My heart broke almost instantly when I read the message on Facebook.
A friend of my mum who paid her a visit earlier in the day wrote that mum's condition did not appear very good. "Contact her more, speak to her..." the message said. There was a picture too, and mum looked very tired. My heart was crying again, so overwhelmed by sadness, worry, hurt...
When I spoke to mum this morning she seemed alright. But mum did complain about her pains, and how it seems to be getting worse. Especially with the change in the weather. And she said the chemo treatment that the doctor gave her may not be working. She may have to switch to a new type of medicine. What, she did not know.
I'm losing it right now...
Losing my composure, losing my tears...
losing the collectedness and calm I found in m meditation.
I don't know who to turn to. My ex, my rock, my confidante, my source of comfort and support for so long left me...
And my other friends... I don't feel I can just call them up and start ranting, crying about my problems. How terribly selfish that is to impose my burdens on their busy lives.
Give me a sign... give me a moment of peace.
God, dad, whoever can hear me...
Give me hope, please. Give me hope...
29 October 2011
Shattered dream
Another restless night, waking up at various times throughout with thoughts and longings floating in my head...
I got up, sat in meditation for a little while and felt somewhat better. When the mind is settled and cleared, it fears less, it sees more. It sees beyond suffering and worry, and lets go easier.
Afterwards, I switched on Skype to call mum, and for the first time I saw she was online, so we video chatted. It was good to see her face, to put her face to her voice, and to see the familiar setting of the living room where just a week ago I was on that night before I left.
She talked about how she's been, what she's been up to, and I listened attentively, smiling as she talked about her day. A few times, she commented how great it is to see my face and how great it is to video chat like this.
I showed her the teddy bear she bought me back in january this year, the same one I hug to sleep every night... The same one I give my love and affection to, and kiss every day in the hope that it, a symbol of mums's love and care, can feel my love and care...
Then she mentioned about her pain, which she feels is getting worse with the change of weather. As it gets colder, it seems like the painkillers are losing their effect more quickly. My face saddened as I heard this, and turned even more grey when she said she does not think she can make it to Europe for Christmas.
My dream shattered... I was hoping to meet her there, and planned my trip so I could spend time there with her. I was even planning to use my own money yo surprise her with a ticket, to fly first class, in great comfort, so she can arrive all rested and arrive in style...
I so wanted to see her hold her grandson, in the setting of the home he was born in, the very same home I lived in for ten formative years of my life... But she can't, she says. Just like the other day when we went traveling to the east of the country, every morning she has really unbearable pain that she just wants to lie down and rest. It really takes the fun out of traveling, really hinders her ability, the ability she used to have, to just get up and go, to just go and do all the things she wants to do whenever she's traveling. Now, it has become such that the thought of a long flight, and of being away from the comforts of her own home, is just too much...
Mum apologised for disappointing me, and I guess the disappointment could be easily seen on my face... "Don't worry," I said, "It's ok if you can't make it..." It did not matter so much, but a dream of mine, and a dream of hers, was just shattered...
I comforted her, told her to take a good nights sleep. Throughout our conversation, I realised and felt again what it is to love and care about someone, without wanting anything, without hoping for anything in return. It is the purest form of love and care, uncomplicated and genuine, heartfelt and real. And how fortunate I was to be able to give that to my mum. How brave and strong i was to be capable to give that even though I need it, am longing it myself...
She laughed when she saw the teddy bear with a note on her lap. A hand written note from me, one I wrote while she was talking earlier.
"Take care" it said.
Take good care, my dear mum.
I love and miss you dearly...
28 October 2011
Tormented body and mind
I lie awake, tormented like never before by thoughts, nightmares and fears...
Two nights ago, I was in bed with my friend, holding him, hugging him. Now I am alone, while he is with someone else. I am holding onto my own thin body, trying to keep myself warm, trying to keep myself from crying... God only knows what he is doing, and why he is doing it...
I sense a deep, deep feeling of loss...
Losing my mother, losing my lover, losing my best friend...
Everything that matters dear to me I seem to be losing bit by bit.
And the pain, the hurt is indescribable. I wish I could use a knife to cut myself, to cut away the feelings of pain, cut away the nightmares in my head, the sense of deep loss that is gnawing away at my sanity and my ability to think and function.
