Happy new year

.Happy new year...

You wouldn't think it's a new year unless you look at the date and the clock, unless you open the window and hear the sound of fireworks crackling and people rejoicing. For most, the first day of the new year has already come, for some they are still in the old year and expectantly awaiting the dawn of a  new time.

May it be a peaceful, and truly happy one for one and all around the world. .

Birth of a new year

Just spoke to my brother and sister-in-law, it's been a longest time, and it was really pleasant.

As we were talking, my brother sent me a picture captioned "new family member".
I opened the file, and it was a sonogram, with clearly a figure of a baby.
12 weeks already.

I was surprised, but also a little cautious. The first few months are always precarious, and my sister-in-law described how this time around it's been more painful, and she experienced an episode of bleeding (but this was after she was lifting things and handling my nephew). I told her she must be very careful and told my brother, who stood behind her, to be more caring and help  out more (he jokingly patted her on the head!)

I'm really happy for her, for them. They've been wanting to have a second child for some time now, and now their wish is coming true. My parents would be overjoyed. I  pray that they will protect the mother and child and that the next few months will be safe and well. Being pregnant, giving birth and the first few months and years are all very fragile. I really hope things will turn out well, and that at the end of July in the coming year, my brother's family, my family, can welcome a healthy newborn.

Nobody, except me and perhaps some colleagues of my brother, know the news. Not even my sister-in-law's parents. I'm privileged to be one of the first to know this. May they be well and happy.

Grief does not...

"Grief does not change you... It reveals you".

(John Green, The fault in our stars) 

Last days of 2014

It's amazing how much I can sleep, and how much sleeping I've done in the past week or so. It's as if I could just sleep and not do anything except sleep. I don't even feel hungry at times. It doesn't help that I caught a cold a few days back, which left me and my body aching and just feeling extremely weakened. But am I, fundammentally, really so tired, or is it because of the accumulated lack of sleep over the past few months? Or is it just another bout creeping depression, refusal to get up and face the world, refusal to wake up and feel that anxiety of being alone most of the time? Even in my sleep, I dream of family, dream of seeing mum and dad... 

December is almost over, in a way thank goodness. No more cheesy music on the radio, no more decorations and festive lights in the streets and stores. This holidays reason went by without me noticing much. I just stopped caring, like Mr Scrooge. Except perhaps Earlier in the month, a friend and I bought some toys with the intention to give them away to charities (I began doing this three years ago, when I first visited ikea around this time of the year and saw they have this annual soft animal drive... Every toy bought is a dollar donated to UNICEF). (But it didn't go as planned... I had trouble finding places I could donate toys to, and in the end put the animals in a donation box... So much for plans and having good intentions). The only festive thing I did was get together with some people for a dinner on Christmas Eve (traditional roasted turkey and all...). It was pleasant, and we ended up watching YouTube videos and reliving songs and artists from our youth, which was amusing and nostalgic.

I haven't heard from my brother or his family for over a month. Just makes me think again if something were to happen to me, when would they find out? I'd probably be injured (or dead) for some time before they find out... Which is part of the reason why last month my cousin called me suddenly just after she lost an uncle to a sudden illness. She said she immediately thought of me... What would happen if something were to happen to me? Who would find out? Who would tell whom? It's what happens when you live so isolated from people and don't feel close to anyone any more... 

I can't really live like this, I need some kind change, need to infuse my life with that sense of awe and wonder I used to have, that sense of magic that made people feel like I'm "special". Now I'm just a faded and self absorbed star, one of countless many out there. Change comes from within, I know... But I so wish there were someone close who could encourage me, help me and gently push me forward. It's hard and a constant struggle to have to "fight" just to get up, just to go about the day like a "normal" person. If you've lost someone, if you've lost people, you'd know exactly what I mean and how much true and loving relationships mean. 

