Two mosquitoes...

Please forgive me for killing you...

 It has been a long time since I last consciously killed something. I felt terrible to see the blood splash in my palms. I felt terrible seeing your dead corpse fall from my hand...

I know it's no excuse, but I just want mum and brother to sleep well and not be disturbed during the night. Mum has already so much difficulty sleeping, and is already of such poor health, she needs good rest...

Please forgive  me, and go reincarnate into a greater being...

Talk

It's rare that brother and I have time to really talk these days, especially as we live on different parts of the world. Even though he's been back for almost a month, most of the time he is away in his in-law's city, or sitting in front of the television.

The last time we had a heart-to-heart was probably just after dad passed away and around the same time when mum began her first chemotherapy treatments. That was already  four years ago. Again, sickness and death brings people together...

I sat down on the floor and began what I wanted to say about mum's condition. He listened t what I had to say about stopping treatment and just "letting things be". And he threw the question back at me: "What's going to happen then?"

I honestly do not know what will happen. The worse case scenario is that the cancer will start to spread dramatically, and there will come a point when mum will experience terrible pain. But between then, if and when 'then' comes, and now, at least mum can enjoy a relatively quiet life and not have to pop into the hospital every two weeks for treatments, appointments and the nausea and misery after the treatments.

Brother listened to me as I told him how mum has on numerous occasions told me about her intention to "end this all", about how the continuing treatments are eroding her will to live and tiring her (and tiring me too...). I reminded him that it was four years she went through chemo after chemo, and how every few months for the past four years, I come back to be with her. I reminded him that ever since her retirement last year, she has been doing treatment... December, March, April to June, two months of travelling and then resuming treatment again in September, until December, until her recent surgery.
If this does not mentally and physically erode someone's spirit and body, what will?

"What's going to happen when she stops treatment?"

I can't say...

But he believes she should continue with it all.

Rest in peace...

"People have to live their lives anticipating separation..."

I could not help but cry. I wrote about Beany (豆豆）about two years ago. Headline news today: "Little Cancer Warrior Beany left".

Reading the story touched me very much. The nine-year old boy has been in and out of hospital for three years battling neurblastoma, a rare form of cancer that affects the  nervous system in children and infants. He never cried in front of his parents, he never complained of hardship and wanting to give up in front of his parents, for fear of hurting his parents. Just before he left this world, he told his mother he did not feel his illness will get better, and when it comes to that day "please do not be sad everyone!"

What is amazing about this boy is his optimism and care for the wellbeing of other people.  Even when he was really unwell, he would ask how his brother and his sister are doing. He told his classmates who came to visit at the hospital to save a seat for him for the day he returns. And in order to help cover medical expenses, he was often seen at the side of the road helping his parents sell sweets and candy. Again and again, the family refused to accept donations from people, even when Beany's condition caught the news media.

Dozens of chemotherapies, several surgeries later, cancer still won and took this little, brave angel away from this world.

What was the purpose of his brief nine years on this world?

Perhaps to inspire other children, for his struggles and life story has become a chapter in the local school curriculum.

What was the meaning of all those treatments and pain he had to undergo?

Perhaps to show his parents, his siblings the meaning of love and how it can bring together a family, even facing the direst of circumstances.
 In those final hours, the nurses who have spent months taking care of this beautiful, bold boy sang the song to him: "Can only miss you"..

Rest in peace, Beany... A lot of people have been touched by your courage and your innocence. You have given me another reason to be strong, to care, and to love, no matter what...

 (translation mine)

Love, lost love cannot be asked back.
I still have words I want to say to you,
[I] cannot bare to say them, [I] cannot say them in time.
The words at parting are the most difficult to come out of the mouth.
You will find new life,
I will collect my sadness,
Believe everything was worth it.

Let go and go!
I wish you good fortune and happiness
Fly freely with angels at your side.
Let go and leave!
Except for remembering the radiance of your smile and voice,
[I] can only miss you…

Ill

I was gone less than 12hours, and came home to mum sick and coughing horribly, throwing up and producing large quantities of phlegm. Already past midnight, and she cannot fall asleep, and neither can I. Another late night, even though I am so physically and emotionally drained from my trip earlier in the day. It really was not easy... Not easy to again be on the brink of losing someone close in my life, someone who was a part of my childhood and an integral part of those carefree summer days in the countryside of southern Taiwan...

With treatment planned in two days, mum cannot afford to fall ill. Just yesterday, she told me she wants to delay the new treatment yet again, because she is not feeling up to it.

I am not sure if that will be a good idea, as the doctor seemed really eager to want to conduct the new treatment as soon as possible, perhaps fearing if not done soon, the target areas may become too big for the treatment to be effective.

