Goodbye, mum

It was a quick goodbye, and perhaps therefore less sad than expected.

I walked around the house again, silently blessing each and every room, corner, hoping that the house will take care of mum, and of itself, until I return. Mum’s help, Ms. Hsu was there too, and as I hugged mum tightly the first time, she looked up from doing the laundry, and jokingly said “No tears! No sad goodbyes!” Again, she promised to take good care of mum, told me not to worry, and said that I should call home often. Which I do.

Mum was in her pajamas, and a clear tube leading from a pouch around her waist was showing. She apologised for not being able to accompany me to the airport, and she felt bad that I always pick her up, but that she cannot do the same for me. No need, no need, I said. Life’s journey is often traveled alone.

Even though she was in her pajamas, she still wanted to help take my suitcases downstairs. She donned on a thin coat, and wore a simple pair of slippers. In the elevator I patted her back, told her to take care, to exercise everyday, and to eat and rest well. “So attentive and caring,” she said, as she smiled and looked at me.

The wind was blowing, and overnight the temperature had suddenly dropped to below 10C. I could feel it. Through the fragile sun, I could feel the wind, the damp, the cold as I remember it back in Canada. Even so, mum stood by the front door, braved the wind, which blew her hair sideways, and waited with me until a taxi turned the corner.

As I stepped into the taxi, just before I closed the door, I saw a mother, looking tired and frail, yet with all her strength and love accompanying her son, savouring every moment of togetherness, for as long and far as she can.

Goodbye.