Little toys for little people

My friends found it bizarre that I had entered the soft toys section of the store and left with my arm full of lovely, cuddly and colourful creatures of all shapes and sizes.

There was a cute crocodile, measuring almost a metre long, with a cute little lizard in between its jaws (maybe the image doesn't sound very cute, but the toy itself really is...). There was another crocodile, a female one, with what looked like wings on its back and a light blue dress. I grabbed a dog with outstretched arms that was soft to the touch, and so very huggable. And there was a little dog with soft, soft brown fur and little paws...

"Who are they for?" my friends kept on asking. With a small, mischievous smile, I only said that the toys will make some child very happy. Or at least that was the hope.



I quickly proceeded to the check out before my friends could follow, and almost immediately after buying, I put the toys, one by one, into a big transparant box, which I caught my eyes earlier as I walked into the store. As each animal entered the hole at the top of the donation box, I silently wished that the toy would bring a child, wherever s/he may be, much happiness and comfort. In the run-up to Christmas, $1 of every toy purchased is automatically donated by the store to help educate children around the world. And the box, swimming with beautiful and wonderfully colourful animals with infectious smiles and open arms, is a collection for local and international organisations that work with children.

I walked through the store, but didn't really feel the need to buy anything. I have everything I could possibly need, and want. And so much more! But as soon as I glanced at a poster advertising the great cause, I was reminded again that there are so many in the world who have so little... and reminded again what little it takes to give a child the simple, simple pleasure of having a toy to play with, to grow up with.


I grew up with soft animals, and still remember countless nights lying next to one which, despite not being able to speak when spoken to or to hug back when hugged, offered me much consolation and warmth. Even today, I have a modest collection of soft animals, one or two of which occupies space on my bed while I sleep to keep me company. Though the soft toy cannot replace lost parents or take away the pain and trauma of separation from loved ones, the permanent smiles, the softness of the fabric can take anyone to a place of dreams, a place where the world is safe and comfortable. If only temporarily...


I may never see the lit up suprised faces of the children who will receive the toys. I may never know where the toys will find a home, or whether the little creatures will ever be named. But I hope that a little gift will show a child somewhere in the big, big world that there are strangers who think of them, and strangers who care.

Doctor's note

It took a lot of wrangling and caused a stir in my department to get this piece of paper. I need a doctor's note detailing my mum's health condition in order to officially be granted a leave of absence.

Finally today I received it. Before taking it to the proper bureaucracy where this piece of paper containing very personal information will be scrutinised and assessed for whether my circumstances are deserving of a leave, I glanced through it quickly...

"Metastases..."

"suspicious lung..."

"disease progress recently..."

"life support and assistance required..."

Those words struck me, struck so hard and so painfully that I started to tear right here in the office. Thank goodness I was alone, and I quickly breathed deeply and wiped away my tears, wiped away my intense emotions.

I had known about mum's health from what (little?) she tells me. But somehow, seeing it on paper, seeing it through the  official diagnosis by a medical expert, the impact is more profound, more heartfelt.

Perhaps I have been denying my feelings, denying, unconsciousness, how bad her situation is, so I can keep on telling her to be strong, keep her telling little white lies that it'll all be alright...

Perhaps I've been telling myself little white lies too, so I need not grasp or realise the full extent of the situation, even though I know deep down that things are beyond my control, are beyond the aid of silent prayers, and silent thoughts of goodwill and kindness I send to my mum...

Be strong, I tell myself... be strong for mum's sake, for brother's sake, for the sake of everyone around us. But can I tell myself to be strong for my sake?

Voulez-vous une banane?

I got off the bus, after what seemed like a long and grueling journey. The seat was so cramped, and the bus was completely loaded. I had dozed off and slept half of the way, only to wake up close to the border of Ontario and Quebec when the bus unexpected swayed strongly in one direction. The rest of the trip downtown seemed to take forever, and my mind was filled with things I have to do, and of people and faces that seem to appear and disappear with memories of happy moments, but also worries of dark, brooding uncertain times ahead.

The bus terminal is right above the metro station, and there is a flight of stairs leading down to the underground level. Every time I pass through those stairs, there is a homeless person (or two) who stands behind the door and opens it whenever someone is passing through. And today  was no exception.

As I approached, a man in his thirties held the door open for me with one hand, and with the other he had a tattered paper coffee cup for spare change. Whenever I walk pass a homeless person, I am temporarily filled with compassion, but at the same time guilt. I never like to give out spare change, as I fear they may spend it on abusive substances.

I had already passed through the door, but something in me made me turn around. I was reminded that I had a banana in my bag, and without thinking too much, I just took it and asked: "Voulez-vous une banane?" ("Would you like a banana?")

