Home again

The plane tore through the dense clouds, into a world of gray and rain. The cabin shook, and the passengers shrilled slightly as the turbulent air made the plane drop suddenly. Moments later, we landed, welcomed to The Netherlands by pouring rain and a cold, cold gust of wind.

Welcome home, David. And the first welcome sign was a big fine by the revenue bureau. I simply cannot lie, and when the customs officer asked me whether I bought anything from abroad, I said a laptop. He looked at it, estimated the cost, and I was later to pay 19% value added tax (VAT). 150 Euros, merciless and no discussions. Enough to pay a month's worth of food. So much for buying the laptop I have always wanted in Taiwan, thinking I would save a lot on costs.

Luckily, brother was at the airport to pick me up, and his company made the trip home in the rain almost bearable. The roads were empty, soaking in rain, and the wind was strong. Coming from the bustle of Asia, you could easily mistaken a lazy Sunday morning in Europe as the land of the dull and the dead. Only when my cat greeted me with her miauw and tail at the door did it seem like there was any life or warmth.

A 16 hour flight, over 9000kilometers across the world, and I have arrived in another world. Perhaps it is the weather, perhaps it is the tiredness and grogginess from attempting to sleep sitting almost straight up because I was afraid to wake up the person behind me hadI lowered my seat, but this place is such a contrast from the home I left back in Taiwan. And yet, less than two months ago, this place seemed like the comfortable and quiet home I could return to for shelter and warmth. It will take some time before I get used to here again...

Last night, I said goodbye to my mum, turned the corner of the staircase as the image of her standing in the doorframe disappeared from sight. Moments before, we hugged deeply, twice. More moments earlier, I handed her a notebook, the cover of which, in small print, said: "Somethings if not done now will never be done". Flip open the first page, and I wrote the words: " Smiling is the best self-cure". When mum received news that she could be discharged from the hospital a few days ago, I had taken a picture of her which captured that intense and heart-felt joy of relief. I had enlarged that, and developed some other pictures of flowers, sunsets and of me, for my mum to keep her company as she faces the next few sessions of chemo therapy in the coming months.

To be honest, I got frustrated as the time ticked by to the moment of departure. Why did I have to leave? Why did I have to leave my mum behind? There seemed so little time to do all the things I wanted to do... like tidy my dad's room more, so that mum would not have to face it all alone... like clean up the house, so that mum would not have to strain herself wiping and washing... But the last few days of my stay in Taiwan seemed to go by so quickly, without me realising it. Tuesday last, my mum came out of the hospital. The next day, we stayed home to recuperate, and Thursday I quickly went out to meet a friend and to do a quick shop of the things I need... Friday I went to see my dad at the temple... and Saturday was the day of departure itself. Naively I would think to myself, as I often did as a child, how wonderful it would be to be able to stop and turn back time.

But time passes with every tick of the second hand. And the past six weeks have gone by so quickly. Thinking back, what have I really done? Mum thinks a lot, and as we hugged one another goodbye last night, she thanked me again and again for all that I have done... but somehow I think I did only what I could, and only what a son ought to do. Nothing much more, nothing less.

At the airport, just before I headed for the departure gate, I made a last-minute call to relatives and friends to bid them all farewell, and to wish them well for the coming time till we meet again. I spoke to a cousin of mine I have always been very close to, and naturally tears began to fell as I recounted that moment when dad passed away... I saw those moments I held dad's hands in my own, I remembered those words I whispered to dad in the hope that he would let go and move on peacefully. And I could not control myself but started to cry in the airport hall. It seemed like all the spotlight was on me, all at once all these people started to appear and pass me by out of nowhere. I turned against the wall, and wiped my tears. "I think I have no regrets. I hope I have not disappointed them. I hope..." I said silently to my cousin as I chocked on my own tears, "I hope that dad and mum will be proud of me..." My cousin reassured me that they are indeed proud of me, and that they have every reason to be.

The plane roared upwards, and the wheels made a thudding sound as they left the ground. My physical 'connection' with my home-land was severed in that very moment, as the plane flew higher, and higher skward. The plane turned around and started to head south, along the western coast of Taiwan, flying over the lit and bustling towns and cities below. I was unfortunately sitting on the side of the Taiwan Strait, which was pitch dark, save for the very occasional faint flicker of fishingboats below.

"Goodbye, my home! Goodbye, my loved ones! May you all forever remain as beautiful and peaceful as I remember you."

I have made this trip many times before. I have bid farewell to my parents many, many times before in my life. Each time, leaving them is such a painful and sad process, and I can easily remember each departure clearly. I can still remember the tears, taste the sourness I felt in my heart as I tried to grasp onto those moments when they were still standing before me just before they are separated by the glass wall of the departure hall.

But this time, as the plane soared on higher and further away, I was somehow at ease with myself... I was not crying, as I had expected, but my mind moved on from moment to moment, resting in that very moment, without lingering in the past or wandering around in the possibilities and dramatic scenarios of the could-bes.

Sixteen hours later, the plane touched down in the rain and the wind. And I was home again.