go sleep first, and sleep well.”

Earlier in the day, I spoke to a good friend, who happens to be a professional psychiatrist, and who has for a long time been really caring and concerned about the wellbeing of me and my family. I had told her about the recent events at home, and dad’s sudden dramatic and unpredictable changes of ‘weather’. There were things that my friend mentioned that really struck me... at this point in life, my dad is really reacting and acting in a way a small child would, trying to test the limits of other people’s tolerance and love, by ‘crying’ and ‘screaming’. In truth, it’s a desperate cry for help, and however much the anger and outrage is, the pain and suffering inside is much, much deeper and more extensive. Perhaps, dad is not aware of how he is hurting people by what he says and does, but he must be very, very afraid and uncertain because, in all honesty, everything and everyone seems to be slipping away... his health, his job (now that he’s retired), even his family, and most of all, his life... everything and everything seems to be beyond his control, and it’s a normal reaction to want to cling onto something like money, or even find ‘refuge’ in an addiction like his gambling habit, in order to escape.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised the meaning of what my Buddhist spiritual guide once told me... nobody is ever ‘wrong’, just ignorant. Ignorant of the degree of pain, greed and suffering he is undergoing, and the degree of the pain, greed and suffering he is causing others. It doesn’t make you ‘bad’ or ‘worse’ as a person, because as human beings we are all so fragile in our emotions and beings... It’s pointless to react with anger and frustration and agitate someone who is already so angry, frustrated and agitated. Just accept, just acknowledge his pain, suffering and illness. Just accept him as he is, and send him compassion and understanding.

Because deep inside is a scared little child, trapped in an old and dying person, wanting and longing to reach out.

"No..."

I suspected as much, but I asked anyway.

Like routine dad returned home late, and I was sitting at the dinning room table and doing my homework. He came in quietly, and like always, diverted attention away from the fact he came home late (and from you-know-where) by starting with a flurry of questions. I had told him last night that I got accepted on this selective internship programme of my law department, and the first thing dad asked me just now was how it all went, what the process was, what I still need to do, etc, etc. I answered his questions politely. I looked at him, his eyes were bloodshot, his face tired and haggered, and in the pockets of his trousers his fingers played with coins that made that irritating clinking sounds of metal. Dad... what are you doing to yourself?

Seizing the opportunity to see and finally talk to my dad for the first time today, I told him that tomorrow the rest of us are having dinner together with some friends and colleagues of my brother. Well, brother never had the intention of asking dad to go, and I knew almost completely for sure that dad would never go, but I asked him anyway. Of course, as expected, dad's answer was a definite "no". But I asked, because I really don't want to give the impression that we're neglecting dad and leaving him out of everything. I guess perhaps I'm 'protecting' myself, guarding my own skin, in the sense that I'm deliberately pushing the ball into dad's court, when I know very well he wouldn't want to spend time with us. Probably I want to feel less guilty, and am trying to shift the 'blame' for dad's isolation to himself.

But I did ask, and he said no. And a no is a no.

Life goes on

Life goes on, even when it's not going too well.

The fighting has 'stopped', at least in the past few days, and now it's just another spell of 'cold war', which basically comes down to a total absence of communications between certain people in the family, and not even seeing one another. Even though my parents are only here for two weeks, we've sort of developed this routine, which seems to maintain the peace, and keep everyone more or less out of someone else's way, and so avoid confrontation. Again, I am the only one in the family everyone can and is willing to talk to, and the only one everyone talks to.

Basically brother goes off to work in the morning, whereas I go to uni or work, and mum goes out on her own to places she likes to (re)visit. Dad we practically never sees, since he stays in his (actually my) room and only comes down when everyone else is out of the house. And by the time I come home in the afternoon, my dad has also disappeared, off to his beloved gambling den, and won't be back until around midnight. He'd come home while I'm sitting in the dinning room and doing my work... walk up to me and in a hushed and almost apologetic tone ask what I'm studying... We'd converse a little bit, but soon enough the conversation would die down, and he'd head upstairs to bed.

So I've been spending most of my free time with my mum, even missing a few lectures and missing work, and catching up on the reading and homework in the evenings. It's tiring, but do-able, and I'd rather be tired during the day than let these precious moments of being together with mum go by... because, well, you never know.

We've been out and about, trying to retrace the times and places we once were, going to a few museums and visiting some old friends of hers, and even doing some shopping. It's nice, just the two of us, free and happy to do whatever and go wherever we'd like, without having to think about or take dad's odd temperments into account. And already it's almost the end of the visit, and at times when I'm enjoying myself with mum, in the back of my mind I'd uncontrollably sigh a little and think: " How much longer can I enjoy this before she leaves...?" I dread to think of the parting moment at the airport come Sunday...

Despite being occupied with family most the time, there's some good news with my studies and work. Honestly I haven;t been putting too much effort into my studies lately, and just rush through the readings and papers we have to hand in...but even so, I'm still getting really high grades :) And just yesterday, I was told by my professor that I'm "one of the select few" which the law department will 'officially endorse' for a number of prestigeous internship programmes at the tribunals and institutes here in The Hague. I was pretty surprised to be chosen, since even friends of mine I consider to be much 'better' than me were selected... So, maybe in the coming months I could have something waiting for me when I graduate in the summer; something other than unemployment.