A few times when I offered food to a homeless person, I've been shouted out. But this time, the man instantly flashed a beautiful smile. His face lit up, and his expression was one of gratitude and appreciation. "Merci, merci!" he said, and stretched out a soiled hand to grab the banana from me.
"Merci, merci" he repeated again.

I did not say anything back, except smile back and look at him deeply. For a split moment our eyes met, and I felt warm inside, warm from the joy of such a simple act of kindness, such a simply act of giving. Though I did not say anything, deep down, I said "thank you".

Thank you  for making my day...

Rush to Ottawa

Outside the window is a vast, frozen land, cold to the eyes, yet beautiful and ironically warming in the way it reminds me of a picture-perfect scene of winter. The sky was darkening, yet the white layer that blanketed everything seemed to radiate with a low glow.

I don’t know what prompted me to grab a light backpack, stuff it with a few pieces of clothing, and just board the bus. I cannot explain why, but it somehow just feels like the ‘right’ thing to do, even though I do not know or understand the reason behind it all.

Earlier in the morning, my friend had left to Ottawa for an appointment. Once or twice, he asked if I wanted to come along. I was tempted, but I never gave a firm reply. But almost as soon as he stepped out my door, I went on line and booked tickets for the 3pm bus. I guess I like to put on elaborate little surprises to make special people in my life happy!

And now I’m on that bus, racing on a snow-lined highway towards the city. My mind in a way is racing toward that moment of showing up at his hotel room. He still has no clue, and in my mind I’m thinking about all the ingenious ways of how to surprise him.

It’s crazy, and I cannot explain it. I don’t think I want to see him because I am in need of his consolation and support in light of recent news of mum’s ailing health. I think I want to see him, because he seemed to want to see me… or at least that was the impression I got. And I want to see him also because… I just want to see him, and be with him for however brief a time we can spend together.

Conversation with mum

"Human beings are like this, so fragile. People are like this... With age there is so much misfortune. Just have to accept..."

I know she can become down sometimes. Not so much a symptom of the illness or the treatment, but,  perhaps, a manifestation of facing fear, facing possible death.

"I pull lightly, and already 5, 6 strands of hair come off. And this is only after the first treatment," she said sadly, "Maybe I shouldn't go to the wedding..."

How silly she was being, how self-demeaning! How painful it is to hear that!

 "How can you not be there? You're the mother!" I said gently and firmly, but was in fact frowning and struggling hard to contain the tears. I can only imagine what injured pride and self-esteem made her talk this way, what shame she felt if she were to be in a room full of people, to be the centre of attention, and wonder if people could see her thinning hair or her wig. Earlier she had discussed the symptoms, the broken throat, the hair loss, and complaints that she has been coughing a lot... Coughing... lungs...?

"Sometimes, the illness makes you think in extremes," she admitted.

"Don't think too much," I said, perhaps the only thing I could think of saying, yet I knew deep down that it was not enough. Not enough to show how much I really care, how very much I would like to be right there with her, to hold her and tell her by looking into her eyes not to worry, not to fear-- even if deep down, I do worry, I do fear...

She told me how cold it had suddenly gotten, and I told her to dress warmly, and to wrap herself with that blanket I had recently bought her and shipped to her.

"I do use it. Really, thank you for that," she said.

For some reason, perhaps because of the overly sensitised frame of mind I am in now, that "thank you" lured a tear from the corner of my eye. It was such a special thank you, perhaps in the way she said it, perhaps in the way I heard it. It was a thank you that seemed to strike my core, reverberate and touch my very soul. The soul which so cares, so deeply loves and so deeply wishes all the best for my mum. The blanket, however warm, however much it had cost, can only convey a little part of that care and affection. The "thank you" touched me, because she understood, because she felt my love...

And that was such a blessing, for some reason, a blessing that warmed my heart to know that even though far away, I am trying to make a little difference, and bring a little bit of light into her life....

Immeasurable gratitude

I was tearing so heavily, heaving and sobbing like never before, and how at that moment I so wanted someone to be next to me...

How weak I felt, how weak because I could not control the emotions take over me for such a long time. When I stopped sobbing and just as I was about to go clean up my face, I heard the frozen  creaking of the stairwell leading to my front door. Peeping through the glass, I could just about make out the face of my friend.

I don't know why when I saw him, I became so emotional all over again. Tears that had stopped and began flowing again almost as soon as he came through the door. It was a mixture of gratitude, of being so glad that he rushed through the night to come see me as soon as he read my blog, of knowing that he cares so deeply for me, and at the same time, of feeling guilty that I was again dragging him into the emotional mess of my life, even though he has enough of his own.