Countdown to Monday begins...

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...

Letter

What do you say to someone who is near the end of the journey of life?
This is not the first time, and it for sure will not be my last.
Do you say "Get well soon?", even though he will not?
Do you ask "How are you feeling?" when you know very well you cannot imagine the physical pain and emotional turmoil he is experiencing, and when you know very well you can do little to take either of those things from him?

What do you write to someone whose every day may be the last, whose every minute is uncertain whether it will lead to the next? You write with your heart, you write with words that will infuse beauty and wisdom, compassion and humanity.

Over two years ago when I saw my friend for the last time before he passed away a week later, I wrote him a card. It was not a get well card, more a "be well" card. "Savour every moment" I remember writing to him, "Treasure every breath". He was a devout Buddhist, and the one I accredit for leading me onto the spiritual path of meditation and living with joy and loving-kindness. He taught me and told me many times before "Life is only so much", and that anything in this universe "is only ever so much" (如是). So let go... Let go of everything. And those were the words I gave back to him in my card, for those were the words he once gifted me. And accompanying my card were pictures... Of the ocean, of mountains, of flowers, of sunsets and sunrises... Pictures of the beautiful ways and expressions of this universe, lest my friend should forget.

He cried seeing those pictures, and stroked the images like they were so dear to him. His family told me the pictures were above his bed when he peacefully left this world...

May it also be that my words and pictures on their way to my uncle will bring him much peace, tranquility and a gentle, small reminder of what wonderful beauties there are in this world...

Fearing death?

I didn't think it bothered me before, death, but the past few nights, I would suddenly stir from my sleep, as I just did now, tormented by images of death...

Of mum dying.

I thought I was not afraid, not afraid of losing the dearest person, of losing the only true source of support, in my life right now. but the images in my sleeping mind tell me otherwise.

Four thirty in the morning, and I am awake... Tired and wanting to sleep, but cannot. Why this sudden obsession of my mind with death? Is it because of the news earlier this week that my ex's grandmother passed away? Is it because my cousin last night told me that my uncle's nearing the final days of his life...? Or is it because of what I told my mum yesterday, when I suggested to her to stop all treatment once and for all?

I see images of mum dying, horribly dying... And what bothers me most is that I see to be watching without any feelings in these images and dreams. Why does it not bother me?

I truly am losing it... Losing control of my mind, losing control of my thoughts and fears...

lost will

Where do you find the will to go on?

How do you push yourself wake everyday and do something with life...?

When you lose faith, when you lose hope, you live from moment to moment wondering what life is all about, wondering why you still breathe, still must eat, and why you still must feel.

How have I descended to this mess? How have I become so down that I long to just sleep, and sleep and sleep, and long to close my eyes and pretend there is nothing going on? My head almost constantly is throbbing and aching, my mind wild with thoughts and longings, my heart tearing and bleeding...

Where can I find the source of strength to overcome this terrible, terrible depression I find myself in? Whom can I turn to for support and a kind word, or quiet simply a warm, gentle embrace?

I so crave reassurance right now... I so need someone, something to tell me, to reassure that there will be better days ahead, to remind me not to lose hope, not to give up, not to drown in depression and frustration...

I need something to free my mind and lift me up.

Soon, before I completely die.

No more, no more...

Tears were rolling in her eyes, she said as she recalled that day when she opened my thesis and read my dedication. It is things like that she lives for, she said... Touching moments in life, not hospital treatments and doctor's appointments.

I bit the inside of my lower lip, so hard I could taste my own blood. Biting the insides of my lips is something I have learned can control the tears. Strange, because it hurts so much, but the physical pain perhaps overpowers the mental pain...

I hesitated to say it, but it has been on my mind a long time. I hesitate because I wonder... is it for her own good that I am saying this, or for my own selfish interests? Is it because I don't want to be (t)here to take care of mum, as I have done on and off for the past three years or so, or is it really because I have her best interests at heart?


"Stop the treatments", I suggested. Stop them completely.

No more chemotherapies...
No more radiotherapies...
No more cancer indices...
No more scans and tests and injections...
No more hospital visits, no more sitting in the crowded corridors and waiting, and waiting...

No more, no more...

I know I have alluded to my message before, so it was not a shocker. The reality is this: the cancer is spreading, unstoppably. How fast, how slow, I am not sure. What is certain is if you treat one place, another problem area pops up. For now, the the greatest source of her pain, the tumour compressing on the spine, has been removed. And in a few days she is due for treatment to (hopefully) eradicate any remaining traces of the cancer on the spine.

