One year on (II)

I spent the day helping a friend and his family move. I was so happy to do it, so happy to be surrounded by people, to be kept busy, to be useful, not to be sad or pensive. I went to his old place around 11. I got home at well past 1 in the morning. 

It was exhausting, but I did not feel tired. There was so much, so much stuff, in boxes, in black bin bags, pieces of furniture, shelves, suitcases and backpacks. So much stuff. But we managed to do it. My friend and his mother kept on thanking me, praising how much I helped them with the move. Deep down, I thanked them for making me feel useful, for keeping me company on a most difficult day.

People may question why I am again, for the third time in a month making things difficult for myself. The first, mum's death according to the lunar calendar, the second, mum's death on the "actual" calendar. The third sad day, her funeral cremation. What a month it was last year. What a painful and traumatic year...

Well, perhaps I never really had the time or right moment to feel sad, to really appreciate or digest what happened a year ago. I lost my dear mother, and soon after sowed the seeds of losing my dearest friend and companion. It was a difficult time. But I just braved it all. Braved it all and didn't think it would break me, didn't think I would be bothered at all.

I don't think I really ever wrote about the day of mum's funeral and cremation. It was too much to write about.  Even today, it is too much to write about. All I can recall are flashbacks. Of people crying... my aunts, uncles, my ex, my brother and his wife... everyone crying. I stayed dry, stoic as ever. I could not, did not, cry, as much as I wanted or needed to. I can recall the slideshow with pictures from different stages of mum's life. How I smiled at those pictures, even though people became emotional seeing mum as the way she was. I want to remember the way she was, long before the cancer ravaged her body, long before hunger, starvation, thinned her to just bone and skin, long before jaundice, bloating and death took over...  I can recall a little speech I made in front of everyone, thanking people for their presence, and then turning to mum to tell her to "go.." Go travel, like she always enjoyed doing, go to Holland, go to Canada, go to the monastery in Puli (Taiwan) where she found such joy and peace... I remember telling her we will be alright...

I can recall accompanying her coffin to the crematorium. I can recall my prayers as I bid my final farewell. I can recall watching her remains being scraped and brushed into the marble urn I had chosen for her. I can recall more tears from relatives, my ex... I can recall sleeping at night and tearing. Did anyone notice? Did anyone care to notice? I can recall shivering and waking up in the middle of the night a few nights later and feeling this deep, deep unfillable void. That would be the first of many nights I would wake up since then till now... sometimes crying, sometimes shuddering like a madman, sometimes sweating from fear...

One year on. I can recall so many images, so many memories, so many things that were said and done... I can recall the tears on people's faces, the smiles and laughter I had when my ex visited and accompanied me through at the end of a tough, tough journey...At the same time, it all feels like ages ago... How many times have I cried since? How many times have I broken down? How many times have people told me to "Get over it!" and move on and hurt me so with their callous words and complete misunderstanding of what it means to lose someone, what it means to grieve loss? How many times  have I swallowed my tears and shed them only when and where nobody sees them? How many times have to told myself I deserve to be loved, I deserve so much more and failed to believe it?

One year on. My friend's mum asked me why I smile so much... why I am so patient and how I can remain so calm after all I have experienced. Because I am trying. Smiling because smiling and joking around and laughing at silly things makes me feel lighter. Smiling because when I am alone by myself, it is harder to smile. I am trying. Trying to be patient and just ride out the rough spell of grief and volatile emotions... Trying to be calm because I know, I have seen, what it really means and is like to lose all control of everything... I am trying.
Trying so very hard to find balance again. Trying so very hard to live up to the promises I made to my parents, to myself, that I will stand up again. I have been trying and struggling to find a "new normal" despite this very deep sense of isolation and loneliness I feel I find myself in ("Nobody likes someone who's unhappy" as I've been very bluntly told by a friend... As if I choose to be unhappy. As if I choose to mourn, because it is so much fun...).

I am trying. Through ceremonies, through commemorations, through two days of charity bike riding, through a three week venture to the Middle Land... All these attempts to be "better", to be alive again after death, to find myself and someone who can see through all that I have had to face, who can see through that hard shell and defensiveness and still see beauty inside. I AM TRYING... One year on. I am trying. And I will be trying even more still.