Trip southward

Traditionally, on the second day of the new (lunar) year, the wife and husband goes to visit the wife's family, and pay respect to the elders. As my brother and wife are planning to head south, I'm going to tag along too, partly to get to know my new (extended) family a bit better, but also partly to get away for my own sake, and for my mum's sake.

After a quick lunch, I'm heading into the mountains for a few days at the monastery. It'll be nice to collect myself, to calm down and get away from all the things at home. As much as I want to be with her, to take care of her, and make sure she's well and happy, being with mum can be draining, physically and mentally. Not just for me, but I think also for her too. With some distance, I hope I can see things more clearly, and that it'll be easier for me to 'let go' of things when that day comes...

And that day will eventually come soon, it seems, as and tonight, I just spent a few hours with my friend planning my trip home to Canada, and buying a ticket! At first I wanted to surprise him, and just show up at his doorstep... but as he is really skilled in looking for cheap flights, he helped me greatly to find good connections, with even a stopover in Vancouver so I can see my cousins. We even made plans to spend a few days together on the west coast, which will be kind of romantic, especially after being apart for so long. I really hope all the plans will go through, as he put a lot of effort and thought into all this, and as he is flying all the way just to pick me up... And what a wonderful return to Canada that would be, to be greeted by someone I've been thinking of and missing.

New Year's Eve

Barely past eleven, and mum is already sleeping, snoring. The whole day it has been as if she was under a spell of sleepiness and drowsiness, and would nod off whenever she sits down for a bit. On the way to dad's temple, she fell asleep, on the way back, she fell asleep. After lunch, she fell sleep. And sitting in front of the TV, as we were all gathered together to enjoy the New Year's Eve evening in, she could not keep her eyes open for long.

She began taking the painkillers which contain morphine. It really does take away the sensation of soreness in her arms, but one of the sideeffects is inducing drowsiness and sleep. Even now, as firecrackers are exploding outside, she seems to not even stir from her slumber. I makes me really concerned if she continues taking these painkillers, that she'll descend into a state of dependency, and a state of semi-permanent drowsiness which is not good for her mental or physical health.

As for me, I've been feeling a gnawing sense of discontent within ever since I woke up this morning. Perhaps it is because I slept late trying to finish writing to dad, so as a result I didn't sleep for long. And having to sleep on the floor every night on  a makeshift bed made up of seat-cushions isn't doing much good for my back. I also have a slight headache, I suspect from the cold and runny nose I started having a few days ago. Plus, today is the anniversary of dad's passing, yet besides going to see dad's remains at the temple, it seems just like any other day...

My friend and I have been talking about my return to Canada, but as much as I'd like to go home, I'm afraid to actually take the bold step of booking a flight. There really is no problem, except the problem comes from me. It's me just not being able to decide on a date, me worrying too much about the what ifs, what then, and thinking about what may happen. It's me not being able to just let go of things, and leave here with ease of mind, despite mum telling me repeatedly to go and telling me that she'll be fine. In fact, just before she fell asleep, she said to me, "You've done so much for all of us..." Those words made me emotional all over.

I think I'll feel better and less moody when I sleep and forget about things. Hopefully I'll wake up feeling like a new person and feeling refreshed. 

A-Ba

Inadvertently I came across this song. As the music played, as the voices sang, I began to cry...
Indeed, how I would like to call out dad's name again... how I see dad in the beautiful things and sceneries of this world... how I miss our conversations, just the two of us, sitting in the living room at night, slowly sipping tea...

Earlier, at dad's commemoration, I threw a package with dad's name on into a big cauldron of fire. The envelop, the letter, the photographs charred and crumbled into dark cindering waste as they were consumed by the violent flames.

I do hope dad will be able to receive my words, my longing, my prayers.

A-Ba*

Jay Chou and Jung Hung

*Taiwanese for dad

(translation mine)

My dearest A-Ba,

I would like to call out your name again,

Sing the songs you wrote before,

Letting go of feelings, singing endlessly…

The A-ba I think of and miss the most,

It’s time for me to sing songs for you to listen

The sounds of the song is like a swallow,

Taking you back to me here.

[CHORUS

What kind of paper should be used?

Slowly, slowly write,

So that you will know the things I have to say.