So I leave home and head to Toronto. First step to making a change. I'm not sure what I'll be doing there, but after a week cooped up at home I feel I need a change of scenery and need to get out of my comfort (depressed) Zone. I have this vague idea of wanting to buy a property somewhere, this thinking that I should live up to the promise I made to make a home for myself with all that my parents left me. I know I've been thinking about it for years now, been trying to find a place to buy, but nothing much came of anything. The property market just seems too inflated in Montreal, and I just don't see a future in that city (neither so my local friends...) Toronto seems to be the better bet, but I don't really know the city all that well. Lucky that a friend is leaving the city for a bit and ha kindly offered his apartment for me to stay in while he's away. That should give me a nice base and foundation to start looking around and get to know the city better... 

So this trip may be the first concrete step to moving away from Montreal and establishing myself somewhere else. A change is due, long overdue... Living in the same place, same city where all the events of the past few years took place cannot be healthy, and may be a reason why I'm often pulled down and struggle with depression. There are just too many ghosts and memories that I still struggle with and am reminded of (the house is a mess, a real mess, largely because I just don't have the energy to clear up and deal with all these things, pictures, letters, memorabilia all lying around the house...) 

Almost there. 

The deed is done.

Let life do its work.

Home bound

On the flight home, it's been a long ten hours or so since I departed Kona, and finally on the final leg of the journey back to Montreal. 

I love the exhilaration of flying, of looking of the window at the airport and seeing all these planes... The calm and quiet of the blueness of the sky an clouds and the world, as much as you can see of it, outside the window. And having taught a course on the airline business , I feel even more enlightened when I see planes, the time board displaying all those connections,  cancellations and delays. And a part of me felt pity for the pilot who sat crammed in the middle seat at the back of the plane and told a fellow passenger that he still has three sectors to fly for the day. 

It's been a relaxing trip, with some biking and exploring place I've wanted to visit for some time, and now I have. I feel like ill be back there soon. There is still so much to see and explore, and the Buddhist monastery I stayed at was simply charming and welcoming. And I made a big decision there too, about my future and life. Who knows what will transpire in half a year from now...? Who knows what I will be doing this time next year?

I began reading that famous book turned into a movie, about young love between two teenage cancer patients. Beautiful an quirky, well written and engaging. The girl describes herself as a grenade waiting to explore, and everyone around her will be wounded by shrapnel the day she does (die). She tries her not to fall in love or let others fall in love with her. But how is that possible? 

Reading this again brings me back to memories of hospitals and treatments and consultations with doctors. I don't think it's unhealthy to read these kind of books, or to have a bunch of DVDs I call the "cancer collection" (though some people may think otherwise...). In being touched and reminded again of what cancer patients go through, and what I went through as part of the side effects of cancer, I feel I can feel again and better heal. It may be hard for people to imagine, deep down I still hurt, deep down I still feel this emptiness I cannot describe. These feelings are made worse by the fact that there is nobody who is willing to listen , nobody I know around me who is prepared to understand. People are just too occupied with trying to say something, even if that something sounds or is received as being so awful and hurtful. At the end of the day, I just stop talking, stop sharing , and have nothing to say anymore. That is when you know that the friendship has really died. 

I look forward to connecting more with this friend who went through extremely similar circumstances and experiences . 

In hawai'i

The view of the ocean from the outlook point is spectacular. Lush green hill coasting the seashore, turquoise waves crashing against rough, jagged brown cliff edges. In the distance , covering the hills was a shroud of fog. Or perhaps vog, a mixture of fog and volcanic ash that often blankets this part of the Big Island. The volcano cannot be seen, and I doubt I will have the fortune to see it this time around, but Mauna Lea is out there, is alive and bleeding lava through pores of the face of the Earth. This island is alive, no wonder the original inhabitants of this land have such strong connections with the land and nature. For millennia they have lived at the mercy of the volcano's fiery breath, and have had to fled the bleeding lava that oozes out of the wounds of the Earth and shows no remorse to consume and destroy everything in its path.

