Last night in Taipei

Last night in Taipei for this trip here.

I lie awake next to mum, awakened by her snoring. At least she is asleep, and I try not to disturb her, even though I'm bothered by the noise somewhat. For most of the night, she has been turning and twisting and having difficulty to sleep. It seems to be a reoccuring phenomenon on the first day of the chemo therapy. She would fall asleep for a little while, and then wake up again. As I'm close to her, whenever she stirs and moves, I wake up too. As much as I can, I try to comfort her, to make sure she's alright. So far, she has still be able to eat normally, but it may be different tomorrow, she said. She only threw up once, but that was perhaps because she ate a little too much before sleeping.

This time tomorrow, I should be well into my flight across the Pacific. It may seem like a terrible time to be leaving her, in the middle of her current chemo treatment and all. But we spoke about it again tonight just before bed, and she was confident, hopeful and in bright spirits. Earlier, the doctor said that if her condition improves, she may not need to finish all eight chemo sessions. Which means she does not have to suffer the adverse effects of the treatment longer than necessary, and which also means she will be fit to travel after May, and definitely in June. I encouraged her to keep that healthy spirit alive, to exercise, to continue to believe that it will all be better. And she seemed to really be determined to go on. For the sake of her health, for her own sake, for the hope of being able to travel and go see brother's newly renovated house, for going to stay with me and my little kitty for a while...

No, I do not feel regretful or too sad that I will be gone tomorrow. Perhaps because I know I will be back very soon. But more because I know that I have done the best that I can while I am here. Mum knows it, and she said those deities in heaven know and see it too.

Most importantly, I know it.

At least [I] still have you

I am afraid there is not enough time,

I want to hold you.

Until [I] feel your wrinkles

[Which] hold the traces of the years,

Until [I] can be certain you are real,

Until [I] lose strength,

For you, I am willing.

[I] cannot move

But still want to watch you,

Until [I] feel your hairline,

Holds the traces of white snow.

Until [my] vision becomes blurred,

Until [I] cannot breathe.

Let [our] shadows and reflections never part.

If
I can also let go of the whole world,

At least [I] still have you

Worth me to treasure and cherish,

And you being here

Is precisely life’s miracle.

Maybe

I can also forget the whole world,

Only [I] do not wish

To lose news of you.

The mole in centre of your palm,

I always remember where it is.

I am afraid there is not enough time,

I want to hold you.

Until [I] feel your hairline,

Holds the traces of white snow.

Until [my] vision becomes blurred,

Until [I] cannot breathe.

Let [our] shadows and reflections never part.

With great difficulty,

We have no command over our bodies,

I am afraid time is [passing] too quickly,

Not enough to look at you closely.

I am afraid time is passing too slowly,

[I] worry day and night about losing you.

I want nothing less than to [become] old in one night,

Never to part.

Over there.