Do not, do not hurt,

Do not want, do not want to go,

Say you have left here…

We are growing up,

Protecting [our] home,

Protecting the silent and somber conversation under the warmth of candlelight,

Turn back to see,

A-Ba is like the mountain…]

My dearest dad,

You gave us a home,

[Let us] make a cup of tea named longing,

Lightly taste the heavy scent of care and concern.

[CHORUS]

Letter to dad

"I shed tears, it is [because I] remember dad fondly, it is [because I] hope dad is [living] peacefully, happily, it is [because I] hope when dad sees me and the people in our family [dad] still holds on to that deep affection of [our] family and beautiful memories..."


Three years it has already been. Three years ago, according to the lunar calendar, dad passed away quietly in my hands at the hospital within walking distance from where we live. If I close my eyes, if I sink into the darkness and depths of my consciousness and memories, I can still feel it, I can still see it, I can still smell the sterile scent of the hospital intensive care unit, I can still hear the incessant beeping of the life support system that gradually beeped slower and slower until it faded into nothing.

Dad has come back in my dreams, sometimes nightmares that disturb me so, and leave me heaving for breath and shedding heavy tears out of longing and out of pain. Dad has come back in my thoughts, whenever I see or experience something beautiful I would like to share with him. And dad comes back in my words and in my writings, for he too was a writer when he was alive, and I like to see myself as continuing this legacy of of his. Dad may have left, but he is never too far away... There is some consolation and comfort in thinking this way.

And I maintain his memory by occasionally looking up at his smiling portrait, and by carrying on the tradition of writing to him on his anniversary. Writing a letter to dad, which I will offer to him (by way of  burning) together  with some photographs, paper money, and cigarettes. It is how I 'keep in touch' with him, even after he has gone, and how I recollect a lot of the events that have taken place in my life, in the life of my family.

It often brings me to tears to write to dad, and this time was no exception. All the doubts about my own future and uncertainties about mum's health condition occupy a large part of the letter. But there are good news too (or at least better news...), about my brother's wedding, my plans to stay in Canada permanently, and the 'burgeoning' relationship between my friend and I, which has brought me much happiness and comfort, despite all odds. In closing, I asked for little, and asked for what I always ask for when I pray at a temple: that dad watch over and protect my family, especially mum... protect them from harm, from worry and suffering, provide them with peace, happiness and ease of mind.

I only hope that dad will 'receive' my letter, and that he will be reassured that even after he has gone, he is often thought of, and still loved.

Life

So full of surprises, so full of unexpected twists and turns. Like a maze sometimes, one that traps and confuses you, while at other times, like a smooth, endless road through a desert, predictable and tedious.

Life, made up of ups and downs, of different characters and different people who appear and disappear, who shine and fine, but make it all the more interesting.

You never really know what is around the next corner.
You never really know what will happen next...

Results

The results are out...

...a big tumour is pressing on the nerves, growing in the spine. Another tumour is suspected in the lower spine. Mum feels well, she looks well, but inside, her cells are slowly being consumed by the cancer.

The doctor was friendly, and attentive. Surgery may not be the best option, he admitted. Sometimes, it is no longer about how long someone has left to live, but how well the person can live. Why undergo a risky surgery, with only a 70% success rate and have to suffer through months of rehabilitation and recovery? Why go through a surgery, when perhaps not long after, the cancer will spread anyways?

Mum was not gsad. If she was, she was doing well at hiding it. Brother on the other hand was obviously affected, his eyes moist, his face besieged and beleaguered by the heaven burden of hearing first hand and realising that mum may not be around for long. But then again, who knows who will be around for how long?

We walked together, along the little creek that flows down from the mountain, that carries lukewarm springs with it down toward the river. Brother walked hand in hand with his wife, occasionally kissing his wife on the cheeks and sharing glances. I am sure he is reassured and comforted somewhat by her presence, and by the knowledge that he has someone to love and to care for him, whatever happens. Mum walked next to me, occasionally holding onto my arm. One day she will let go of my arm, let go of my arm forever.

"When you go home..." mum would start saying, expressing her love and her care only a mother would. "Remember you should..." Minute details, details only a mother would know, details that only a mother would care about. There is nothing more precious, nothing more affectionate, more unconditional than a mother's love for her child, her children.