Day five of my stay on Hawai'i (the island). What a charming and diverse land. The first few days were spent on the west coast, in a barren landscape "freshly" created from lava (still dozens if not millennia old...) The landscape is extremely dry and much devoid of life. Jagged lava rocks strewn over the land as far as the eyes can see, with mount Mauna Kea, the highest mountain in the world, if you count from the ocean bed, ever looming in the background. 

The land is pretty much barren, like the lunar or Martian landscape. In fact, NASA took their lunar rovers here to train before launching tem to the Moon, and more recently for the Pathfinder mission, they shipped rocks from this region of Hawai'i to simulate the Martian landscape. But in an enclave called Waikoloa Beach, developers have somehow managed to create a green oasis filled with high end hotels and malls, lush greens and tree lined avenues and artificial lakes and waterfalls. This in an area that see very little rain every year. 

I biked around a bit, the searing heat and gradual incline making it (literally) an uphill struggle and battle for my lungs. I haven't exercised on ages, the last time I went on a long bike ride was in the summer. But perseverance, constant hydration, and the "mission" to go to the local post office some 6 miles away, pushed me onward. Even before arriving in Hawaii , I had planned to see the monk I frequent in Taiwan some goodies from his birthplace as a lovely gift for the holidays and pleasant surprise. In the end, having battled sweat and exhaustion (a good thing, as my body is in dire need of a good detox and sweating after all those sleepless nights I pulled over the past few months), I managed to buy bags of dried fruits, coffee and macadamia nuts and paper leis and package it all nicely into a box and sent it on its way. A lady in the parking lot saw me pack all those goodies and laughed, saying "You did a great job! Someone will be very happy!" 

On one of the days, I booked myself onto a tour. I was told earlier that this particular tour would be all booked out. But luckily, by chance, I came across a company (THE company, as recommended by my taxi driver from the way to the hotel from the airport) still had a seat available on one of the nights I was in town. So off to Mauna Kea I went.

Yes, the mountain crowned with the highest astronomy telescopes in the world. I was excited, as I have come across many pictures of the stunning sunset from the top of the mountain. And the real thing was breathtaking ( partly also because it was over 4000m in elevation...!) The mountain seemed to be the roof of the world, a sacred site of the Hawaiians. A dozen or so observatories were built there, through the cooperation of a host of nations (including Taiwan!) The domes of the observatories listened in the dusk light, golden at first, then turning into orange as the sun descended slowly to eventually be consumed the horizon. The world changed colours from moment to moment, a dazzling, spectacular and mesmerising display of splashes of reds and oranges and violet with a shroud of dark grey and black gradually clouding over the entire sky canvas. I stood there dazed and silent, unaware and lost in the beauty of nature, the most creative and touching painter of them all...

With the sun set, stars slowly emerged to twinkle and play. Pale and faint at first, with the deepening darkness and my adjusted eyes, there appeared more and more. The guide set up a telescope, and a hot chocolate and brownie stand, and we all gathered to listen to him talk about amaze us with weird and wonderful facts about the universe. The nearest star is larger than the distance from the Sun to Earth... The blob of light out there is a cluster of galaxies, each containing billions of stars like our own Sun... Wonderful stories of how the Greeks came to name and place the astrological signs an constellations... It was eye-opening, and made me wonder why I never got into looking at stars or knowing how to read the heavens... Perhaps because I always loved in a big city, but even so the skies never ceased to fascinate me. 

I sat on the bus next to a lady in her late forties (I presume...) who is on her "sabbatical" year. Taking time out to travel an figure out what she wants to do next... She taught at a university in Wisconsin ( of all things Chinese  politics, great conversations with her!) , and a few years ago began pursuing a doctorate degree. But for a variety of reasons she never completed it. "It's not for everyone," she said. Is it for me, I wondered. 

So she is as lost and trying to find a way, much like I am, and she is older and more experienced than me. After the magical sunset and star-gazing, we proceeded to head back. In the bus,  we fell silent, and then at one point I said to her "Look how small we are compared to it all, and we are so consumed by our own problems. And we're trying to find our place and reason for existence in the universe..." How true. How true.

