Breakdown

I sat on the edge of the pavement, in the middle of the park, covered my eyes with my arm and sobbed. When was the last time I was so hurt, so deeply, deeply hurt? Mum stood a few steps away from me. Was she sobbing too, was she crying because I was? I didn't look up for a long time, and even if I did, the tears were like blinding waterfalls.

How did we come to this? What happened to those beautiful moments in the mountains? Where is that peace and serenity of staring at the blue, blue glacier-fed-lake surrounded by looming mountains and songs of birds? What happened to the joy of seeing all those fresh fruits and beautiful flowers at the market earlier in the day?

Mum's voice, having recovered over the past few days of rest, was close to being lost again from raising her voice and shouting. She was visibly upset, sad, angry, at something.

At me?

Yes, at me, for being gay, for being something I have no power of changing. The source of another argument, second one in two days, and this one did not just die down like last night’s. It lingered on and on as we strolled through the park after dinner. Perhaps I should have shut up, let her rant on about her sadness and disappointment of me being like "this". Perhaps I should let her express her immense difficulty to accept me at this stage, and just let things be… I do not expect her to come to terms with things easily and quickly, and perhaps I should not be so defensive and sarcastic... but I cannot bear to hear her saying that she wants to leave because she feels she is interfering with my life here.

Mum has no idea how long I have waited for this moment, to be with her here in Canada. After all that I have put myself through, after all I have done to make her feel loved and cared for, all the effort and time I have spent with her hoping she will recover her health and travel with me to a beautiful place, and leave all the worries behind… Today it is all lost in a violent, stormy fit of anger and tears. 

I did not want to provoke her any further. All I knew how to deal with my confused and contorted emotions was just to sit on the pavement and cry. Cry... What have I not done? Have I not tried my very best to make her feel welcome and comfortable here? Have I not given her my bed, bought her so much delicious foods and made meals in the hope that she will regain her lost weight? I am not listing all the things I have done to prove that I am the perfect, filial and loving son... but what did I not do or what have I done to deserve being rejected and told that I am a disappointment?

I am hurt inside, angry even. I cannot change myself. Why should I change, for I have done no wrong! All I want is to be! To be and continuing being the caring and kind person I am, the caring and kind son I am, so what has changed, I asked her. Am I not still the same person? What have I done to make her feel so miserable here? It is all in her mind, her own happiness is in her own hands. If she wants to be miserable, even being surrounding by all the comforts I am hoping to give her, then she can be miserable. Is mum wants to be so attached to pain and hurt, even when surrounded by all this natural beauty and clean environment, then she will stay that way. I cannot change how she feels...

I can only wish her happiness and peace inside, and as I told her, it is all I wish for everytime I pray, everytime I meditate, everytime I kneel before the deities and my ancestors and make a wish. I may be hurt inside, but all I can think of is mum's happiness and wellbeing. It is not even my own wellbeing I care about, because I can forgive and harbour no ill feelings. I know tomorrow, next week, or perhaps one year from now I will recover, I will forget.

But I am so afraid, so very afraid that mum's anger and upset will cause her tumour to grow and grow... I am so afraid that her anger (and I am, willingly or unwillingly, the cause of that anger, even though I have done no wrong...) will cause those bad, bad cells to multiply and spread and kill her. The thought of that, the mere fear of that is enough to make me tear all over again....

I never meant to cause anyone pain or grief, especially not mum, especially not my parents who have given me so much, too much, I have to be grateful for. And I try, I try so hard to tell and show them how much I appreciate their sacrifices and hardships. But this one thing, me being “different”, me living an “alternative” life, disappoint them so. I do not have any ill vices, have always done my best in life and in school, and yet being gay seems to counterbalance everything else right I have done or ever been…

Come bedtime, I sat next to mum on her bed. Things have calmed down a little, and she was apologetic. “Many children your age would not take their parents on a trip, let alone welcome their parents into their homes so warm heartedly. Perhaps I should be laughing in the corner that my son is doing all that for me…”

I cried, and the tear dropped on my jeans with a big splash.