I was surprisingly calm, collected and together. All the fears, all the worries seem to have subsided, at least for now. Perhaps I am numbed by the heavy reality of mum's condition. Perhaps I have resigned to fate. Perhaps it calms me to see mum at ease, and at peace with her own health, her own body, her own fate. On her face was a small smile. Not a happy smile, but a smile of satisfaction, of recognition. "I have nothing to worry about anymore, and I have had many a good times..."

The reality is the way it is, and nothing can change it. Not worry, not even prayers, not even the tears of a child who tries very hard to make sure nothing bad happens to his own mother. What else can you do but once more recognise and accept that there is but a thin line that separates life and death? It is up to you to decide which side of the line wish to be on.

Day before the results

It was a happy day today, one day after the wedding. The bride and groom stayed at our family home for the 'first' time, and shared their 'wedding bed' (as mum commented sometime ago, for sure not for the first time...)

We went out for lunch at a shabu-shabu place nearby, and ate for almost three hours. We chatted, joked and exchanged stories from our travels, our lives, and genuinely had a joyous day together. A day filled with laughs, and just being in one another's presence, sharing the moments together.

Tomorrow, mum will finally receive the results of her recent MRI scan. It's taken almost three weeks to arrange for the scan, and to have the results, and there was a delay because mum decided to change doctors at the last moment last week. We'll find out what is wrong (or more positively, what is right...) with her, and should get an opinion of how to proceed with treatment.

I'm not sure how we will all feel, especially how mum will feel after the appointment. I've been dreading this day somewhat, and fearing the outcome. It has made me so scared at times, so very scared and frustrated I cannot begin to describe it to anyone. And I can only imagine, no I can only vaguely imagine, what mum must be feeling...

We've had our happy times, our happy moments together. Tomorrow we may be saddened and depressed. But at least we are together in this, in sadness and in happiness, in good health and in ill health.

The Wedding

“Welcome to the family,” I whispered in her ear as I leaned over and kissed her three times on the cheeks, “Wish you two happiness and luck.”  My sister in law (no longer to-be!) was genuinely touched, and clutched tightly onto the bouquet of white and pink flowers. In the haste of all the things that needed planning and doing, we had forgotten to get the bride flowers. Luckily, at the very last minute I managed to get my hands on a beautiful bouquet—one of many amusing and memorable surprises to come.

The wedding day came and is now over. Most couples plan this day for months, if not s year well in advance, but my sister in law and brother planned it all within one month or so, and neither of them were physically in the country until two weeks before the big day. It may have been rushed, there may not have been much protocol or paying respect to the proper rites and rituals (there were some bloopers and awkward moments during which nobody knew how to proceed…), but in the end, with the help of so many of my sister-in-law’s friends and relatives, the past two days will certainly fill many people’s lives with lots of pleasant and happy memories.

The setting was at an up-scale Japanese restaurant, with dimly lit and minimally decorated rooms that evokes an ambience of elegance and simplicity. With black and white as the base colours of the décor, the beautiful arranged flower pieces resting on the big round and rectangular tables form centres around which dozens of family and friends from either side of the couple gathered. I bought boxes of heart-shaped Ferrero Rocher chocolates, and placed floating candles on each table to add more warmth and light to the atmosphere. All around the rooms (there were seven of them, which sliding doors which we pushed aside to form one big reception area), red and white heart shaped balloons drifted around on the floor and rested beautifully on counter tops. Later, some of the balloons would become playthings of young children who attended the wedding, adding another level of fun and festivity to the whole event.

Nine separate dishes there were, nine being a homonym of the word ‘longevity’. Taiwanese thrives on symbolism, metaphors, and making obscure connections with plays on words, and each number from one to ten has a proverb associated with it which can capture the essence of good fortunes and favarouble luck. Being a Japanese restaurant, there was plenty of seafood, with cut sashimi pieces so fresh I could almost taste the sea. And I swear at one point I saw the legs of the peeled shrimp twitch as I slid the pink body into my mouth.

