In Jasper

A second day on the train, heading deeper and deeper into the mountains.

The surroundings changed as we slowly wound our way upwards, and lofty snow-capped peaks became to appear, even though it's late June. 

I tried to enjoy the train journey, tried to absorb as much of the magnificent scenery this region is famed for. But mum's condition is a constant worry and distraction. At one point it crossed my mind... Perhaps the next time I take the train will be in mourning, in tribute to the journey I once took with mum. 

Though we've been on the train almost the whole day, suddenly by early afternoon, mum complained that her throat was aching. Whether it's better or worse than before, she does not know, but the doctor said two weeks or so after the last radiotherapy the pain should fade and begin to disappear. It's been two weeks and three days. 

We arrived at our accommodation in the beautiful setting of Jasper, a log cabin surrounded by mountains, bordered by blue, blue lakes. Only after a few bites, mum said she was very, very tired. It was then that i noticed her eye had become bloodshot, dark red filling the  white of her left eye.

She had to excuse herself and retired to her room, her dish barely touched. 

Here I am, finishing my and her dish at a table in a crowded place, feeling vulnerable, feeling I could just break down....

Vancouver to Kamloops

The bold eagle stood and watched, perched high on top of a barren, lifeless tree. Down below, the Fraser River flowed by, full of life, full of vitality. Rough currents rushed past, the surface of the water broken by the random appearance of dizzying whirlpools and ever-changing wave patterns. Rapidly downstream it flowed, having traveled hundreds and hundreds of kilometres from the pristine glacial ponds and lakes higher up in the Rockies. Eventually, the river will meet and melt into the vast, vast Pacific, at which point it will have lost its clear, green hue, and taken on a brown coat of pollution and silt.

A crow, messenger of the spirits according to the natives, called. Its call echoed in the dense expanse of pines and other conifers that sprawled across the backs of hills and mountains that grew taller and taller as we journeyed eastward. The sky was gentle, the sun bright, and the clouds silky and dreamy. Downtown Vancouver’s noise, traffic, and broken windows and looted stores after the hockey loss, was now merely a distant memory...

We rose early to catch the train. Like before every long journey, and perhaps very afraid I'll oversleep, I slept badly and woke up at various intervals throughout the night. Finally, at quarter past six, it was time to rise.

Throughout the day, we were  treated like special guests, pampered with little treats and drinks, and elaborate meals. Though the train traveled slowly, and wound its way along the Fraser, and later the Thomson Rivers towards Kamloops, the speed was perfect for taking in the vast, breathtaking scenery that was ever changing. From lush green  forests tall with pines and other conifers, the landscape gradually transitioned into an arid, desert-like terrain that dry and almost lifeless. Majestic mountains and jagged peaks became barefaced rocks that looked like they could easily crumble. Not only the plants changed, but deer became mountain goats and coyotes which would on occasion stop and watch by the railroad as we noisily passed. And this is only the beginning, for as we continue our journey tomorrow, the scenery will once again change as we enter the Canadian Rockies.

In the wagon, I am most definitely the youngest person (except perhaps for one of the train service personnel, who happens to be studying part time). Most other are pensioners, elderly couples traveling and enjoying life together. I'm not sure what mum thinks when she sees other elderly couples... perhaps a sense of envy, a sense of loss or regret that dad is not here with her? I'm traveling with her, but the dynamic, the interaction is different. I feel it, I think it too myself, and imagine how it would be traveling with a peer or an intimate somebody.

Mum's face looked silently content whenever I would steal glances at her. She would stare out the window, take in the scenery, and just sit there almost motionless for a long time. Traveling has always brought her much joy and pleasure, and I'm glad that we are finally on this trip, which seems to be distracting from her illness and fatigue.

Mum's sleeping already, snoring a little. When we get up in the morning, we'll be on our way to the train station to catch the special train through the Rockies.

Yet, Mum's condition has me on edge, as it does not seem to be any better. I came home from dinner with a friend, and found her already in bed. Her voice has somehow gotten even coarser and less pronounced than before, and she can hardly speak. I told her to stop taking this herbal supplement yesterday, a liquid drink that gives her more energy and is supposed to suppress the growth of the tumour, because she tends to cough and (want to) throw up after taking it, so it's not good for her healing throat. But today, noticeably, her energy lwvel has deteriorated and she napped a while in the afternoon, even though we hadn't done much this morning. And at times I notice her grabbing her left arm, stroking it as if to soothe it. She says it's nothing, but I fear that perhaps her sores and numbness has again returned, which is a bad sign...

I really hope her health will take a turn for the better as we embark on this trip through the mountains. We've come so far, and are so close to making it...

Please, as I prayed before those deities before I left home, may mum's health slowly recover, and may the beauty and scenery of nature touch her, and heal her in little ways...

Last night in vancouver

Last night in Vancouver, I went off on my own for a few hours to meet up with a friend. It's nice to spend some time away from mum, and to be with someone my own age, with whom I can be a different self, laugh and joke about the mundane or 'inappropriate' things I can't with my mum. 

 I've known him for two years or so, and we only get to meet whenever I'm transiting in the city. And it's been four times, maybe more I've met him. But everytime, however brief, over tea or a quick dinner, we connect and catch up with one another's lives over the past few months. 

So tonight, for a change he invited me to his shared apartment for dinner, which was Indian food cooked by a neighbour of his. We sort of picnicked in the backyard of his landlord, enjoying the last bits of sun over nice dall and curry, and over nice warm cup of tea. 

It was refreshing, the evening and the company, for it's been over a month since I could really have a heart to heart talk with someone. Not just about what we've been up to, but also our shared interests in biking, the outdoors, as well as the wonders and woes of relationships. 