And then what? Her main physician referred to the fact that she may need to undergo more chemotherapy after the upcoming radiotherapy to contain her illness. Yes, contain, because there is no cure once cancer metastasises, which it already has. And sometime ago, he told mum that there are no drugs that are effective any more, because she's used them all. Once you have used one, the cancer cells become resistant. The chemo just kills the healthy cells and has very little effect on the ones you want to kill. Xeloda, Folfox, Folfiri, Erbitux... what else is there out there? And if the treatments are not working, why keep on doing it?  How much more money must we burn through to continue with treatment after treatment? It's not about the money... it's about the dignity and quality of life.

How painful is it to watch a dear one suffer? How painful is it to watch your loved one bend over the toilet bowl and choke on her own vomit? How painful is it to have to quickly sweep away the falling strands of hair so that the one you care about more than life itself does not have to be reminded of her hair loss...? Multiply my feelings tenfold, hundredfold, and that pain would never ever equate the pain, fears and anxieties mum feels undergoing treatment after treatment, time after time. Is it any wonder why mum would like to "end it all"? Is it any wonder mum is becoming dazed and numb and looks so very, very tired...?

So stop it all.

Stop it all and let fate take its course?

Stop it all, and let the demonic cells grow and multiply, feed and fester inside her body until one day her body is but a rotten, cancerous corpse...?

After signing the agreement to proceed with cyberknife, with what I suggested to mum, why do I again feel like mum's life is placed in my hands...? Do I hold the warrant to her life (and death)? Is it because I really care, or I am too tired of caring any more and want this to quickly end?

How heavy, how very, very heavy that burden, that responsibility is... how heavy it is to tell your own mother to give up on treatment while she is ahead, knowing fully well what the outcome of that decision might be... And where was brother while we are discussing such a life changing matter, discussing the future life of our dear mother? Playing mahjong with his new family elsewhere in the country. Is she not also my brother's mother...?

Mum understood what I was saying, and perhaps why I was saying it. It's soon her sixtieth birthday... does she want to spend the last few years, months, or however long she has still, of her life going in and out of the hospital? She's lived that life for the last  four years, and I have lived it, from afar and from close by, with her. Sixty years of life she's almost had, and would it not be a shame if it were all overshadowed by the pain and misery of the confinement of the hospital walls in that final leg of her journey in this universe? Dad experienced it, my uncle, who is perhaps nearing the end of his life, is experiencing it... so many people I have seen in the past few years just seem to rot away in hospitals. And how horrible that is... how undignified, and what a crude and colourless way to leave this world that is!

"Don't you want to see more of the world? See the flowers blossom in Spring in Europe again?" I was reminded of a story she once shared with me about this elderly couple, both of who got cancer. The husband (or was it the wife?) decided to go travel, see and explore the world and seize his days, while the wife (or husband) decided to stay home. The latter died soon after, while the other traveled the world and experienced life in a  totally new light... Eventually, with absolute certainty, we will all die. But we may be able to influence the way we die, or at the very least the final days and moments before we die. Is this naive make-belief or bravely and confidently facing death?

I know mum was moved by my words, and I know deep down, she agrees with me, for she has on so many occasions expressed to me her disdain for hospitals and building fatigue of having to go through so many treatments, take so many different pills-- all of which are stacked up on her shelf like little mounds. But can she really just "go"? Can she really "live and let live", as they say? In this case, it really is about living, and letting life live itself for however much longer, in whatever way it carries you...

Of course, ultimately it is mum's decision. But one that will have a bearing on my life and my future. What if she follows my advice and urgings and suffers a horrible, painful end? Will I be able to live the rest of my life knowing I influenced the person dearest to my heart, to my life, to forgo the chance at prolonging her life by forgoing medical treatment...? Will I be haunted by nightmares, more than ever before, and tormented by a guilty conscience if influenced by what I said mum stops everything?

Ask me in a month's time, and perhaps this issue may be moot.

Ask me in a year's time, and perhaps these questions will have been answered.

give up

When you give up everything, what else have you got to lose?

Sleep my baby, at my breast,
Tis a mothers arms round you.
Make yourself a snug, warm nest.
Feel my love forever new.
Harm will not meet you in sleep,
Hurt will always pass you by.
Child beloved, always youll keep,
In sleep gentle, mothers breast nigh.
Sleep in peace tonight, sleep,
O sleep gently, what a sight.
A smile I see in slumber deep,
What visions make your face bright? 

rough night

There were haunting, disturbingly haunting images of mum flashing across my mind behind I sudden awoke... I shuddered.

3am, and I was woken up as much by the images as by mum's coughing.