In the end what do I have left? What is this pain and suffering all worth? Is it a way to greater freedom, to finally letting go?
More than ever, I need someone to hold me, to assure me, to cradle me to sleep and tell me: "It'll all be over soon..."
Two nights ago, I was in bed with my friend, holding him, hugging him. Now I am alone, while he is with someone else. I am holding onto my own thin body, trying to keep myself warm, trying to keep myself from crying... God only knows what he is doing, and why he is doing it...
I sense a deep, deep feeling of loss...
Losing my mother, losing my lover, losing my best friend...
Everything that matters dear to me I seem to be losing bit by bit.
And the pain, the hurt is indescribable. I wish I could use a knife to cut myself, to cut away the feelings of pain, cut away the nightmares in my head, the sense of deep loss that is gnawing away at my sanity and my ability to think and function.
In the end what do I have left? What is this pain and suffering all worth? Is it a way to greater freedom, to finally letting go?
More than ever, I need someone to hold me, to assure me, to cradle me to sleep and tell me: "It'll all be over soon..."
27 October 2011
Starting again
First day back at school... I woke up relatively early, around six, and sat down to meditate, to calm my mind after a disturbed night of sleep. Before I knew it, it was already an hour and a half later, and the sky was brightening up. Went for a long walk in the forest, and admired the beautiful autumn foliage, already in its final stages. The colours are still dazzling, so bright, in varying shades of yellow and red, but you could tell that the brown and inevitable fall of the leaves are looming close.
At school, I sat and worked for a few hours. Progress is slow, and like every time I come back to my thesis, I must retrace where I left off and find the direction I want to go in. The echo of mum's voice reminded me on the phone earlier to persevere, to do what I must do. But it is so difficult to focus, so very difficult to find determination, to sit down and tell myself I can do this. And I must do this, for I have merely a month and a week or so left till the final, final deadline.
I had lunch with a friend, and like so often, we shared what we had brought with one another. We caught up on our lives over the past month. It was only in talking that I remembered and reminded myself how much has happened in this past month... meditation retreat, the struggles of looking inward and realisations that ensued... writing an exam... cutting off almost all contact with my friend, the source of support and comfort I've relied on for the past three years... heading home to see mum and accompany her through two very long and difficult weeks... and now back here. Back here again and starting my life again...
While having lunch, my supervisor walked in the room. He said nothing of my thesis, and asked me how mum was doing. Somehow he had learned that I went home again, and like always he was concerned. I did not answer, but the blank, the silence and contorted expression on my face must have told him what was going on. And he understood, and asked no more. He had such an expression of concern and gentle compassion. He always has been so patient and understanding with me, and I feel I've been dragging my feet and wasting his time.
I could almost burst out in tears... For some reason, I could almost just burst out crying in front of my professor. But I held back.
I must be strong, be strong...
Be strong.
At school, I sat and worked for a few hours. Progress is slow, and like every time I come back to my thesis, I must retrace where I left off and find the direction I want to go in. The echo of mum's voice reminded me on the phone earlier to persevere, to do what I must do. But it is so difficult to focus, so very difficult to find determination, to sit down and tell myself I can do this. And I must do this, for I have merely a month and a week or so left till the final, final deadline.
I had lunch with a friend, and like so often, we shared what we had brought with one another. We caught up on our lives over the past month. It was only in talking that I remembered and reminded myself how much has happened in this past month... meditation retreat, the struggles of looking inward and realisations that ensued... writing an exam... cutting off almost all contact with my friend, the source of support and comfort I've relied on for the past three years... heading home to see mum and accompany her through two very long and difficult weeks... and now back here. Back here again and starting my life again...
While having lunch, my supervisor walked in the room. He said nothing of my thesis, and asked me how mum was doing. Somehow he had learned that I went home again, and like always he was concerned. I did not answer, but the blank, the silence and contorted expression on my face must have told him what was going on. And he understood, and asked no more. He had such an expression of concern and gentle compassion. He always has been so patient and understanding with me, and I feel I've been dragging my feet and wasting his time.
I could almost burst out in tears... For some reason, I could almost just burst out crying in front of my professor. But I held back.
I must be strong, be strong...
Be strong.
