There was a time when I could just grab the phone and call someone, and someone would be there to listen, to care, to show me affection and remind me of a reason to continue.

There was a time when whenever I was crying I could just call out someone's name, could just cry and cry and someone would come through that door...

But that time is now gone. 

Times have moved on. 

People have moved on.

In with the new, out with the old.

I'm old news, my feelings and pain are old news. 

And I am here, lying around in bed, clinging onto my own body and desperately  hoping someone would care, someone would see my tears and understand how and why I still hurt deep inside. 

Missing mum...

The pain is unbearable, it really is...

I just woke up suddenly after a series of dream with mum in them. Mum is still alive in the dreams, and I was on my own, separated from her and crying by myself, crying out to be with her... The wail I made, the loud and hurtful sound I made was heart wrenching.

I woke up sobbing again, sobbing again because for the n-th time this month, this year, I could only dream of someone I cannot touch, cannot feel yet who meant so much, so much to me...

I can only cry. Cry... Cry. Mum is gone. No journey I can take will bring me to her. No amount of tears I cry can bring her back. No amount of longing, no amount of agitation and pain will allow me to see her again... 

My eyes are so drenched and so tired... 

Ca marche 2013

La petite mangue

Amok fish 

The silence instilled so much in the air and in my heart. I looked around the hundreds of people gathered this early morning on a Sunday. We all got out of bed and  turned out to show our support and solidarity in the fight against HIV/AIDS. 

It's the third (or fourth?) walk I've taken part in. The first was weeks after I first arrived in Canada. I saw an ad on the metro, and made a point to join. It was moving, as it is today, five years on. It's become an annual ritual for me to remember those millions who struggle every day to maintain their lives, or even to just get their hands on precious medicine to slow the onslaught of the terrible illness.

Ça Marche was initiated some twenty years ago by this local businessman who was diagnosed with AIDS in 1992. He died a year later. However, his family, and mainly his mother, has been continuing this event for the past 21 years. Today, even at 88 years old, she still stood on stage and spoke with so much determination and hope that the money raised will help towards finding a cure, or at least bettering the lives of so many around the world. 

I looked around, and so many families, children, men, heteros, homos, of all backgrounds and races all gathered here today. In the distance a children's choir sang a moving song in French about hope, giving and caring for others. 

My little teddy bear walked with me, and on his chest a little red ribbon in solidarity. 

In memory of those who have passed away...