I hugged him, felt the sweat on his t-shirt, for he had not even taken the time to change and had immediately rushed out the door to get here as quickly as he could. The journey on the metro took forever, he recalled, as he wanted to be with me, to comfort me, only after reading the first few words of the previous post.

We talked for a little while, about my fears, about how the news reminds me a little too much of dad in those final days of his life. Maybe I am thinking too far ahead, imagining things and letting my frail, tattered state of mind get ahold of my thoughts... Imagining things in ways that are worse than they are, than they really are. But sometimes one needs to prepare for the worst, to mentally and physically brace oneself for that day, that moment of goodbye...

I meditated for a while, in a way to calm my mind, and afterwards I felt 'fine', even though in the circumstances could any one be really 'fine'? My friend hugged me, held me, lay close next to me, put his arm around me. Though my sleep was short and interrupted, every time I opened my eyes, I could see his face, feel the softness of his skin, and feel our gentle, warm breaths mingle and intertwine in the cold morning air.

Though mentally drained, I felt such gratitude, such immeasurable gratitude that mere words, mere 'thank yous' cannot possibly express or fully convey what I felt and wanted to say.

Disturbing news....

I read it and immediately started crying again... Crying so intensely for the second time today
 I feel myself breaking, shaking deep down inside... never, never have i ever felt so hurt, so pained, so shaken.

I had heard from mum that she has not been well, but never did I realise it was so bad.

Brother wrote to me, something he rarely does. So it must be serious.
 The cancer had spread to mum's lungs.

Exactly this is what took my dear father away...

I don't know how to deal with this... I really don't.

I can only cry.. cry, cry. But even tears cannot take away those cancer cells...
even my love for her, my deep prayers of her recovery cannot kill those cells...

I wish to speak to her, to comfort her, but I'm in no state to talk to her. She cannot hear my tears, she cannot hear my hurt, my sobs, for it would be even more difficult for her.

And I only want to lighten her load, not pile more on.

I feel sooo powerless and so exhausted.

How it all began...

How did it all begin...?

If I think back, perhaps it was that night at a restaurant with him and two other friends, early December 2008. The fact that there were friends there did not at the time make me realise it was a date. But today he told me he thought it was our first real date. If I think back hard enough, I can somehow picture myself getting very excited, perhaps getting nervous. I did do my hair, something I rarely do, spray on some perfume, and put on the nicest looking red shirt that fits my figure well. All the actions and signs of someone excited and expectant of something to occur, but just unsure what...

That night, we spend the first of many nights talking. Just talking, just sitting face to face, sharing our life stories so far, sharing our experiences, expectations, dreams and aspirations. I got to know him, know new friend, and grew fond of him, and he got to know me-- know me in a way that I later found out was the beginning of his infatuation toward me.

We talked into the wee hours of the morning, yet I was not tired. I remember going to bed smiling, and telling my friend what a wonderful night I had just had. I don't think I ever spent such a long night with anyone like that, just talking, just sharing. Even the most intimate and closely guarded secrets of my life and my family came pouring out bit by bit, something I never did before, something I still keep closely guarded deep inside. But somehow it felt right, somehow it felt like I could trust this person, somehow I felt I could connect with this person on many ways, even though at the time he was someone I only met and got to know a month or so before. I felt there was maybe something developing, and the feeling was mutual perhaps, but I was unsure.

I had just been in Canada for barely three months. I had seen him once or twice, and noticed him. Something inside attracted me to him, and I found myself stealing glances at him, in the classroom, at social gatherings. Something about him, his smile and jolliness made me feel warm inside. But I dismissed those feeling as just feelings I would get seeing some good-looking person on the street. Nothing would ever come out of it, I thought to myself, because nothing ever did.

Fast forward, and it's been two years since that special night together. There have been many, many more special nights together, nights not just spent talking and sharing, but night involving very intimate and sexual encounters that after so many times never seem to tire. Somehow, after all this time, though unspoken, though never formalised, we have developed something, something I'm not sure what exactly... It was all the more complicated by the fact he was still in a relationship at the time I met him.

Two years later, today, I felt again how closely connected I feel towards him, and I realise again how attached I have grown toward him. We have spent so many nights together in the last two, three weeks, as if we cannot let go of one another. Work for both of us has been stalled, and we seem to spend a lot of waking moments reflecting, dwelling in our memories, and being with one another.