26 October 2011
Back to Montreal
I arrived home, opened the door, turned on the light of my bedroom and saw the bed had been freshly made. The room was clean, much cleaner than I left it, and there was still the smell of fresh cleaning products in the air. On my bed were various teddies, and little notes. All from my friend.Touched, I was, extremely touched, and grateful for all that my friend had done for me, despite my lack of contact with him in recent weeks. And walking around the house made I could see he (and later I learned, another friend of mine) put a lot of effort and spent a lot of time to prepare my home for my return. Fresh groceries, scrubbed oven, cleaned kitchen cupboard doors, floors that have been vacuumed and swiffered. After such a long and difficult few weeks away, I felt I could break down and cry seeing all that my friends have done for me... All for me... Do I deserve so much?
As I was unpacking my bags, the doorbell rang. I opened it, to be greeted by a bunch of colourful flowers. My friend appeared from behind the doorway. It has been such a long time since I last saw him... even longer than planned because of my unplanned and prolonged disappearance back to Asia.
We missed one another, that much is sure. He missed me dearly, and as we hugged, we did not let go for a long well. He smelled me, caressed my body, as I stroked his and sniffed the back of his neck... I could see there were tears in his eyes, and he watered again as we sat down to a quick dinner. It was mesmerising, overwhelming, and melted my resolve and all that hardness and determination I had to let go of my friend...
He stayed the night, I wanted him to, even though I was unsure what he felt. We lay next to one another, and for a long while just lay in one another's warm touch and embrace. And, as expected, like always whenever we lie next to one another, we got intimate. The touch, the smell, the warmth of our bodies together again was simply too much to resist. The physical intimacy was so intense, much more than I had imagined all those days and nights my mind wandered to him, to being with him, to sleeping with him... For those moments of passion, of kissing, of caressing and exploring each other's bodies, I felt there was nothing else... All my troubles, all my worries, all the tiredness, all the mental and physical fatigue faded into nothingness...
We fell asleep together, lying close, savouring the comfort and familiarity of being together, sleeping together...
But we are not together, and as wonderful as the night of bonding and intimacy was, there had, at least for me, developed a distance between us that is increasingly difficult to bridge. I care about him, I love him still, but more and more I find it hard to see how I can be a meaningful part in his life, and how he can be in my life without someone, or both of us, feeling hurt and torn.
"I missed you so much," he said, repeatedly. At one point, he caressed me and said how much he would like to be my boyfriend, how much he wishes to take care of me and to tell my mum not to worry about me...
It was difficult to hear that, as much as I would like that, it was simply difficult to believe that. Here he was lying next to me this night, but the next day, he will go off on a trip with the boy he has feelings for and cannot let go off. Many times, I told him to do what he feels is necessary to resolve his feelings, to free himself from being and feeling torn. I wished he could be free and happy, even if it is not with me, because after the month or so apart and not being in touch much, I feel I could let go of him. But why was he telling me he wants to be my boyfriend? Why was he telling me he loves me so much and wants to live up to the dream of mum to see me settled and have someone who will take care of me? It is just cruel, even if he meant it in the most sincere way... Cruel to say something that he knows fully well is a wish of my mother who is slowly, slowly leaving me...
His love and care for me is genuine, I feel. Yet, he seems to be pursuing something that makes me more and more determined to distance myself from him, so I do not have to be hurt again, so I do not have to hear him say that he loves me so much, and yet cannot let go of his feelings for another.
"I don't want any part of this..." I said to him outright. It simply is exhausting... exhausting after being with my mum for two weeks or so, and to come back to a situation that has not much changed compared to when I left, compared to even a few months or almost a year ago. I know it is exhausting for my friend, that he has cried a lot, and is so burdened by the fact he has feelings for two people. But it is for him to resolve, for him to find out where his heart lies, for I simply am just too tired of being caught in this web of hurt, guilt and seeing him cry... It is selfish, I know. It is selfish that I do not want to share his burden of deep feelings of guilt, sadness and fear of loss when it comes to dealing with his relationship woes. But I just feel I am a cause of his current hurt, and I can really do or say very little more than to step aside and let him deal with things as he sees fit.
I so wish I could help him, help him resolve his problems and worries. When I hold him, when I hug him, deep down I wish so much he could find happiness and peace, deep down I send him thoughts of peace and happiness, and hope so much he can receive it and benefit from it... The only other person I have ever done this to is my mum...