Fast forward two days, and here I am sitting in a guest house surrounded by the echoes and singsong of crickets and frogs in the middle of the forest. I could have been in a big city, elsewhere, in fact I arranged to stay three nights in the capital of the island called Hilo. But I cancelled it all at the last minute as soon as I arrived by plane and while I was transiting in Honolulu. The night before, I called the monk in tAiwan and told him of my plans to come to Hawaii. "There's a Tibetan monastery in Pahala!" He said, talking about the town he was born in. 

I was excited as soon as I heard monastery. I had planned a trip for this time to go meditate in Thailand, but I was /am simply much too tired to go all the way and spend three weeks wandering around, so instead opted for somewhere "closer" and a shorter stay. And the opportunity to visit and stay at a monastery was simply too good to pass. At least for me... I know most people my age wonder (and have even asked me expressly...) why I put myself through boredom and doing nothing by going to spend time at a monastery. 

But the stillness, the "just being", the joy I feel and feelings of being touched deep down inside, those are the reasons why I enjoy retreats so much. Listening to the sounds of nature, falling asleep under the cover of complete darkness, and living in a community of people with like minded thoughts and radiating kindness and compassion... Is there anything better than this in the world out there?

The resident monk is an old yet kind, kind Tibetan who speaks broken English. Yet his smile and kindness needs no explanation. I have had the fortune of meditating with him (only been two days....) , whereby he would chant Tibetan prayers and sutras and I would sit and follow in a book. It is a very different tradition compared to the Thai tradition I am used to. But still, Buddhism is largely the same the world over... Compassion, understanding, kindness, ceasing suffering and pain... Who do not want these things? Everyone. Who goes out in the world seeking these things? Most people do, because they know not better. 

I sat there with my eyes closed and was again renewed with great spiritual lift and vigour... At various points I felt so moved, close to tears even... My mind drifted to the trips I have made, particularly the trip. Made to India two years ago (as I was narrating it to the monk over breakfast). My mind drifted to mum's image and the warm feel of her presence (now, absence...), to dad's face and to his kindness... Yes I miss my parents still, I miss them dearly. Somehow the chanting by the old monk and the indecipherable Tibetan words hit a raw chord and brought out this strange mixture of joy, liberation, sadness and longing. Blended together like a nectar of bitter-sweetness , making me ache yet at the same time long for more. 

If only  I could keep this up this practice when I get home! If only I could always remember how beneficial and mode I am when I sit and meditate... Never too late...! And as I bid farewell to the monk earlier, as I am leaving very early in the morning to catch the last bus of the day...) the monk turned to me And said "Keep the practice! You are a good man..."

I left the monastery uplifted and feeling rejuvenated. I may be made fun of and seen as strange to go an meditate on my holidays, but if it helps me, if it is something I enjoy more than lying on a beach and doing very little all day, why does it matter? Sometimes you just need to the time alone and time to disconnect from everything and everyone because life and people do weigh you down. 

The bus ride through the hills and one side the view of the sea  was spectacularly open and inspiring. There is so much beauty in the world, so much to be enjoyed and cherished. If only we knew how and did that every single day. 

Tara tature

End of the class

hey applauded, actually applauded. I stood there with a broad smile and saw smiles of appreciation and interest reflected back, and I was touched. One or two even stood up as they applauded. I felt awkward, not the first time I felt awkward in front of the classroom, but this time I felt awkward even though I knew all that hard work, the dedication and time I put into preparing for this course paid off. Paid off in their smiles, in their intriguing questions, paid off in the ways many of them approached me at the end of every class to thank you for the wonderful and thought provoking way the course has been designed and taught. Or perhaps they were just especially glad because there were juices, fudge brownies, croissants and pains au chocolat to be enjoyed in the very last class. 

It has been a long, and exhausting three months. And I imagine this must be how it is to be a first time lecturer. I remember still how I dreaded the first class, and for the past three months my weekends were basically extended working days. I would stay up till four or five the day before a lecture and be preparing power point slides and flipping through the text book for information and all I can find on a particular topic. It was intense, extremely intense, but at the end of the day, when I see students engage in the materials and present on a topic of their choice and when I see how interested and that "spark" in their eyes, it is all worth it. 