For a few days in a row, she's been sleeping badly, or barely at all. Her appetite has also declined dramatically. A plate of vegetables, and she would only eat a spoonful or two. And during the day, she sits there in her chair, and just stares out into nothingness...

Depression? Lost the will to fight and continue living, as she told me before? It troubles me deeply, in my waking and sleeping moments, in my thoughts and prayers, in my silent cries for help to anyone, even to "God", even though I have never appealed to him before. So desperate I have become, so desperate I seem willing to cling onto anything, any one, for help...

I have never seen her like this, ever. And there is so little I can do to motivate her, encourage her, or make her feel better, because everything is answered with: "I'm too tired... Too tired"

Me too. I am too tired...

memory lane

Feeling like I need some time alone, I took the metro downtown and got off at a stop where I know there is a famous night market.

The weather was dreadful, and within minutes I was drenched, and hungry. As it's the second day of the new year holidays, much is still closed, and wherever it's open, it's crowded with families eating and celebrating, which for me to go in by myself would be very depressing... And there were moments, being drenched, and wandering around the empty city on a cold night like this all by my self, I felt u could easily cry from the deep, deep sense of loneliness and abandonment I felt...

I turned a street corner, and recognised the place... Dad lived here a couple ten years or so ago, in an apartment provided by his bank for bachelors/bachelorettes. At the time, mum and us, the children, were in the Netherlands, and dad worked and lived here alone by himself.

I knew the area well, for every summer I would come stay with him for a month or two. We'd go out to dinner at nearby eateries, and we'd stroll around the area every evening after his work. I knew the area well, and there are many memories at various places.



I walked past Dongmen Market, now a darkened alleyway as everyone has gone home for the holidays... I came to the gates of the building where dad lived on the fourth floor, in room 413 ( I recall many times whenever I left after my summer stay, I'd quietly "bless" the room, for I never liked the room number (4 being inauspicious in Taiwan, and 13... Well, 13 is 13)). A sense of nostalgia overcame me... How young I was then... Thirteen to the age of seventeen or so. Was I carefree, innocent, and free from worries? Not necessarily, for I had things that occupied my mind. Maybe not as heavy as illness and death, maybe not as frustrating as being broken hearted and feeling as lonely as I do now. But there were worries back then, for I was, and I guess have always been, a thoughtful (ie think too much...) boy.



Those were the beginnings of My parents' estrangement, which cumulated in their eventual (physical) separation. Even short periods of being together, there would be arguments, arguments which traumatised me. It made me feel so torn between a dad I care about a lot (but whom I could not really approach and express my love to, except every year with a card on this birthday), and a mother I loved deeply and often felt was wronged. I often felt like I
needed to be the bridge between the two, and was often the role of messenger. After periods of "cold wars" (as I called it...), imagine the smile on my face, the joy, joy, in my heart when they would start talking to one another again.. Those arguments, often over trivial things like money matters or what to eat and what to wear, caused me to vow that I, if i were in a relationship, i would never (to the best of my ability) intentionally hurt my lover with words (perhaps I failed miserably in this...)

I remember sitting in the foyer of the fourth floor on 1 July 1997, and together with dad watched the handover of Hong Kong to back to China... A sad moment, dad said, and he expressed fears that our homeland might one day be forcibly taken by the Chinese. Hearing that filled me with indignation and fear, and dad's words perhaps sowed the seeds of my love for my birth county, and anti- (Communist) China sentiments.

As I walked, many more memories came back to me... Hikes we took together into the mountains... Getting up very early in the morning for a soak in the hot springs north of the city... Walks in the park, which then had only feeble looking twigs, but now a decade or so later is covered with tall trees... Visits to the book store, where we would lose ourselves for hours, sometimes until closing time (I would be in the comic book part or the English book section, mum in the travel section, dad reading some kind of novel or current affairs magazine...).

And then I noticed the name of the road dad used to live on. Jinshan South Road, named after the same town where he is now resting in peace... I never made that connection, not until today, not until tonight's walk down memory lane.

Slowing down

Walking slowly with mum in the rain, in silence, something crossed my mind...

I looked at mum from a few steps away, and noticed how frail mum has become, how much older and more fragile than I have ever since her before... Sometimes she closes her eyes, and I know because there is a shooting, sharp pain, most likely from her surgical wound. Sometimes she crumples her face in great, great discomfort, and I know it is because she really is hurting from just standing up and walking... I know mum is suffering, and yet I cannot do anything to help her...

Every step she takes seems to take great effort and strain. Every move so slow, so painstakingly slow. I know it frustrates her greatly, but she cannot fully express it. Her voice is too broken to say much, so much of the time we are silent nowadays. I know her current condition frustrates her greatly, for on occasion she lies in bed and tells me how much she wants it to be all over. Really over...