And, perhaps going about it the wrong way, I thought being away, minimising all contact with my friend would make him think clearer and realise what he needs in his life... But on the contrary, he has been hurt, and even angered, by my silence and refusal to pick up the phone when he calls. I thought not talking, not having to hear about my life and what I am going through would help him feel less responsible and more free to pursue his own life and go after his own happiness. But on the contrary, he seems to be still so stuck on me and unable to let me disappear from his life...
Back home, back to my life, from one insurmountable difficulty in my life to the next.
One thing at a time, one thing at a time...
And I choose to let this go, to let things be, whatever and however they will be...
"Why...?
He was calling me, my friend, calling me from London (I don't know how i knew, i just did). Calling to say hello, calling to ask how I'm doing. I was silent, answering only what was necessary so as not to be rude. But I was in no mood to talk. At least not to him.
He sounded cheerful, he was smiling, laughing even. He told me how much fun he was having, and he wasn't alone by himself.
It was at that point that I burst out in tears. I was so distraught, so tormented by his voice. Why was he asking and being concerned about my well-being when he knew I was broken and longing for companionship? And he had the nerve
"Why are you hurting me so...? Why...?" I cried and shouted down the telephone.
It was at that point I woke up from what I realised was a nightmare.
I looked around and found myself in my own bed, lying next to my friend who was fast asleep...
I shuddered and felt so alone lying next to him, knowing fully he has the ability to hurt me again and again. Not by choice, not willingly, because he cares about me, he genuinely does. But he has that ability, and I feel I'm putting myself in a position to be hurt.
25 October 2011
Touch down at YUL
Just landed at YUL, waiting to disembark. I closed my eyes temporarily,
heard the engines fade and die out. A feeling of relief overcame me.
Finally, on solid ground...
Finally, home again, back to my own safe, secure place...
Back to my own life, to my work and routine... Back to the familiar world of my little home and my cat...
At least for a month or so.
Finally, on solid ground...
Finally, home again, back to my own safe, secure place...
Back to my own life, to my work and routine... Back to the familiar world of my little home and my cat...
At least for a month or so.
Hope or suffering
"He, is a patient with terminal liver
cancer. No matter how his family opposes
it, he resolved to stop chemotherapy. That day, he only left behind a letter and left.
He said, he owes his daughter a promise…”
“Dad, can you take me to
school and pick me up from school every day? Daddy, remember to come pick me up!”
“I often think, when a
patient’s life reaches the end, is it hope that is prolonged or is it
suffering? The last time we met, because of liver cancer, his life marked an
end. And his promise was only half realised…”
23 October 2011
Quietly arriving
"What is the purpose of your visit?" Visiting relatives, they live in Surrey. This is true. What may be suspect is why I'm visiting for sixty days, until the end of December, when I'm scheduled to leave the country next.
But he didn't ask why or how, and I didn't say. In fact, I'm just visiting my relatives for two days, and then I'm going back to my own home...
"You live in the Netherlands?" Yes (well at least I used to, until three years ago...) Living somewhere is kind of a 'fluid' concept, right? I mean, i technically could go there whenever I want, as i have the key to the house... And some of my mail still goes there. The mail might get to me a month or so later, but still, it'll get to me.
"What kind of work do you do there?" I'm a student. This is true. Only, I study here, in Canada, not "there" (well, technically, "there" in Montreal...).
After asking what kind of food I have with me, the border agent compared my passport picture with the guy standing in front of him. Perhaps the guy looked a little dazed, a little red in the eyes from lack of sleep and having watched too many movies. and his hair was unkempt, and to the astute eye or nose, you could tell the guy was wearing one-day old clothes, but it's the same guy, more or less, after 16 hours of tortuous journeying across the globe.
Stamp here, scribble with red ink there, and he handed back my passport and customs declaration. Relieved I was, and somewhat surprised it went so smoothly. I was expecting a host of questions and being dragged to aside for questioning or even a body search. But I was spared, and given a friendly welcome instead.
Into Canada I stepped, and within ten minutes of landing I exited the airport terminal, greeted the sun and a whole new day with my cart lade with three big suitcases.
Just visiting this time... Visiting my little black and white cat, visiting my university, visiting my long overdue thesis, visiting my two bedroom apartment and all my life possessions.
We're all visitors in this world anyways, and now I officially am one according to the government of Canada.