Today, after spending the night (again) at his place, began with him breaking down, howling and crying so intensely because he was so torn and tormented by his feelings toward me and toward someone he had recently met and quickly developed strong feelings for. I left his apartment, but quickly I went back to when I realised how much he was suffering pain and guilt in order to comfort him, to hand him tissues to wipe the incessant flow of tears down his face. I went back because I wanted and tried to be there him, and to show that I care about him and his well-being and happiness.

Somehow the conversation turned to my childhood. It was then that I poured out accounts of excruciatingly vivid and painful experiences images of being abused as a child-- poured it out in descriptions and details I have never ever shared with anyone other person in this big wide world...  It was my turn to break down, sobbing and grinding my teeth while reliving the painful, painful memories in my head, while my mind turned so, so dark and was plastered once again with the shame, guilt, anger, powerlessness, abrupt loss of innocence, and the ways it has affected, and continues to affect, my life. I stood up and wanted to walk away, wanted to just turn around and leave, turn around, rush home and cry in a corner, because it was all too much, all too raw, and all too unexpected...  But somehow, his own tears, shed perhaps because he saw me hurt and crying, and his outstretched arms beckoned me to go back to him.

Perhaps it is true what they say: nothing brings people together better and closer than tears and hurt... perhaps not even compared to the carefree laughters and joys that seem to last so few precious moments, for the "life of man [is so] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short". And what comfort and warmth it is to have someone to be there to listen, to hold, and just to be there so that you do not feel all alone in times of trouble and hurt?

Again, like so often in the past, like so many nights or days we have spent lounging around in bed and next to one another's warm bodies, the bond, the very intimate and personal connection we shared that very night two years ago is still there, is if not stronger, then at least has been thoroughly tested over the last few months by turbulent events.

There has been so much drama, tears and hurt... yet all of this counterbalanced and overwhelmed by laughter, inside jokes, and climaxes from intensely passionate love-making that have taken us both by surprise, and taken us both to whole new levels of getting to know one another in a very short period of time. I'm not sure where we are now, or where we are heading. And I don't want to give him pressure, and I don't want to push him away. But I think we both realise how much we mean to one another, and what a difference being in one another's lives has made to our lives, whether together or apart.

 Like we said and agreed on, life would be all so easy and simpler had we met under different circumstances, had we just chance encountered one another on the streets and got to know one another without the baggage of having to hide and bury our feelings for one another...

But this is the situation, however frustrating yet at the same time lovely and intense, that we find ourselves in now. And perhaps one day, we can look back when the turbulence has settled, and realise what did not break us, made us stronger. Whether together, or apart...

Laughter

It's been a long time since I heard mum laugh, and how endearing and moving it was!

Mum says she feels better, after listening to a 'teacher' what kind of herbal medicine she should take to boost her immune system and to stop her throat from getting worse from the chemo medicine. And like  almost every time I speak to her, the conversation turned to brother's wedding.

According to tradition, the bride and groom must spend a night in the groom's family home. Since we moved last year, the family home has become a small one-bedroom apartment, with a large living room that can be divided into a small guest room. The bedroom is obviously my mum's, so that leaves the little guest room/living room as the only place where my brother and his fiance must spend the first night of their married life together.

The ridiculousness of the situation made mum laugh, which in turn made me laugh. There's not even a bed, so they have to sleep on the wooden floor (which is what I do when I'm home...). It's all very make-shift and simple, but they have to make do. And we have to somehow decorate that living room/guest room space into the "wedding room", which according to tradition is where the husband and wife spend the first night "together".

As mum joked: "I'm sure it's not their first night 'together'. "

I guess I'll just have to tiptoe and be very careful not to disturb the married couple when that night comes...

These days

These days, I feel the days and nights are filled with emotions and feelings that are so draining that I have so little energy and time left to work. My thesis progress has been put on hold, and my (paid) work at my institute is slow and not very productive...

Feelings and emotions bombard me, day in, day out. What is life without feelings and emotions, you may ask? What reality is devoid of such essential elements of what it means and takes to be human? Even so, the feelings and emotions have been especially pronounced, and at times conflicting.

On the one hand, I am preoccupied with the gradual but at times stumbling developments in the relationship between my friend and me. Though we share so many beautiful, intimate moments together, though we have made so many memories together in the last two years, there is naturally a lot of excess baggage, uncertainties, and, perhaps largely from my part, reservations about where it can all lead to, if anywhere. I just wrote to him, explaining how I feel about him deep down, but also expressing my fears of not being able to satisfy his expectations and not being able to give him the kind of care, affection and attention he offers me. I'm not sure how he will respond, if anything because I did tell him that he did not need to respond.

