Really letting go...

It's close to 4.30 in the morning in Vancouver. The last three nights I have arrived back here, still unaccustomed to the 'time travel' (jetlag) has tuned my body to automatically wake up around this time of the day (night?). It takes some twisting and turning before I can fall back to sleep again. It does not help that, despite the relative calm with which I left Taiwan, I find my mind drifting back to mum...

The feelings of longing grow more and more as the moment of receiving her test results approaches (which is in around 12 hours time...) I'm not sure what the doctor will tell her, and what the latest complete bone scan and tumour scan will reveal about the state of her condition, and frankly, how long she has left. But my main concern is that she will most likely be alone when she is receiving that news. And straight after receiving the news, she has a chemo therapy session planned, and this time with a new drug she has never used, which potentially may have unexpected or never before experienced side-effects.

So, at times in my  drifting state of consciousness, whether during the day or asleep at night, I encounter nagging thoughts of whether it was a wise decision to come back, even though I seemed to be so certain before. Being at times lost in thought, and not really enthusiastic about going out and doing things, has also caused so strain between my friend and I. I feel bad that he flew all the way to greet me, and with the intention of cheering me up, and making happy memories together, and perhaps I cannot fully appreciate what he is trying to do for me, for us. Though, really, at times it is difficult to really fully enjoy the moment when my mind drifts and wanders, and clouds over with dark thoughts about mum's wellbeing.

I remember mum saying to me one night, just before sleeping... she looked at me, and softly said:

“You’ve really done a lot for all of us.” I guess I know it deep inside, because people has said that to me, because the things I do for her move people to tears, and most important of all, she said it herself. But being too hard on myself, it takes time to really believe it.

Personally, being there for my parents is something of an ongoing personal 'mission' I strive to accomplish. And at times, unfortunately, feel I have not really done enough, especially in the case of my dad who passed away all too soon, and all too suddenly. Do I have a chance to make it all better in the case of my mum? That is a question that has been on my mind for the last couple of years, and with her ailing health, the question continues to cast a shadow over my life and life decisions.

Looking back, there is a reason why in the last two, three years I’ve flown back and forth between where I live (be that the Netherlands or Canada) and Taiwan. I want to make the most of my available time to be there for my mother, to give her a boost of confidence and human contact during those days she needs it most—especially days when she is undergoing chemo therapy, and when she is at her weakest, physically and mentally. Whether it’s making her bed every morning or warming her bed with the electric blanket at night before she retires, whether it’s sweeping the hairs off of the floor so she does not feel upset seeing her hair loss, every little bit helps, it feels like. Whether it’s making a meal for her, making sure that she gets enough nutrients and can quickly recover from her chemo treatment, or whether it’s accompanying her to the park to do exercises and to get a breath of fresh air—they’re all little things that make her feel cared for, make her feel loved. 

But there comes a point when I have to face reality, and let fate take its course. Call it a gamble, a leap of faith in the world and the way of things. There comes a point when I have to just trust myself, trust that I have done enough, and make peace with what I have done to be there for my mum, to support my mum emotionally and physically when she needs it most. I must learn to trust that I will continue to do so, whatever condition she is in, and wherever I may find myself. I must tell myself that sometimes, a phone call or a letter is enough, and the most I can do, even if it does not feel like it. 

And in the meantime, I must be ready to let go, must remind myself to let go, even when I am so far away, and not regret my decision to go and (re)start my own life abroad, away from her. Staying put and staying constantly at her side will do nobody any good, as I have been told by many outsiders, and even by mum herself. The more I stay around, the more she will feel like I’m waiting for her to ‘pass on’, so that I could finally begin my life. The longer I stay around, the more I will feel there are many opportunities or chances that I am missing, and the more I will feel resentment and regret, at myself, and at life itself. Nothing will make mum feel more at ease, more ready to leave this world in peace when that moment comes, than to see that I am making something of my life, making something out of the years of study and time and efforts that I have invested into my studies.

Nobody knows what the future will bring, or when people will come or go. What I do know is that I have been there for my mum, and I have fully given myself to make sure she feels love and cared for. 

“You’ve really done a lot for all of us…” Those words are a reminder to me that it is time to let go, time to go and do my own things. Whatever will happen will happen, even if things happen in ways or at moments when you least expect them to.

I hope gradually, and with mum’s words in mind, I will be able to find peace in leaving, find peace in my waking moments when I think of her, and find peace in my sleeping moments, when I dream of her. I hope gradually, I will find peace in leaving, and in knowing that I have really done the best I could under the circumstances. 

And, most importantly, mum knows and feels I have done the best I could, and treasures it deeply.