Wish
I knew it would make me cry, and it did.
A short drama film about David, a boy with only a short time to live. The tumour inside him is growing bigger and bigger, and the doctor describes the size of it in terms of fruits...
First a kiwi, then a peach, then at the end of the movie, a grapefruit... But important is not the size of his growing tumour, but his wish before he dies. He wants to have sex, to finally lose his virginity. But sex is not just like in the porn movies, his priest friend reminds him. Sex is best when there is love, where the love builds and develops.
David finds himself with a prostitute, but nothing happens. In the end, he realises that all he wants, all he wishes for is intimacy. It's not physical act or lust, it's the human touch, the very idea and very reality of lying next to another human being, of feeling the warmth of another body. The touch, a loving, intimate touch, is more meaningful than just sex.
What could be more reassuring, more comforting in the face of death to be touched, to be held and to be reassured that you are not alone...?
First a kiwi, then a peach, then at the end of the movie, a grapefruit... But important is not the size of his growing tumour, but his wish before he dies. He wants to have sex, to finally lose his virginity. But sex is not just like in the porn movies, his priest friend reminds him. Sex is best when there is love, where the love builds and develops.
David finds himself with a prostitute, but nothing happens. In the end, he realises that all he wants, all he wishes for is intimacy. It's not physical act or lust, it's the human touch, the very idea and very reality of lying next to another human being, of feeling the warmth of another body. The touch, a loving, intimate touch, is more meaningful than just sex.
What could be more reassuring, more comforting in the face of death to be touched, to be held and to be reassured that you are not alone...?
Take off from Narita
Take off from Narita
The plane just took off, now still climbing to cursing altitude, upwards and onwards to Canada.
Relatively smooth journey till now, though twice I've had to 'lie' when I was asked where I live. I can't say Canada, as I have no visa to enter the country since I left before receiving the new study permit. I'm not sure what will happen at the border, whether they'll interrogate me about what I'm doing and why I'm going Canada, but that will come when it comes...
Whatever happens, it was worth it just going to see mum again. Two and something weeks I stayed, 18 days in total, but it seemed and felt so much longer... Why...?
At various points, I found myself counting down to the day I leave, looking forward to getting on the plane and not looking back. It was that difficult...
Just because I don't see it, does not mean it does not happen. But it does, selfish or not, make it easier for me not to see things that hurt me, that drive me so towards frustration and even anger. It was that difficult...
So difficult I at times felt like bashing myself against the wall so I could wake up from a terrible nightmare. But imagine what it feels like for mum, who has to live with her pains and sores everyday, every moment of the day...
As I sat and waited for the plane, I wrote to my brother. An email, a kind of report of what happened over the past two weeks. It was in a way also a report for myself, to tell and remind myself that things are the way they are, and that I must be prepared. For anything, for everything...
Mum's condition is really deteriorating, and I'm afraid the chemo may not work. Unless some kind of miracle happens, the tumour will most likely get bigger and bigger, and spread elsewhere. And there will be more pain, more sores, more unbearable pain...
Sometimes, i just wish everything can end. I don't mean to whine and rant, but sometimes I wonder who can really know how I feel? Who can really know what I feel deep down inside? I don't want praise, and I don't need to be told what a wonderful child I am... I just want this to end. All of this travelling, all of this uncertainty, all of this seeing mum in pain and suffering to end. It's mentally and physically draining, and I'm not sure how much more I can take...
I have tried, this time around, and over the past two, three years to visit mum as often as i can to give her support, to give her encouragement. I have tried so hard, given my own time and life to be with her, to make her stronger and better. But I know deep down, the illness will win one day. It is a matter of time, and I must prepare myself, brace myself to face that by myself.
Despite all this complaining and whining, I still have to be grateful for the opportunity I have been given, however tiring it has been, to spend some time with mum and make some more memories together. This time around, I've managed to fulfil a dream of hers, to let her see first hand what it is that her donations does for less fortunate people. It was beautiful, simply beautiful...
Despite all my complaining, I have tried and tried everyday to bring mum happiness and peace, reassurance and encouragement. Is it enough? Is anything ever enough?
Even if it is not, it must be. Peace can ever be found if and when you make peace with the way things are, if and when you do not wish to change things but just take things as they are. I know before I wrote I just want things to end, but one day, everything will end, all this 'mess' I see or find myself trying to navigate through, will end when I just let things be. And I'm trying to do that, beginning to do that.