Over the past day or so, I've received emails congratulating me on a job well done, touching messages that soothe the amount of work and sleepless nights I've put into preparing the course. It was all worth, it definitely was all worth it. ("...so graceful, respectful and learned an instructor", was one email).

After class, as I cleared up the room and packed up the decorations, I looked back at the empty classroom. When will be the next time I have another opportunity to stand there, I wondered. And I thought of my parents... Were they there too? Were there at my side in those brief moments of glory, sharing my pride and listening to the applause echo in the room? Were they smiling too? I hope so. I so dearly hope so. 

In fact, on the very last slide, I acknowledged all the people who have helped me, and on the original slides, I put my parents on there (I removed it after someone said it was too personal... But I'll add it again and upload it to the online learning platform for students to download). I stood there and smiled at the students, grateful to them for giving me this opportunity to learn and to grow, and to be "better". As a colleague told me, I have become so much better and have a new found confidence that was not there in the immediate aftermath of losing mum... Yes, the past two years have been dull and grey, and this experience in teaching has allowed me to spark and shine again. A few times, while in front of the classroom, I would look at the back of the room and imagine mum and dad sitting there side by side and smiling back at me. How sweet, yet quietly bitter, that thought is! 

And what now...? 

 

I just finished a grueling few months of work and helped to publish two books, but nothing I can really call my work. I taught a course, and seemed to have inspired students to look into this field as a possible career option. But what about me? What is my career future? 

For some time I have been restless and wanted to move away from here. I just felt I've been staying here in this city for far too long. And I'm on my way to complete the equivalency exams to be eligible to take bar. Yet I so dread to go into legal practice. In fact, the more I hear people in legal practice talk about their work, and the more I see them change and become different people, the less I am inclined to go into that field. 

So what now then? I've had my taste of academic life, and been more or less in it for the past ten years. I've had my experience of teaching and research, despite not having produced much work of my own for some time, and I do generally enjoy this environment. Most of all I enjoy the freedom to come And go, to do things at my own pace and have no real boss or pressure behind me. 

But am I really willing to commit another three, four years of my life to study and to books and research? Do I really want this? 

Dream. Disappointing mum

I saw mum in my dream...

It was so beautiful seeing her again. we were going somewhere together, what a pleasant outing.

Then she suddenly turned against me, scolding me, telling me "you'll never amount to anything! What are you doin with your life?!"

I was hurt, and I talked back. "What about all those four years? What happened those four years of my life???" The years I spent traveling back and forth to be with her, to make her strong, to go through illness and death... I threw a tantrum and broke down there and then. And I saw mum's face was full of regret, full of guilt.

It pained her to shout back at her. But I was hurt. Have I not done enough? Am I not doing enough? Am I not breaking my back and hurting my health working night and day to achieve something, to produce a volume of the journal that's taking so long,  and to teach ?

I broke down.

Winter jacket

With the temperature dropping to below zero degrees and frost forming on rooftops in the morning, I got out a winter jacket, one that my brother bought me a couple of years ago. This was the jacket I wore first to brave the winter in Canada (until it was not warm enough for -30C temperatures...).

When I put it on, I heard a little tearing sound.

I opened it up and looked inside. I had forgotten about that episode, but the stitches reminded me of it.

At the seams were these threads that mum weaved and sewed. She noticed that the place between the arm and body of the jacket was torn one day when I was visiting her. She took it and before I left, she sat there and mended the tear... that brought a tear to my eyes. The jacket felt warmer and warmed by her touch.

Seeing that just now made me realise again how empty my life has been since she left. I do miss the phone calls, the chats on Skype, the visits (not so much to the hospital...), and the excitement of going to see her every few months. It's all stopped now. Nothing. Gone. History.

All that is left, beside the memories and her belongings sitting in a storage space I dread to enter (but must soon empty...), are little signs and moments like this that remind me of the dear motherly love that I lost and can never find again.