As for work, a colleague of mine and I went to see a potential sponsor this morning with hopes that they will support us in a big party we're organising in April. It's with Dance4Life, an international camapaign originally started here in The Netherlands to raise awareness of HIV/AIDS among youngsters (see right banner!). Like the name suggests, the organisation organises dance events, getting volunteer DJs like the famous and amazing Tiesto to play at the events, in order to raise money for supporting organisations that combat HIV/AIDS around the world. After a good talk with the organisation, we were promised some promotional goodies, CDs, and even a DJ to play at the party! If all goes well and according to plan, it'll be quite a big hit of a party~

So... despite the string of horrible arguments and the difficult task of 'peacekeeping', there are still some things that are going right.

No Pok!

A little humour adds a little miracle to life.

February 28 1947

To those who died and were murdered due to intolerance and ignorance...

May such cruelties of man toward man never take place again in Taiwan, and beyond.

Flower on a Rainy Night
-------------------------

A flower on a rainy night
A flower on a rainy night
Fell on the ground in wind and rain
Out of everyone's sight
It sighs day and night
It has fallen not to return again.

A flower on the ground
A flower on the ground
Who pays attention to it?
Merciless rain, merciless rain
It has no concern for our future
It is not mindful for our frailty
Covering our destiny with darkness
Causing us to fall from the branch
Out of everyone's sight

Raindrops, raindrops
Lead us into the pool of suffering
Not mindful of our frailty
Covering our destiny with darkness
Causing us to fall from the branch
Out of everyone's sight

This moment...

Remember this moment... this moment at ten to one in the morning, when dad is sitting behind me watching TV, while I'm reading and preparing for my classes for the coming week.

Moments before, dad had returned from his daily visit to the casino, and like always when he comes home so late, he comes up to me in an almost apologetic and guilty manner. Usually he'd say something like: "Oh, you're not asleep yet?" I guess it's a show of concern, a sign that he cares, or at the very least his way of reaching out and trying to make amends after the tantrums in the morning.... or perhaps a way to divert attention from the fact that he came back so late and was out gambling again...

I don't harbour hatred toward him, because there's really no reason to. As usual, I'd ask him whether he's hungry, or whether he wants to have something to drink, and he'd then politely decline, but then go make himself tea or something in the kitchen. I'd ask how his day was, and what he ate for dinner, out of concern, but perhaps also as a way of reaching out to him and trying to tell and show him that whatever happened happened, and that I really don't have any animosity toward him.

I'd be working on the computer, like I am doing now, and he'd then be zapping through the channels on TV in the living room, like he is doing now.

This is a moment to remember, for some reason... a moment when dad and I are together in one room, within a few metres of one another. A moment when we are so close, but, oh, so far apart. A moment when we are breathing the same air, when we are together, and in a sense, 'sharing' and 'bonding'. Perhaps only in silence, but then perhaps this is how dad communicates best.

The moment would soon be over, like so many moments to remember. He'd turn off the TV, and walk slowly upstairs. Before leaving the room, he'd quietly tell me: "Don't go to sleep too late..."
To that, I'd then reply, "OK, I'll just finish this off, and go to bed. You go to bed too, and sleep well." Dad would then retired upstairs in my bedroom, where he's sleeping for the time of his visit, while I sleep on the floor in the living room.

Simple words, short sentences. But they seem to mean so much for some reason.

It's a moment, a moment to remember.

Like the one that just passed.

In tears

Again woke up to dad's terrible tantrums and abuse. Now he wants to sell the house we're living in, divorce, and cut off all relations with everyone in the family. He says we're all worthless and "vermin"... even me.

I quietly sat there at the breakfast table and listened to him throw a(nother) tantrum, feeling another day ruined, and my heart break again and again. I simply replied that he can do what he wants, do what he feels like... he can disown me and divorce mum, but he will be an old, bitterly lonely man... he can have his money, he can have his houses, but he will have nobody in this great big world, not even the family he rejects... he can have his anger, he can have his hatred and misunderstandings and he can feel like everyone has done him so much wrong... but he will still be ill and suffer for as long as he lives.

I said those words not out of hatred, but out of hurt and disappointment. I know that perhaps all what he said and ranted and raved about were words that just came up in the heat of the moment...I know that because he is physically very ill and suffering, he cannot but lash out verbally... And I know that he will be gone next week, and things will go back to normal again I emphasise with him, because when you are frail and terminally ill, you become scared and will see everything and everone as wrong and as the cause of your pains... Perhaps I should hav kept my thoughts to myself, and just let my dad rant and rave like a mad man... but, wrongly or not, I felt he needed to hear the 'truth', and needed to hear that he is hurting everyone, and most of all, he is hurting himself.

So I told him, calmly and very frankly, that I pity him. I pity him because he is so terminally sick in terms of his health and state of mind that he cannot let go of all this anger and hatred and suffering that makes him even more ill than he already is. I told him I have compassion for him, because he is so frail and weak already, but pretends that he knows everything and doesn't need anyone else, because everyone is wrong, and everyone is doing wrong to him. He threw up his arms in a sign of victory, and said he is very happy and is better off without the rest of us "worthless vermine".

But I know... I know deep down inside, he is hurting, he is a child crying and so scared of death and illness... I know deep down inside he is suffering, forever dwelling anger, deceit, lies and greed... I know he must be in so much pain, but is in constant denial, which hurts even more...

I grabbed my schoolbag and left the house.

Moments later I was again in tears.