I did not cry when I left Taiwan today, I did not cry at the last moment when mum closed the front door. I would normally. But I did not. Perhaps it is a sign that I've learned to let go. To just be, to resist negative emotions, not to let sadness or years to take me over.
I gave mum a long, tight hug, deep inside wishing her happiness, peace and freedom from pain. I took her left hand and arm and stroked it gently touched it, held it in my hand. I'm sure mum felt that that, and how meaningful it was. And I can only wish and hope that my touch will soothe her pains and worries, and that the soothing will last long, long till after I am gone.
I looked back, to see the door close, and just a split second before day, saw mum wave and smile a little.
Farewell, my dear, brave mother... Be well. I will be well and take care of myself.
The plane just took off, now still climbing to cursing altitude, upwards and onwards to Canada.
Relatively smooth journey till now, though twice I've had to 'lie' when I was asked where I live. I can't say Canada, as I have no visa to enter the country since I left before receiving the new study permit. I'm not sure what will happen at the border, whether they'll interrogate me about what I'm doing and why I'm going Canada, but that will come when it comes...
Whatever happens, it was worth it just going to see mum again. Two and something weeks I stayed, 18 days in total, but it seemed and felt so much longer... Why...?
At various points, I found myself counting down to the day I leave, looking forward to getting on the plane and not looking back. It was that difficult...
Just because I don't see it, does not mean it does not happen. But it does, selfish or not, make it easier for me not to see things that hurt me, that drive me so towards frustration and even anger. It was that difficult...
So difficult I at times felt like bashing myself against the wall so I could wake up from a terrible nightmare. But imagine what it feels like for mum, who has to live with her pains and sores everyday, every moment of the day...
As I sat and waited for the plane, I wrote to my brother. An email, a kind of report of what happened over the past two weeks. It was in a way also a report for myself, to tell and remind myself that things are the way they are, and that I must be prepared. For anything, for everything...
Mum's condition is really deteriorating, and I'm afraid the chemo may not work. Unless some kind of miracle happens, the tumour will most likely get bigger and bigger, and spread elsewhere. And there will be more pain, more sores, more unbearable pain...
Sometimes, i just wish everything can end. I don't mean to whine and rant, but sometimes I wonder who can really know how I feel? Who can really know what I feel deep down inside? I don't want praise, and I don't need to be told what a wonderful child I am... I just want this to end. All of this travelling, all of this uncertainty, all of this seeing mum in pain and suffering to end. It's mentally and physically draining, and I'm not sure how much more I can take...
I have tried, this time around, and over the past two, three years to visit mum as often as i can to give her support, to give her encouragement. I have tried so hard, given my own time and life to be with her, to make her stronger and better. But I know deep down, the illness will win one day. It is a matter of time, and I must prepare myself, brace myself to face that by myself.
Despite all this complaining and whining, I still have to be grateful for the opportunity I have been given, however tiring it has been, to spend some time with mum and make some more memories together. This time around, I've managed to fulfil a dream of hers, to let her see first hand what it is that her donations does for less fortunate people. It was beautiful, simply beautiful...
Despite all my complaining, I have tried and tried everyday to bring mum happiness and peace, reassurance and encouragement. Is it enough? Is anything ever enough?
Even if it is not, it must be. Peace can ever be found if and when you make peace with the way things are, if and when you do not wish to change things but just take things as they are. I know before I wrote I just want things to end, but one day, everything will end, all this 'mess' I see or find myself trying to navigate through, will end when I just let things be. And I'm trying to do that, beginning to do that.
I did not cry when I left Taiwan today, I did not cry at the last moment when mum closed the front door. I would normally. But I did not. Perhaps it is a sign that I've learned to let go. To just be, to resist negative emotions, not to let sadness or years to take me over.
I gave mum a long, tight hug, deep inside wishing her happiness, peace and freedom from pain. I took her left hand and arm and stroked it gently touched it, held it in my hand. I'm sure mum felt that that, and how meaningful it was. And I can only wish and hope that my touch will soothe her pains and worries, and that the soothing will last long, long till after I am gone.
I looked back, to see the door close, and just a split second before day, saw mum wave and smile a little.
Farewell, my dear, brave mother... Be well. I will be well and take care of myself.
