Silences

Mum sounded sleepy. She said she is feeling sleepy every day. It's because of the painkillers that the doctor has prescribed her. She sleeps well, which is a good thing, but she can sit there and just doze off.
As she talked, her voice was frail and halting. I strained to hear her.

And there really wasn't much to say after she told me about her day going to the park in the morning and sitting by the computer. She did complain a bit about the new carer (the old one was fired because she used mum's computer and wore mum's shoes without even asking permission... And she was too young and somewhat incompetent...), who is attentive and does a good job helping mum with her daily needs, but is a lousy cook. She sounded like she was straining to talk, as if every word took great effort and energy...

I told mum my day, about playing tennis with friends and how I was reunited with my cat again. And I told her about the unseasonal hot and humid spell we have been having for a couple of days. That was the end of the conversation, followed by awkward silences.

I spent an hour or so writing to a friend who lost her mum to cancer last year. She said she still has difficulty coping, and that she sometimes feels like she was left alone. Reading her message added to my fears and anxieties... will I too feel like the world has collapsed once mum leaves me? Will, like my friend, just break down and cry so hard when I think back to memories of mum? I wrote to my friend, describing briefly how life has been over the past two, three months. But my words felt so inadequate, felt so unfeeling. They did not do justice to all the motions and experiences that mum and I shared. No words can ever recount how difficult, and yet touching at the same time, this entire episode till last week in Taiwan has been. The way I wrote and described the events felt like I was narrating a story, but in a way that was sterile and weak, in a way that removed all humanness and heart-felt emotions of the entire experience, that robbed all the suffering, the fears, tears and glimmers of hope of all meaning...

Perhaps I am just too tired. Too tired to write these days, too tired to describe what I am feeling inside. Too tired to structure my thoughts and emotions, and out pours words that when I come back to read are so confused and disjointed. Words that do so little to capture the state of insecurity and longings for liberation and love I truly feel inside.