I opened the box. There was mum's hand bag, the one that dad gave to mum once. It's a Prada shoulder bag, and mum suspects dad found it somewhere some six or seven years ago. She refused to use it for a while, but stillage kept it. And then one day, after dad passed, she took it out of the closet and showed it to me. She said even though she's angry at dad at times, she still cares about him deeply. Mum used that small shoulder bag with the thin straps for several years. She had it with her when she went to the hospital. She used (in a sense...) till she left this world.
Those memories flooded my mind as soon as I saw the shoulder bag immediately after lifting the flaps of the cardboard moving box I dug deeper, in search of the hifi system that was hidden in the belly of the box. The outside of the box said the stereo was inside. There was also a small Japanese kimono doll. My old navy blue track pants. A black shirt I have had for over five years (and which I forgot about...). There was also a framed certificate belonging to dad. Only after shifting through so many objects, so many memories, did I manage to find the stereo system. The one I bought mum this time last year to give her some form of entertainment while she is lying in bed in her room. There was a point when I knew she would be in bed for some time, perhaps for the rest of her life, however long that would be. Indeed the stereo system came in handy and have mum hours of listening pleasure...
I remember I got the stereo and set it up in time for come home from the hospital back in May last year. She was upset because I went out and spent money again, even thought to me it was money well spent if the money could give her a few moments of peace and calm and escape from her physical pain. She saw the stereo and complained, as expected, and said when she goes, I have to take the stereo with me. I asked her once, one day during my one month sojourn back in Canada during May-June 2012, whether she enjoys the music. She said she did, and that was enough to make it all worthwhile.
The stereo now sits in my living room. A year later, her words came true. Now she has gone, the stereo is with me.
That was just one box I opened. I opened another one, one with "Buddha statue" written on the front of the box. In a sense, it was another object "on loan" from me to mum, for the statue was given to me by the monk in the mountains. I said almost as soon as I received it that I was going to leave it to mum, for she needed it more than me. I remember having to insist, and mum only accepted it when I promised I'd take the statue with me when she is no longer around...
And now the statue stands in my living room as well, a hand of which snapped off during the long overseas trek...
12 more boxes remain unopened. And I do not have the strength, the necessary strength to open them by myself...
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