Why am I crying again...?

I should be much stronger.

I should be! I must be!

The other day, a college friend of mum's posted wooden clogs mum gave him once as a momento of Holland ,where we lived. Under that picture were the words "How we miss you so though you have departed..." Another college friend of hers, a caring auntie, commented and shared her own sadness and said she also had a pair of wooden clogs just like those.

Moments like this make me wish I could sleep and blink away that lingering pain.
How my heart wrenches and aches again now 

"Oh what I'd give for a hundred years..."

"Oh, what I'd give for a hundred years,

But the physical interferes,

Everyday more, my Creator.

Oh, what good is the strongest heart,

In a body that's falling apart...?"

The actress half lay on the floor, weakened and defeated. Illness has robbed her of her strength, her courage, her fame and glory. Death is lurking and stalking her, life is fading away. How Evita must have felt toward the end of her life? How powerfully it was captured in song and on stage by the performance of Andrew Lloyd Weber's musical, one of my all time favorites...

The musical was a delight, and something I'd looked forward to some time. In my late teens, I listened to it repeatedly (without realising the true meaning of "dressed up to the nines" or "at sixes and sevens"). One song in particular, "another suitcase, another hall" I felt poignantly described my life.... Always moving, never stable, my family spread across the world, my destiny so unclear and unknown... And for those many years when (first dad and later to a greater extent) mum was ill, my suitcase was always close by and half packed ready to go at an instant's notice. 

Seeing Evita succumb to (as I realised only this weekend) cancer brought back a lot of emotions and memories... For the couple of months, I have been so consumed with work i feel like I've not even had time to "feel". Being someone who is normally in tune with and driven by emotions, I began to feel uncaring and detached from life and the rest of the world. I feel so drained and so very unhappy, even though I was busy and making more money than usual. Soon after the show, in my friends apartment, I stared out the window at the night cityscape, and described how I feel... 

And I sobbed. The first time in a long, long time, even though often at night, when all's so quiet when the world is asleep, the feelings of emptiness and longing flood my heart and bring me close to bursting out in tears. As I told my friend, more and more mum and dad appear before me together, whereas before it was either one or the other. 

Is it so that after some time the dead just get lumped together? Is it true that after some time you just blur death and all those memories of illness and hospital visits together? I've tried hard not to think of and let my thoughts drift there... But seeing evita on the floor and lamenting her body succumbing to illness, I could not do anything else...

Those long nights, and difficult days at the hospital seem like an eternity away now. But I can still see it, smell it, feel it. It was overwhelming, traumatic and horribly painful to endure. And that was just for me, a bystander. How it must have been for dad, for mum! For my friends. For my uncle... For all these millions of cancer patients, and other sufferers of chronical and terminal illnesses, and their families. 

What kept me sane? What kept me alive? The belief of love that will heal me. The belief  that one day I will find someone who will truly heal me and pick me up and fill that void inside. A void that is still void. 

And now, two and a half years on since mum's passing, almost seven years since dad's passing, I am still standing, seemingly going strong. But at times I wonder what holds it all together. Because in moments of solitude, at night and in moment of silence, I can hear the darkness and painful memories echo, I can feel the void vibrate. 

There are moments after my lectures when I stand in the empty classroom and wonder whether my parents are there sitting in the back, smiling at me on the sofa in the back...

There are moments at work when I am so stressed and my eyes so tired that I think of my parents and just doing that would give me a burst of perseverance... Are they proud of me? Would they be proud of me and what I have become and done since they left this world? I sure hope so...

Dream

Second time this week, I dreamt of both my parents...

Somehow they were older, still coherent and "normal", but just older than I remmeber them. One scene, they we're getting out of the taxi in front of the home I grew up in, the one with a roof top garden, where we kept a dog named Hali. Brother was there too, and there werewolf a lot of suitcases everywhere. I was returning home from somewhere.