It's just when I am with him, I feel so safe and secure, so strong and fulfilled. And when I am alone, I long for that, long to be with him, to lie next to him and gaze upon his eyes and lips. Is this a natural feeling of being in love, or is this an unhealthy dynamic of becoming too dependent on someone for emotional support and for attention? I don't know, however much I wish to know... because I don't think it's fair to the other person if I were to rush into anything just because I feel I've found someone to release my frustrations and emotions at...

Frustrations and emotions caused largely by the condition of my mum. She seems to be in a somewhat unstable condition, as I learned this morning. Though the original schedule for doing chemo is every two weeks, she has had to postpone because the doctor felt she did not have enough white blood cells for her body to cope (the white blood cells keep the body strong and together, especially as chemo kills everything, both healthy and cancerous cells...). And she complained to me about the 'cuts' in her throat and mouth and tongue, a common side-effect caused by the potent chemo medicine, which makes her feel a lot of discomfort and have difficulty to consume anything. And if she doesn't consume enough nutrients, she won't be able to undergo the next chemo treatment...

So those are the two main concerns on my mind these days, concerns that keep my mind constantly at work and overworked, makes me feel restless and drained. At the dentist today, the dentist said that I grind my teeth a lot, and asked me whether it was related to school work. "Life," I said, "Just many things in life I am going through at the moment..."

Yes, such is life. And there seems to be little I or anyone can do about it...

Nap

My sleep was disturbed last night because of the incessant vibrations and growling of plough trucks that worked till almost 2am on my street. And I woke up early as soon as the alarm went off in order to make it to an appointment in the morning.

So by midday I was tired, and retreated home for a quick nap. It felt warm under the blanket, and though I did not actually fall asleep immediately, but wandered on the perimeter of sleep and consciousness, for a few moments just before waking I had a dream... one that shook me awake and made me cringe.

In the dream was a conversation with mum. We were just sitting together and talking...

"You have to start thinking about your marital affairs," she said, "It's good to settle down in a normal relationship".

"What do you mean normal? I am normal, and I am happy with what I have."

"You know, normal, just the way it should be. It'll give you much happiness and joy."

"I AM normal," I said, getting frustrated and emotional, for I understood what she was alluding to, but just avoiding saying, "I am very happy. I care deeply for the person, and have someone who cares deeply about me. That's all I want and all I need."

"The relationship between your dad and I is normal. You get married and raise a family together, grow old together, and spend the rest of your life together...

I did not wait till she finished, because I could not bear the deceit. "But you two were so unhappy. You were constantly bickering, you shared so little in common, and had such different outlooks on life. Is that really happiness? Is that for the rest of your lives together?" I was almost shouting, and my tone was angry, but in truth I was hurt and in tears. Hurt, partly because mum did not fully accept me for who I am... hurt also because of all the time I grew up hoping and praying that my parents would be 'normal' and not fight so much. And look how things turned out...

It was then I woke up, ducked under the duvet, and curled up in a vulnerable foetal position, shivering. I felt my face contort in agony, my heart sink and ache.

Perhaps it's all because of this wedding business coming up that's making me apprehensive, for after brother gets settled, attention will focus on me next. Was it just a dream, or a manifestation of my fears of being and feeling rejected by mum?

Disappointing others

If there one thing I'm uncomfortable, that's disappointing others. Maybe it's because I aim to please, aim to make everyone happy, but at the same time I'm afraid that things will not work out as planned. Then again, what in life ever does work out as planned, especially if everything is always changing, always so uncertain?

When my friend proposed recently to go all the way to Taiwan to go see me, at first I was of course excited. I've been imagining and thinking about all the things I could do and see with him, especially as a trip last year with him had been so wonderfully memorable.

But then reality hits, and away from the daydreaming and imaginations, I have to also think about the fact that around the time of the planned visit, my mum will be undergoing chemo and there is a wedding to be organised (a wedding for which I have been somehow drafted as a wedding planner...). Both are sure to take up a lot of my time and attention...

And if my friend were to visit, I'm not sure if  I can guarantee that I can give him all the attention and time he deserves, especially given he will have flown so far and long to be there with me. Perhaps I'll be so stressed by all the things that are going on and become touchy and temperamental, which ruins everything for everyone. All the while, in the back of my mind I'll probably be thinking of whether mum needs me, or whether I'm needed somewhere...

I just don't know what I want... and all I would like is to make everyone happy, but why do I feel frustrated in the process?

Celebrating...

From those humble beginnings in 2006, this blog has been in my life for almost four years.

And I just realised that I've just passed the 1000th post. Though numbers don't really say much, but it seems like an important milestone in my attempts to blog and capture moments and snapshots of (my) life to share with the world.

Here's hoping for many more years of writing and sharing : )