Last night
Final few hours at home (this time around). Close to midnight, lying on the floor next to mum's bed.
Last night together, but we didn't really spend much time together today. She met up with a couple of her close friends from university, and said she had a terribly good time laughing and connecting over lunch, afternoon snacks and dinner. I spent the day meeting up with my cousin, doing some last minute shopping and packing.
"Yes, life should be like that," I said, "Lots of laughing and being happy everyday." And she said herself, she did not feel much pain or aches today, at least not after she met up with her friends. And even staying out and chatting (gossiping!) for hours and hours, she did not feel sleepy or too tired. She said she would try to live everyday like today.
It's not quite the last night I expected, as a friend of mum's is sleeping over, and the whole evening they were still chit chatting. At one point, they were skyping with my brother and my nephew. Again, seeing her grandson brought so much joy and such beautiful smiles to mum's face, and seeing that, I was comforted.
Just before sleeping, mum took the effort to write a little personal card to my friend (the ex). She wanted to do it, to thank him for often caring so much and asking about her health and her condition. And in the note mum also thanked him for taking care of me. In one of my suitcases, there is a lovely gift for him that mum insisted on buying.
Three suitcase are packed, ready to be taken away and to fly home. In truth, only one of the three is actually mine, the other two contain mostly goodies and gifts that my uncle would like to give to his family, whom I'm going to see and stay with in Vancouver. I was at first surprised to see so much stuff, but I realised, even though they are just cookies and candies, they are an expression of a dad's love for his children, and a husband's love for his wife. As heavy and cumbersome as the suitcases may be, I am in a way honoured to be given the position of "couriering" that special expression love and connection across the ocean, deliver those goodies thousands of kilometres away and personally into their hands.
I fall asleep with the big teddy bear my friend once bought me, but for almost a year now has been keeping my mum company. Normally he sits on her bed, with his somewhat sad eyes and an expression as if he is searching for something. Perhaps it is a hug he is searching for, and tonight, he will be in my arms.
The few hours the teddy is in my arms I'll hold him tightly, close to my heart, squeeze him, kiss him, love him. Perhaps, and I can only dream of it, after I am gone, he will give mum the care and love I have given him on my last night at home.
Last night together, but we didn't really spend much time together today. She met up with a couple of her close friends from university, and said she had a terribly good time laughing and connecting over lunch, afternoon snacks and dinner. I spent the day meeting up with my cousin, doing some last minute shopping and packing.
"Yes, life should be like that," I said, "Lots of laughing and being happy everyday." And she said herself, she did not feel much pain or aches today, at least not after she met up with her friends. And even staying out and chatting (gossiping!) for hours and hours, she did not feel sleepy or too tired. She said she would try to live everyday like today.
It's not quite the last night I expected, as a friend of mum's is sleeping over, and the whole evening they were still chit chatting. At one point, they were skyping with my brother and my nephew. Again, seeing her grandson brought so much joy and such beautiful smiles to mum's face, and seeing that, I was comforted.
Just before sleeping, mum took the effort to write a little personal card to my friend (the ex). She wanted to do it, to thank him for often caring so much and asking about her health and her condition. And in the note mum also thanked him for taking care of me. In one of my suitcases, there is a lovely gift for him that mum insisted on buying.
Three suitcase are packed, ready to be taken away and to fly home. In truth, only one of the three is actually mine, the other two contain mostly goodies and gifts that my uncle would like to give to his family, whom I'm going to see and stay with in Vancouver. I was at first surprised to see so much stuff, but I realised, even though they are just cookies and candies, they are an expression of a dad's love for his children, and a husband's love for his wife. As heavy and cumbersome as the suitcases may be, I am in a way honoured to be given the position of "couriering" that special expression love and connection across the ocean, deliver those goodies thousands of kilometres away and personally into their hands.
I fall asleep with the big teddy bear my friend once bought me, but for almost a year now has been keeping my mum company. Normally he sits on her bed, with his somewhat sad eyes and an expression as if he is searching for something. Perhaps it is a hug he is searching for, and tonight, he will be in my arms.
The few hours the teddy is in my arms I'll hold him tightly, close to my heart, squeeze him, kiss him, love him. Perhaps, and I can only dream of it, after I am gone, he will give mum the care and love I have given him on my last night at home.
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