Landing

The hall filled with the sound of sobbing of the girl. She was in her late teens, perhaps early twenties, and not in control of her emotions. A little boy, most likely her younger brother went up to her at the immigration desk. They hugged. The girl sobbed even more as she buried her face in the boy's shoulder.

The border agent directly opposite me (who later would be the first official to welcome to Canada) watched with a sweet smile and quite bemusement. The parents sat on the bench next to me. It was a family of south Asian origin. Next to them, laden on three carts that look like they were about to tip over from the weight, were old fashioned leather suitcases and an assortment of bags of all shapes and sizes. How do you pack u a life, or indeed a lives of ap family members, and replant your roots in a foreign country? The girl's little sister was dressed in a colourful

I watched the scene and was deeply moved to tears.

Approaching Yul

221113.1331

Plane is descending slowly. Overcast skies, 4C. 22 November 2013. The day I land in Canada (pending approval by the border agent...). 

I do not know how to describe my Feelings at this very moment. The other that, while I was packing to go on this trip, I picked up mum and dad's picture. I felt this pain. I have dreamed of this day, the day I can bring my mum here and for her to live the rest of her life in relative peace and beauty. It was something I wanted, the real reason why I rented a two bedroom apartment. But she has gone already. Just me now, only me landing by myself.

At the same time, there is this joy. Two years of waiting and finally it is going to happen. finally, I get the official endorsement that I belong, that I am welcome.

IAD

At Dulles Airport, Washington DC. I slept the entire way from Miami. Exhausted, as  only managed to sleep four hours or so last night. Woke up at the moment I descended third floor of the motel To the parking lot, the shuttle bus pulled in. Perfect timing.  

It was pouring, pouring with rain. The Kind of downpour I've seen in typhoons (or hurricanes, as this was Florida...) The driver, a seasoned trucker of over twenty years drove and chatted. Whether any of the passengers were listening is another story, but he seemed keen to tell his. Even at five in the morning. 

Check-in and the flight was uneventful. I sat and walked around. I went to the bookstore and bought two books. it's been while since I read something, and I mean a physical book. One was on happiness, how to reach and live a happier and more appreciative life in a year. The blurb appealed me to greatly. A lawyer, who once clerked for a US supreme court justice sat in the bus and realised her life is passing her by and that she wants to be a writer. she has all she could ever want: living relationship, two children, a great home, but she's not happy... Do I have all I want? maybe not. but still I am not content and yearn for so much. Is it due to the general temperament of depression brought on by loss and grief? Is it my defence mechanism to shut down emotions and feelings activated by the years of abuse? Or is it something more fundamental? I have been accused (wrongly or rightly...) Of not being appreciative enough, of showing so little emotion in the face of joyous events. It pains me to hear that. because I do not and did not ever choose to be underwhelmed or unappreciative of life and all around me. 

The second book, by acclaimed author Mitch Albom who wrote Tuesdays with Morrie, seems go be a grilling tale about loss and finding life again. I love his simple yet profound style of writing and use of words. And the first twenty pages moved me almost yo tears already.  What if one day you receive a call from heaven and it's your mother, lover, cchild valling to  dat everything is alright? Is that bot the ultimate closure? Is that not the closest one will ever get to the lost lived ones after the final goodbye? Is that not a sure sign to you  that it is alright to move on, it is alright and you should not be afraid or guilty to smile, to laugh, to live again?  

And I did need the ability to be happy, to laugh and smile again... A whole new beginning awaits me. 

In Canada.

Paddling at John Peenekamp

At a local artists' fair once, some three years back, I bought three little canoes... Two had two people inside, something I thought was very symbolic of two Leopold paddling in the river of life together. I sent one to my brother and sister-in-law, who in the September of 2010, became engaged and would wed in January. The other one, I gave to my ex, as a symbol of our relationship, and with the strong and beautiful hope that we too would paddle through life together, paddle through thick and thin, through difficulties and happiness... It was a gift to remind him of how beautiful we are, and what potential we have together..

I bought three, and the last canoe was a solo kayak. A gift to myself, from myself. Whatever happens in life, are we not alone at the end of the day? Do we not go through much of life alone, unable to fully share our thoughts abd experiences? However strong and beautiful any relationship, it must fade and die. and so it is with all things in life, as the principles of Buddhism teach us. Did I buy that gift for myself, from myself as a potent reminder of this life lesson ?

I'm not sure. but today, as I paddled solo in my kayak I certainly felt it. I alone chose and charted my course, I alone controlled the speed and direction (though at times challenged and almost overturned due to hidden (or perhaps deliberate?) mangrove roots and branches. I got lost at times, a little frightened even as these waters were known for sightings of crocs (not the plastic sandals...). 

But when you just stop moving, when you lut down the paddle and let yourself drift, just drift with the waves, everything becomes so still, and you are one with it all...

