Beany

On the news was a report about a seven year old with leukemia. His name is Dou-dou (Beany), and has to spend new year's in the hospital for chemo treatment. His hair is shaven, but he is smiling. He says he does not want to cry because he does not want to make his parents sad. Even through the pain of chemo he only sheds a few drops of tears. He is a strong boy, his mum says.

His dad sells candy on the streets, and could not be with him on new year's eve. The dad must work hard to earn money for the expensive treatment. A bone marrow transplant and electro-therapy easily costs over one million Taiwan dollars (EUR 20,000). Every candy he sells, he is closer to achieving his goal of getting the best treatment for his son. In his pocket, he carries an amulet bearing the picture of his son. That shaven head, that beautiful smile and mischievous eyes.

I think I can understand what they must feel...

New Year's Eve

Just had dinner together. It felt warm to be together, to eat together, and to be joking and laughing together. As a family. Mum, brother, and me. There was a spare chair, spare bowl and chopsticks. For a few moments we were silent. Dad's portrait sat on the counter next to the dining table.

New year's eve. The night when family are together.

Even those who are more often than not apart.

Do the best you can

In the face of something you cannot change, you cannot come to grips with, what can you do?

"Do the best you can..." But what if the best is not enough? "Whatever will happen will happen."
Accept. Let go. Do not worry.

It is hard. But it is the best one can do.

Smile

What can you do but smile? So smile is what I did. A weak smile I managed to muster. One that you make when you want to let the other person know that I understood what was being said. A smile that is supposed to say "I'm OK, go on with whatever you have to say". A smile that hides the trauma and hurt that cannot be described, that is hidden and waiting to pour out.

I sat in front of the doctor, mum by my side. He spoke to me, looking at me intensely as he spoke of mum's condition. "You know what your mum's condition is, right?" I said yes, then added quickly at least I knew as much as she would tell me. Everything else is a mystery, and I said perhaps a lot of information has been withheld. For me own sake perhaps.

"There are two worries". I braced for the news, though it was not really new, except what came was worse than I had expected. "The cancer is spreading. To the lungs". I smiled. A weak, frail smile to show I understood, and nodded slightly to confirm that I had heard what was just said. I did not know what to say. What could one say? What could I say? What do I have to say, if anything?

"The more chemo she does, the more it will be a strain on the kidneys. She will have to undergo dialysis soon." I nodded again, afraid to look away. My mind was blank, save for the image of a machine plugged into a patient plugged with all sorts of tubes. Dialysis... isn't that painful? Didn't grandma have to undergo that ordeal? There was a silent shatter in my mind. Hopes, dreams, plans...

"She has a lot of stress, and it is not good for her. You must know she has a lot of weight on her mind." He said that and looked at me as if to tell me, to warn me that I am the one responsible for her stress... I swallowed. What have I done to cause my mum grief? What have I done or said that made her condition worse? What can I do to make things better? It is not me... it cannot be me...

I was silent and said only that I understood, and I thanked the doctor as I left the room. For a few moments I was quiet as we walked away from the clinic. Though we went to a fancy restaurant, my appetite was low, and I ate without even tasting the food. Chewing, swallowing, but my mind wandering away to a distant place of disappoint and fear, of broken memories and tears. My stomach was upset, and the digestion problems I have not had for a long time appears to be returning.

I was exhausted.
I am exhausted.
And this is only the third day back home...

Smile, smile. Because it is the simplest thing to do in the circumstances.

Back home

I looked at mum as she was excitedly talking. She's been smiling and laughing almost continuously since I got back yesterday. Underneath the layer of dyed black hair she was grey and thinning. On her shoulder was a few strands of hair which had fallen. She bemoaned earlier that since she started taking the chemo medication again, her hair has been falling out. So potent and powerful is the drug, and it has only been one session out of a total of seven more to go. Strands, tufts, and fingerfull at a time. She said she did not dare to dry her hair with a cloth after washing it. More might come off.

I have had a few deep moments with brother since I got back. What to do, what to decide in the coming period. Should I stay on, leave all the things in Canada undone, or return as scheduled and return in May again when I am in the region for a conference? I'm not closer to a conclusion as yet. But watching those temporary moments of grief and worry on mum's face between her smiles, I am once more caught and lost in confusion.

Mum's office

I looked around the room, filled with twenty, thirty people all sitting at round tables, eating , laughing, chitchatting and enjoying one another's company. It's only been around ten hours since I arrived home, I could barely keep my lids open, and I kep on rubbing my eyes to stay awake. But it mum decided to throw a 'going away' dinner for her colleagues, and I wanted to be there.

She's not really going away, at least not yet. But since it's the end of the (lunar) year, and she wants to take a break till the summer to continue her treatment, it was a good occasion to get people together and thank them. Later, they would all come to visit mum's new apartment, for a house-warming. As Taiwanese tradition goes, it's auspicious to have lots of people gather around a new house to furnish the place with more "yang" ("good") energy. I don't think I have ever seen so many pairs of shoes huddled together, and it was overwhelming to be in the apartment with be surrounded by the noise of so many people chattering all at once.

