One day return

11.02 South of the Juoshui Creek, outside the window is the vast countryside. The sky is much clearer, and cleaner, as if an hour's train ride later I find myself in another country. A more tranquil and familiar country. A one day trip to my parents' hometown of Chiayi to meet relatives from both sides of the family. My Brother and sister-in-law, and baby nephew, are meeting me at the destination station. In fact, I saw them board at a midway stop, a city where they have been for the past couple of days to be with my sister-in-law's family. Having lunch with mum's side of the family, and then dinner with dad's side. Then taking a late evening train to be back in Taipei for bed. Before I left, mum was still in bed, having been slept poorly the night before from coughing. The cold spell and her weak Health has caused the first symptoms of the flu to manifest. I too slept terribly, and only managed to doze off at four or so, and having to wake up at eight... A long day begins. A one day return trip. "One day we will all return to where we came from"... -- 20.20 A long day is almost ending, now hurtling at close to 300km/hr northward toward Taipei.  I am tired, and my stomach is churning terribly from the stress of trying to catch the high speed train. My nephew was crying and howling almost the whole way to the train station, as he has been out the whole day and must be grumpy from not being able to rest. It has been a full day, meeting a lot of people, and for my nephew it must have been strenuous having so many people incessantly poking their faces close to his, and wanting to hold him. And for the first time, my nephew, the first child of the next generation of my family, appeared at the home of my grandparents and paid respects to the ancestral shrine.  It was a momentous event in a culture that values greatly paying homage to the elders, that values family ties and the continuation of the family lineage. The black and white picture of my grandpa and grandma (my dad's parents) looked down at my brother holding his little baby. Was it me, or did the portraits look particularly happy at that very moment? Were I alone, I would have burst out in tears of joy from how that moment again touched my heart so profoundly.  Lunch and dinner are just occasions to get everyone together, and to let everyone see my nephew for the first time. I ate little, just enough to fill my stomach, while the rest of the time listened to others speak and tried to fill others in on mum's condition. "Where is mum?" they would ask, and I, as the spokesperson of sorts, would have to answer how mum is not well and briefly explain the past four weeks.  I spared the details.  I know people care, and people like to know. What use are details but the finer lines and shades of a broader picture that more or less speaks for itself?  "When are you going back to Canada?" or some variation on the same theme, was a common question. "I don't know. Depends on mum's condition..." For the past four years or so, this seems to have become my standard answer every time someone asks when I am leaving again. My dad's youngest brother, never one to be careful and tactful with words, told me, twice, three times, no less: "Your mum's condition is very bad. She doesn't have long. Come back here and take care of her."  I replied with a forced smile, not one that is happy or sad, not one that agreed or disagreed, but one that was a mere polite acknowledgement that I heard what he said.  Lunch and dinner were mere occasions to get people together. But the one person I really wanted to see, but did not manage to, was my uncle (dad's older sister's husband). News of him is vague. Last i heard, my uncle's  thyroid gland was the epicentre of his spreading cancer. "One month, or two," a cousin of mine, who happens to be a nurse, said,  "Very quick..."  My uncle was discharged from hospital this morning, and returned home after a five week stay, almost two weeks longer than my mum. He even stayed over during first few days of the lunar new year holidays, underlying the direness of his condition, for only intensive care units remain open suing this period.  I spoke to my aunt (his wife) briefly, and she said it was not convenient to visit. I understood. My uncle's daughter told me the other day on the phone that my uncle is doing treatment. A treatment of "last resort", to make sure he is comfortable and his sickness does not cause him too much suffering.  I too understood what that meant. There is a special ward for patients like that at the hospital where mum visits, and I wondered whether my uncle was in such a ward. My uncle's son did manage to come to dinner, and from him I could confirm that my uncle's condition is bleak. He said little, but what he said was enough. "It's not easy. You must know how it is too... We must be strong."  Strong we must be... Strong, brave, unflinching and still find reasons and hope to go on with life when one by one loved ones are slowly, slowly deprived of life...