I was afraid I would not make it, for my arms were sore and I was perpetually afraid of tipping over and ruining everyithing (most worried, very materalistic of me... Of my new HTC one phone...). And the heat, even though it was afternoon, was searing and the air was so humid.

But I paddled and paddled, followed the buoys and signs in the water, and navigated the little streams that eventually opened up to open water. Seabirds, floating like pleasure boats, greeted me. The horizon was so vast, and the waves become an choppy, making the kayak produce sucking sounds with every up and down motion. I sat still for s while, admired the blue sky and open sea, admired the rocks that have for eons had the furor and gentleness of the sea and wind slap and soothe its faces...

This is life... Steady on... You are on your own, paddling through the unknown and chartering unvisited territory every single day.

Same gate

I walked toward my gate, and as I approached, my heart and memories raced. It's the same gate as the one I left from on that fateful day on 27 December 2011... The trip to end all trips, the trip that began Operation Eternal Happiness and foreshadowed the long lingering period of pain, loss and emptiness that I still feel to this day.

I remember that morning, just before boarding I recordeded a video message. It was just  I spoke to mum. she had been taken to the hospital hours before. She was being prepped for surgery. She sounded weak.  I was afraid I won't see or speak to her again the next time I can communicate, which would be in over 20hrs or so...

The rest, the nights at the hospital, the surgery, the recovery, the vomiting, relapse, vomiting and jaundice, the thinning to bone and skin, the decision to put her on morphine drips, the passing... The rest became history. history. History i and I alone seem to be unable to shake away. History that I can only now quietly recall because in all honesty, who else cares? Who else still remembers or cares to remember? 

I walked quickly through the gate, left behind the airport hall where I once recorded a message, almost two years ago. The beginning of the end, the beginning of the beginning of the state of affairs and my mind today. Muddled, tired, empty and feeling so very Isolated and lonely... 

Who would have known leaving canada that day two years or so back I would return here to nothing, to no one? Much my own doing perhaps...? Who would have thought when I left that time, I was surrounded by friends the night before, and now... where are they all now? 

I boarded the plane and found my seat. Window, as usual. I looked out the window, the plane began to roll back. 

Leave it all behind now.

Quietly leave all this, all this and all these people behind now. 

I have a new life, a new uncharted path before me. I have the chance to begin afresh, to sweep away all that is shallow and unreal and temporary and an opportunity to start something more permanent and settled.

Farewell history, farewell sadness.

Same gate...

I walked toward my gate, and as I approached, my heart and memories raced. It's the same gate as the one I left from on that fateful day on 27 December 2011... The trip to end all trips, the trip that began Operation Eternal Happiness and foreshadowed the long lingering period of pain, loss and emptiness that I still feel to this day.

I remember that morning, just before boarding I recordeded a video message

Historic trip

 

I was packing my bags last night, and the heavier my little carry on luggage became, the heavier my emotions felt. It's just a little trip of a few days, which will go by so fast before I realise I'll be back home again. But it's the significance of the return, for I will be returning as a permanent resident. 

Five years (or so if you count the days I was away --- and there are many, many months) in Canada, and finally I received my permanent residence status. Nothing really changes, except my official status here, and to be honest my return may not be all that dramatic given the fact I'm not arriving in the country for the first time, but returning to a place I've more or less been calling home for the past five years.  My address has only changed once since I arrived in Canada, and it was literally to another address around the corner. 

I took two favourite items of clothing with me... a red Canada hoodie, and a tshirt with "Love" on the front, the same one that I wore on the day mum passed, and on the day of her funeral. I wanted to take an animal with me, but since the loss of my favourite bear, the one my mum gave me (still missing, and I know now forever gone...), there's really no other animal that is so special. Until I found a little "rainbow bear", one that I bought for myself three or four years back when I was back home in Taiwan. "Rainbow Bear" is special, I guess, because just before my nephew was born, mum bought two large towels with the character, and one she gave me. I still have it, drapped over my arm chair in my bedroom. It's been there since last year when I returned to Canada...

I took with me also a picture of mum and dad, with mum holding onto dad's arm... It will be very significant, very meaningful when I return in a few days' time and have my parents with me as I enter Canada...

crazy...

I began shouting, crying, banging my head on the wall. I had become mad, insane with anger and frustration. The person just stood there and watched, did nothing, said nothing. Just watched as, me, the  madman, go mad and bang his head incessantly. Before he would come grab me, hold me, comfort me. Now he just watches, shakes his head and smirks...

"Nobody understands! Nobody knows what it means to loose your loved ones one by one!" I screamed and was foaming. I sense of desperation was beyond words, the intensity of feeling so abandoned was too much for words. You know what is worst then feeling like nobody cares? When you  try to tell somebody about how you are feeling and the person shuts you up or diverts the conversation away.... when the person says to you "Is this the same feeling as before or something new?" as if your feelings are not worth recognising because he has heard it again and again...

I banged my head till I was faint, cried out for help and attention till I was coarse. And then I just collapsed.

Too much... too much. I cannot take it any more.

.