They were a simple, and warm bunch of people. Mostly women, married with children, but some men too. I looked at their faces, and silently wanted to get up to thank them all for being so considerate and understanding of mum's situation, and being supportive and being there for her when I am not around. But of course I was too embarassed and shy to do so. I think I'll write a card instead... as it were, writing says more.

Seeing them, watching their laughter, their banter, their gossip, I think I understand now why mum enjoys work so much, and why she gets up every morning in a hurry to get to work. It gives her a sense of belonging, a place where she feels at ease and where she is surrounded by friends and company.

En route to TPE

Approximately an hour to go before landing. I can already see the island on the satellite map, resembling a fish with a gaping, waiting mouth in the ocean. Outside, flashes of lightning betray the presence of a violent storm brewing in the East China Sea. The plane rocks lightly as the wing shudders.

Faint on the horizon, I can just make out the first glimmer of dawn, pale, pale orange on dark, dark purple. The thin, thin sliver of the moon, like a bright, shiny scythe, hangs lonelily in the sky.

Mum must be just stirring from her sleep now. Can I imagine her excitement, the extent and depth of a mother’s longing for the return of a far away son? Our family soon to be reunited, to usher in the new year, and together face and share whatever joys and difficulties it has to offer.

The long, long journey home is almost over.

En route to ANC

I look out the window, and see thousands of bright and dim eyes looking back at me against the dark black canvas of night. A flash of red periodically lights up the bottom portion of the massive GE-90 engine which thrusts the plane forward at close to a thousand kilometres an hour. A smooth, smooth flight so far, almost 5 hours on our way to Alaska over the frozen prairies of Canada.

Occasionally, the pale, orangey glow of a settlement or village appears scattered over the land below like diamonds in the dark. It is hard to tell the sky apart from the land. Where do they meet, where does one end and another begin?

Through my little window I can only see a small part of the great big world out there. A world that is shrinking and passing quickly by as the plane speeds toward its destination.

At EWR

Airports are exciting places. Places where people come and go, where people cry and smile, where people part and reunite.

In the sky, a row of lights lined up along the path of the runway, each bright speck a plane waiting for its clearance to land, each plane filled with hundreds of passengers energized or anxious with the final approach. As the car quietly circled the massive terminal buildings of Newark Liberty International (EWR), I was again filled with that excitement and thrill of being able to board a plane and end up somewhere far, far away a few (…or in this case, almost 20) hours later. It is a great privilege that I enjoy, and that I know many can only dream of.

The EWR has got to be the most hideous and run-down I have ever been to. Strangely so, because numerous four and five star international airlines fly to and from here. The terminal building is poorly lit, the shops and restaurants are few and repetitive, and the security check area—with tired looking staff, simple X-ray machines and metal detectors— resembled something from the pre-911 era. The Underwear Bomber would have had a field day here.

But I am not here to scrutinise the security of one of the US’ important entry points, nor am I here to shop and stuff my bags with even more souvenirs for family, relatives and friends.

I am here to board my plane and begin my long, long journey home. Again.

Snow walk

It has been a pretty uneventful few days staying with my aunt. They are extremely hospitable and kind, but a lot of the time we spent walking around big supermarkets shopping and then eating. Meat. A lot of red meat, which meant out of politeness I had to quit as a part-time vegetarian. Even if the smell of pork and beef boiling in the fondue was at times nauseating.

I wanted to talk, bond and share life as family usually do. Instead, almost constantly my cousin insisted that we play video games, while my aunt and uncle watched crappy soap series and online talk shows. The snow storm and cold over the weekend didn’t really help, and at some point I was actually counting the hours till I leave.

So this afternoon, I strode in the snow and went exploring behind their property, which spans some 2 acres into a wooded area. Seeing the serene nature and beauty made me wonder why they spend most of the time cooped up inside, instead of savouring the gift of fresh, open air and spaces that nature has to offer.

I followed the trail, which became a track that led into the woods. Droppings of deer littered the fresh coat of snow, black pellets against a smooth, fine white. It was cold, but the afternoon sun felt graceful against my cheeks. The wind blew strong at first, and almost as if it was too embarassed to disturb the quietness of nature, stopped breathing altogether. I looked around, at the frozen landscape of barren trees, shrubs, and unspoiled wilderness. A winding brook silently and gently carved its way into the distance.

I could live here, I thought to myself. I could lose myself in this great big world, away from the noises, away from the haunting memories of the past, away from uncertainties of the future, away from the troubles and worries, and surround myself with the humility and preciousness of each and every moment. One day I want to live here, out here, and be with nature.

I stood still, my eyes adjusting to the golden glow of the sun pouring over the soft, white blanket all around. With a stick I started to draw and write. Words, short, sweet sentences, hopes and wishes...

On my way back, the words and messages I had written in the snow had faded. The wind, like a naughty invisible finger, had smudged the writing, and soon all I had written will be lost.

Except, I know what I wrote. And the earth could read what I wrote. If only for a little while.

Oh, David...

... why do you need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders?