The medicine to soothe mum's throat inflammation finished yesterday, so I travelled across town to meet up with her friend, the one who used to be a nurse and has a supply of the medicine at home.
I met her at a Matsu temple in Songshan district, a place where I first lived until the age of five or so. The temple is dedicated to the Goddess of the Sea, who also happens to be my godmother, and I do have some vague memories of playing on the steps of the temple as a little boy.
Fast forward twenty something years, to today, and there I sat on the bench talking to mum's friend.
"You know it's near the end..." Under normal circumstances, it would have been too direct, perhaps even rude to say that to a child, but I know it myself. I have known it when I first saw the doctor's report that all they can do now is provide palliative care, and make sure mum does bot have too much pain. The tumour on the spine, even if it's under control now, even if it's become smaller as a result of the chemo and radiotherapy, it's only a matter of time... Till it spreads... to the lymph glands... to the brain... Who knows where to? The future is unimaginable, the pain and suffering nobody can fathom... I know, I know... Even if I sometimes pretend not to know.
"It's good that you came back to be with her through this latest treatment," she said, "I was very afraid that she would not go through with the treatment." I nodded, and said I've only done my best.
"You're doing a lot, it's a lot to take for anyone..." Yes it is, it really is, and sometimes I do wish I could just turn away and not care so much. Wouldn't that be so much easier- to not care, to not worry, to not feel pain when you see someone in pain?
I swallowed and thanked her again and again for being there for mum while my brother and I are away. All those phone calls, home calls, all those words of encouragement and support mum's fried has given in the last few years. The box of chocolates in my hand which I wanted to give her, even a thousand boxes of the same chocolates, could never repay what I feel I owe her... My eyes filled with tears, but they were contained around the rim of my eyes.
"I'm just doing what a friend do, it's nothing more than lifting my hands," she said, meaning it's something that doesn't take too much extra effort. Once again, I realise what simple joy and comfort friends can bring, and how they can help to ease the heavy heavy burden on your shoulders.
We parted ways, and she promised she will continue to call mum, to check up on her regularly when I'm not around. "Take her out, talk about happy things, make her enjoy life...!" she reminded me.
I'll try...
I'll try...
Just as I've always tried, I'll keep in trying...
Before my godmother I knelt on my knees with a bunch of incense sticks in my hands. I closed my eyes softly, and felt the scent of herbal incense waft into my nostrils. Around me were prayers and murmurs of other devout worshippers. She sat on a high stool at the back end of the temple, surrounded by gilded cloaks, ornamental decorations and dragons, and other lesser deities.
"Godmother," I whispered in my heart, "please take care of mum, please let her be healthy, please let her be happy, please don't let her have too much pain or suffering..." My head was bent low, and I wad there silent for a while. But what I felt deep deep down surfaces in the form of tears that swam and shimmered in my eyes.There are millions and millions of prayers and wishes my godmother Matsu must listen to everyday and night, and mine is no more or less important. Everyone wants to be happy, everyone wants to live without pain and worry. Perhaps prayer to a higher being is self-consolation and seeking solutions for problems that are beyond us, beyond our comprehension and understanding....
But I will keep on trying, and I will keep on hoping.
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