Being a part of the groom’s core family, I was seated at the main table, together with my mum, and closest kin of my family and the family of the bride. Every few minutes, someone would lift their cups and toast the newlyweds, or toast the mothers or uncles of the couple, at the same time offering congratulations, thanks and well-wishes. A lot of the people I don’t even know the names of would come up to me and thank me for being involved so much. “It’s the least I can do to make this a happy event for them”, I would say shyly, and follow up by thanking people for coming to attend. Indeed, though there were only around eighty people or so, relatively modest compared to other Taiwanese weddings, guests had come from as far away as the southern part of the country to share the joy.

Soft, romantic music and love songs played in the background, radiating from speakers connected to a latptop I had managed to set up at the very last minute. With a dear friend of my sister-in-law (who happened to design and make my tailor-made suit), we planned a number of games to liven up the wedding. Only two days before, I had rushed around downtown to pick up lots of little gifts to give away. Under random seats we had placed red envelops for lucky ‘winners’ who get a chance to draw numbers from a deck of Hearts (symbolising love). Three red envelops were deliberately ‘planted’ under the seats of three special people: my aunt (dad’s older sister, and in a way, his representative), my mum, and my sister-in-law’s grandma (with whom she has a very close relationship). They had to go to the centre stage and make a speech, and as a reward, they get a kiss on the cheek from the bride and groom at the same time.

When it was mum’s turn, mum was a little nervous to be in the spotlight. She wished them happiness and luck together, and hoped they would take care of one another. That moment when they leaned in to kiss her, I captured on camera, and in my mind. The moment mum hugged the bride tightly as my sister-in-law called out “mum”, I too captured. The next moving moment was when mum and my brother hugged.

That scene, those few seconds, seemed to last forever. As the applauses echoed, I had to turn away to contain the unexpected tears. I could not see mum’s face, as her back was turned to me. But I could see brother, and he had his eyes closed, for perhaps he too was trying to contain his tears and his emotions. It was a deep, tight embrace, and I imagined what my brother and my mum were thinking as they held onto one another’s bodies. Thoughts of gratitude, of appreciation, of a little unwillingness to let go, of happy and sad memories… Perhaps brother whispered something in her ears, something personal intended only for her. Perhaps mum whispered something in his ears, something heart-felt, coming from the warmth and love of a mother who is about to ‘lose’ a child.

 Through my mind, there flowed a tingling feeling of completeness, of release and of relief, especially as something so beautiful to the core, something hopeful and exciting is happening, and may perhaps sweep away the dullness and dreariness of having to deal with the spectre of death and illness that has hung over the family for the past two, three years. Was dad watching from a distance, at the son and mother, at the beautiful bride, and feeling proud and reassured that our family is once more a family of four? Sadly, dad was not there, even though at the main table, we had especially arranged for a seat to be vacant, and I had asked to be seated next to that seat. 

I walked into the corridor to escape the intensity of the moment, and to let the tears naturally moisten every corner of my eyes and water my eyelashes. People saw me in the corridor and came up to speak to me, to thank and congratulate me. Weakly I mustered smiles, and expressed my gratitude for their presence. I wondered if they saw the redness and dampness of my eyes, saw that I was looking at them with blurred and watery vision.

It was then I really missed the presence of my friend, who was invited but could not attend. It was then that moment, seeing brother being ‘given away’ and somewhat officially leaving the household, which made me really wonder about my own life, about my own future, and whether my mum will still be around to give me ‘away’, and to give me the same blessings and well-wishers. Will I too have a wedding with all these fine touches, with all these little details, little notes and little notes that make it all especially personal, especially memorable, and especially heart warming…?

Today was brother and my sister-in-law’s big day. I rushed home after the wedding, and quickly decorated the bridal suite (actually the same room my friend and I stayed in only two weeks earlier…) with heart-shaped balloons, and a deck of Hearts strewn all over the floor. On their table, I placed two little sachets of gold chocolate coins, each with a little personal note, one written by mum, one by me.

In the midst of all the things happening in the past few days, I managed to find a quiet moment to write the new couple a card, and I placed it next to a booklet I had prepared and asked guests to sign and write personal messages in. I wished them happiness, good health and prosperity, like most, if not all people would.I also wished them strength in good times and less fortunate times… wished they will always remember and treasure what brought them together in such a short period of time, and that they will always remain true to one another, no matter what… wished they will find peace and belonging in one another, even at times when there are conflicts or frustrations…

Happy marriage… may they love one another, be there for one another, be together forever, and ever.