I helped them with their bags and went upstairs (five flights of stairs ...) Mum sat down on the sofa, dad retired to his room (where he stayed a while, but came out later as he couldn't sleep...). I saw myself taking care of them, holding them by the arms and comforting them. In doing so, I felt so comforted too...

They have been gone so long, and yet somehow I feel closer to them than anyone alive... How is that possible? Perhaps I just don't feel any connection and so distant toward people around me. I just don't make the effort any more to maintain or show that I care.

It happens, I was once told. You become mellow and tired, of things, of people... And you just want to be alone.

Can't sleep...

5am... Need to get up in three hours to get ready for another lecture. Over half way through the course, and it's enjoyable, yet extremely exhausting, especially with the other commitments and deadlines I have going on...

I lay in bed just now, and mum and dad's faces flashed before me. I guess I've been too busy , top occupied, too sleepless to think of them much. Would they be proud of me? Of all that I'm doing? Of all the reputation and name I seem to be making for myself?

But I'm sacrificing my health for work, sleep so little and pushing my body to the limit to get things done and be perfectionist... I don't dare tell friends, because too often I just get the slap in the face response "Everyone works hard! Everyone is busy!" It's disheartening, frustrating, makes me feel like I should just shut up and say nothing... What kind of friend tells you things to make you feel like you have n right to speak, no right to complain? What kind of friend makes you feel like you cannot voice anything, because everything is just interpreted as a complaint or thrown back at you?

But I can feel my head aching, and these rashes and spots spreading on my body that were not there before. I seem to get that when I sleep poorly or too little. I feel so unhealthy that I'm turning into this workaholic and don't do anything but work...

Back to mum and dad... I saw their faces, and again this emptiness filled my insides and I could not but suddenly shiver and shed a tear . Again, I feel the pain does not go away, but is simply hidden. And now nobody asks anymore... Nobody wants to hear about something that happened over two years ago.

People are tired of listening, or just inpatient... Or perhaps I need to find more people who is more patient and kinder with me who is willing to take the time to be with me and won't dismiss me when I try to express how I'm doing...

Home again

I never realised I would feel such a sudden sense of sadness at the moment of departure, but I did. Jacob looked so innocent (though s times he's far from it...). Moments earlier, he sat in the back of the car with me as brother drove me to the airport. He pretended to sleep, pretended to snore loudly, and I would then have a peek at me and burst out in laughter. Adorable, simply the cutest, and I felt sorry to leave him (even though at times he can be very difficult and whiny...). 

In many ways, he is like my brother, or at least I can see beginnings of being like my brother.... Bossy, demanding, wanting to be in control and tell everyone what to do. My sisterinlaw and I talked about this and joked how she has to pander to two people who are so alike...

It's been only two weeks having them around, and admittedly there were times  that were unbearable (like the condescending way my brother talks down to me and treats me, and the way that he tuts and shakes his head when I have a difference of opinion...) But at goodbye, I gave him a hug, and patted his arms  as I told him to take good care to take care of his health and body. Despite conflicts and difficulties between us, we are still siblings, and the loss of our parents and the birth of my nephew has certainly brought us closer together.

At one instance,when he opened his wallet to pick out his credit card. I saw inside a pocket, he had placed a picture of mum. He misses mum, I know he does, but I never realised how much (still?), and have just assumed my grief and pain is so personal and are not shared. Like dad before him, brother is not one to express his feelings or emotions. Perhaps they think that is being week, perhaps they believe some things are best unsaid and they'd prefer to suffer in silence... But seeing that picture of mum made me realise more brings us (my brother and me ) together than divides us, even more than the distance between us and the turbulent history behind us. 

I stepped into my apartment and in the laundry basket were the sheets and duvet covers that they used but have not been washed. In the washroom were their towels. In the spare  bedroom was the balloon I laid on the bed to welcome them to Canada, and the bag of Reeses pieces I bought as a welcome gift. 

My cat miauwed and welcomed me home as she lay lazily on the foldable sofa bed my brother slept on.

Home again. Home alone again...