"Shame you don't live around here," he said just before I left, "Otherwise we could hang out more!" And he commented that perhaps I should move to Vancouver for a change. 

 I'm not sure where my studies or life takes me, if anywhere... But packing and moving across the country to a whole new place? Surely, it's a joke?

 

Day before the big trip

It's the morning before the big trip. Mum's health condition does not seem to be any better, and that worries me greatly. Perhaps I should be glad that it's not gotten worse, but my aunt, who has been a nurse all her career, whispered to me quietly this morning and said mum did not look too good.

Hopefully, when we are on that train tomorrow, as we wind our way through the Rockies, the beauty and scenery will make mum forget... About her sores, her tiredness, her weak health... But her thraot still aches, her voice is still coarse and very dry, and i feel she is still not eating enough, which may be hampering her recovery.

I should be happy, a friend told me, that we've gotten this far and are finally making the trip we've both been looking forward to. But deep down, I feel a sense of growing concern about her wellbeing. And it is tiring to be constantly watching over her wellbeing, especially when we're traveling and don't have the comforts and luxury of being at home, where we can eat better and rest more.

One thing at a time, but I'll be glad when we're settled down.

See you soon

I walked my cousins to their school and said goodbye. The past few days I've been staying with them and spending some time together. Brief, sweet moments, playing games, catching up.

It's been almost two years since the  oldest of the two arrived in Canada. In his room, which I've been sharing, I can see the soft toy beaver I gave him when he first landed in the country. Inside a little pouch I put a five cent coin, which bears the image of a beaver, minted in 2009, the year he arrived. And on his desk I saw the postcard I gave him two summers ago. A few welcoming words, and on the back of the card a colourful map of his new home land. It's the little things that say a lot, and I think he appreciates the little gifts and notes I've given him over the two years.

Though he has a younger brother,  I'm a bit more concerned about the older one. He reminds me somewhat of me, kind of closed off, quiet, and bit too much of a thinker and bit too mature for his age (15 now). I guess I see my youth in him, somewhat. Perhaps it's projecting my own life and thoughts onto his life, but he doesn't seem happy here, and has a tough time adjusting. Who can blame him, especially being sent abroad, being uprooted from his familiar surroundings and transplanted to a whole new environment and surroundings. It's intimidating, alienating and can really leave a deep impression, of the negative kind, on anyone, especially a teenager just beginning to find himself in the world. 

So at night, lying next to him, we chat and talk, about his life, about school, about his worries and fears. I've always wanted to be an older brother, to have someone I can take care of and help, and with him I feel that role taking root.

We said goodbye, and told them as they crossed the road to their high school. "See you in Montreal," I said. Hopefully, if things work out, the next time I see them, I can show them more of what this vast country has to offer. 

Tiredness

What's wrong now? I should be happy that I'm here with mum, in Canada, but my mind is distracted, I'm not completely here. My mind plays tricks on me, fools me, makes me fantasise and dream ridiculous illusions of moments and people who are not real.

I'm so very tired, and it feels like it's more than just the jetlag. Last time I made this very journey, I was tired and moody for two weekS. Am I feeling the same now? Or can it be that I'm simply exhausted being with mum too long, having to take care of her every need, having to worry about her health and wellbeing?

I need some good sleep...

Shadows

On board the Coastal Celebration bound for Tsawassen, BC. Spent the last two days in Victoria with mum. Overall a pleasant trip, but it's strange to be back there again, especially knowing that the last time I was there was with my friend. 

It's been three months since, and it feels somewhat bizarre to be back so soon. the weather is of course much different, but also the mood, or at least my mood. Who would have thought so many things could happen in just a season, from coming together to separating? But that is life... It never is the way you imagine it, it rarely is the way you would like it, for better or for worse.

 Wandering through the same streets, the same shops, and even staying at the same hotel, I feel myself trying to resist memories. Trying to exorcise a very recent past that was beautiful but, for one reason or another, had to end so abruptly. I find myself trying to be in the moment with mum. But it is difficult, and my mind wanders with my wandering feet...

And like last time, despite the beautiful surroundings, despite the light mood and freedom of travelling, I feel  very tired (perhaps much due to the jetlag) and find myself  longing for home. 

I realise one thing again... It's not really the company or surroundings that make me feel or think like I do. It is myself, it is the restlessness and anxiety within. And nothing can change that, not even the most beautiful flowers, the most magnificent view of a vast ocean and the silhouettes of resting mountain ranges in the background. 

There has to be peace within.

Jetlag

I've done it so many times, but the symptoms seem to get worse and worse. Crossing the Pacific, especially Eastward from Asia to North America, is torturous. The body and biological clock becomes so befuddled by the strange 'time travel'. Even though you fly for ten hours (or more), you actually arrive on the same day, and even a few hours before you departed. So last night, I left  at around midnight, and landed at quarter past seven in the evening. I slept, as you would when it's around midnight, woke up and had a meal just before landing. But was that my breakfast, or my supper?

Time is relative as they say, and I've been told it's best to immediately imagine you're already in the time zone of the place of destination as soon as you board the plane, so you can better adjust to the time difference. But really, inter-continental travel, especially between places that are half a day ahead (or later) can be very confusion to the mind and body.

This morning I woke up at just a little after four thirty, and whatever I did, I simply could not fall back asleep again. So I got up and did some work, and by ten in the morning, when everyone else was just waking up ad starting their day (it's the weekend...) I was dozing off.

As much as I resisted the pull of a warm, comfortable bed, it was just too tempting. Throughout the day, I napped on and off, even though I know it would probably not do me much good and would delay my adjusting to the new time zone.

But it felt like I was struck down by a horribly numbing and headaching illness. My head spun around heavily, and my body  felt so heavy I could not lift myself up from the bed.

Hopefully, the headache, nausea and time confusion will gradually fade...