Being around mum, it is hard to stay positive, hard to keep on smiling and keep in being strong. I look at myself in the mirror and feel as if I have aged greatly over the past month, feel like my life, my youth, has been caught up in a relentless spiral that is pulling me back. How very selfish of me to think like that, I know, I know...

but part of me so much wants to hide... Hide far, far away, so I do not have to deal with all this... Hide in my sleep, so I do not have to feel... Hide in temporary moments of euphoric release and self-gratification, so I can drown out the pain... Anything else, anywhere else away from this place, this moment...

In calm I will find strength...
In myself, and from noone else, I must rediscover what it means to care, to be patient and to love...

Tensions

Mum was miserable again. Is it because of the pain she feels still from her surgery? The doctor said operations on the spine take the longest time to heal and are perhaps the most painful, for they have to "peel" back the muscles to get to the spinal column. I saw a picture of that before, when the young surgeon showed it to me on his iPhone...

Or perhaps mum is miserable and grumpy because of brother's presence? As much happiness and joy my nephew brings, it does not distract from the fact that my brother does nothing at all to help. I ask him to help with the dishes... "Later..." I ask him to massage mum a bit to prevent bed sores, and he looks at me as if that were the strangest request... Just this morning, as he tried to make powdered milk for my nephew, he noticed the hot water kettle was empty. Mum, despite her pain and discomfort from standing up and doing simple chores like washing up, had to haul the kettle with three litres of water in it from the kitchen to the living room...

Privately, mum grumbled to me about how little (or nothing at all...) my brother does. It bothers her greatly, makes so upset she was almost shouting, even though her voice was very weak and broken.

What am I supposed to say...? I know he's busy and he has a baby to take care of, but still he can do other things too,  No? I told him already the day to help out more around the house while he's around. I asked him why I have to do much of the housework (my sister-in-law helps out) while he's not around, and even when he's around. What difference does it make him being here if that's the case? He didn't say anything.

She is his mother, just as much as she is his mother... Do I not deserve some time to myself or a break from everything? I wanted to take some time off to retreat into the mountains for a day or two, but now I can't do that because brother will be gone for an entire week, again.

Have I not been doing enough and put all my own things and plans on hold to be here? Just a little help, just a few dishes, just to share the burden of caring and tending to mum's needs... Is that too much to ask?

Lunar new year's eve

Barely nine in the evening, and mum is already in bed. Even at dinner, she looked uncomfortable and in pain. Earlier, she said she no longer wants to go down to visit relatives as planned. Most likely, I'll have to go refund the tickets in the morning, and will stay with her at home over the next few days. I had been so anticipating getting away from the city for a few days, and taking some time 'off' by going to the seclusion of the monastery. But if mum cannot leave home, I can't really go off on my own. She's too weak to be left alone at this stage. And with treatment planned in a few days' time, she really needs to eat well-- something I know she will not really do when I am not around.

Lunar new year's eve, but it does not feel like it at all. Where is that sense of excitement I used to feel as a child? Where is the magic of staying up late and chatting with mum and dad excitedly about the year gone by?

At dinner, I left an empty chair for dad to 'sit' in. I laid out a bowl and filled it with some rice and dishes I made (with help from my sister-in-law). I looked at the empty bowl and felt so sad... An empty bowl, right next to me... One day, there will be two empty bowls I will have to lay out.

Brother suddenly got up from dinner at one point, and picked up two red envelops. One for mum, one for me. I was touched, for it was the first time he gave me a red envelop (a tradition), and it reminded me that I had completely forgotten to prepare one for my little nephew (just shows how scattered and down I have become these days...). So quickly I went into the bedroom, and got a spare red envelop, and took out some of the money brother just handed me and gave the envelop to my nephew.

To everyone's surprise, his little fingers grabbed at the red envelop. He clutched it tightly, and moved it close to his mouth to suck on. Perhaps it's just a reaction he has to everything that is placed in front of his face, but that made us all laugh.

And for a few moments, laughter brought us all back to the spirit of lunar new year celebrations, to the (more) carefree days when this time of the year is filled with magic and surprises, excitement and a sense of longing for newer, brighter days.

Daddy 阿爸

 14.21hrs, Lunar New Year's Eve. 

You passed away in my arms, quietly, quietly...
But memories of your smile, of your smile, the warmth of your touch have not faded away.
They probably never will.

 I held onto your hand as you quietly, quietly left this world in peace...
Did I ever disappoint you, dad?
Do I disappoint you you now, perhaps?

Dad, I miss you...

Miss you so very, very much.