Life update

Been a struggle being home alone since my brother and his family were here. For two weeks, you get so quickly used to the presence of others, to having breakfast together, to cooking together, to the constant laughter and sounds of banging made by my nephew. You get so used to all that... Suddenly, silence. 

Fortunately, a friend called me yesterday afternoon and asked if I wanted to go with him to spot planes next to the runway. I was reluctant at first, but was I glad I did in the end. Watching those powerful machines land and take off, land and tak off on their way from/to far flung lands filled me with joy.

My friend told me my parents would be so happy and so proud, so peaceful, knowing that my brother and his family came and knowing the lengths I went to make them feel welcome. Whatever tensions and feuds we had, there are bygones. Important are the memories we made together, and memories of seeing them so happy and seeing their eyes light up at the sight of the lakes, the mountains, the wilderness and bears. Important is that I bonded with my nephew and made him more part of my life, and that he made me more part of his life. 

I got home last night and started to work on articles that need to be finalised for publication. Two more weeks till it all has to be put together and printed, and yet one more article is missing. I've asked for it long ago, for i don't want a repeat of last years experience where I had to stay till close to midnight several days at the office just trying to finish off the work and meet the deadline... It drains me so. And I want to start early so I can control the time, especially given I've got a teaching assignment on the side now. 

Then I got messages from a friend I met some months ago. Distressed messages , pleas for help. The guy's been having tensions at home, and his parents want him out of the house. He doesn't have anywhere to go, and asked if I could him stay a while till he finds a place and gets back on his feet. 

I'm reluctant, but a friend in need is a friend indeed?

Return to Lake Louise

Seeing these mountains, reminds me the first time I saw them back in 2011. It was with mum, the trip of her lifetime perhaps...

There's a Crow crowing on the spruce tree behind me, and the mountains are reflected in the emerald waters of the lake before me. This is paradise, this is where mum sat on the lake shore and told me how peaceful she was, even though at the time she was occasionally, or perhaps constantly, tormented by the pain and suffering of her growing cancer. 

I saw it as a "mission" to bring her moments of peace and being able to forget. Forget that's she's in pain, forget that soon it will be the end of her life. I sought to make her remember, remember how life is so beautiful, how in the end everything is worth it and has much meaning. 

When she told me that she sat on the lakeshore and thought of nothing (there's even a picture of that... A hauntingly beautiful picture of her small figure against the backdrop of the beautiful lake and mountains...), I knew I had somewhat succeeded. 

Yesterday, my brother and sister-in-law sat on the lakeahore, almost the exact location where mum was. They seemed to be contemplative, reflective as they looked out at the lake... Perhaps they imagined what mum was looking at. Perhaps somewhere in the lake were ripples that contain her memories ("mumories") and her life beyond this world. 

This air, this wind, this whispering of the wind. Mum is gone, but the presence of her absence fills us still. 

Reunion

The family is asleep now, brother snoring in the living room, my little nephew and sister in law sleeping quietly in the spare bedroom. I'm in my bedroom, working into the wee hours of the morning, striving to prepare for another lecture on Monday.

My dream of bringing my family here has come true, family. Mum and dad would be so proud of us seeing us all together under one roof, my roof. I've extended them the warmest welcome, brought a toy and smiley balloon to greet my nephew, and prepared feasts at night and even booked a rather fancy surprise. They are family, the only family I have left, and they deserve nothing less.

We went into the mountains today and admired the changing colours of Autumn. We woke at 5ish, all of us for some reason, me included, so exhausted after 9. It was probably the longest sleep I had for weeks, though it was interrupted by noise of construction going went on all night last night...

The colours of Autumn is simply breathtaking... It breathes life into even the fullest of lives, into the greyest of imaginations and minds. Who can behold such colours and not be amazed , awed or be even the slightest persuaded in the presence of a greater being who paints with such vivid colours?

My newphew gets so excited by any playground and I spent a long time under the hot sun teaching him how to step and hold on tightly. He's so sweet, inquisitive and ever so cute, though he can be a little devil when he is tired and grumpy and wouldn't stop crying... My brother and his wife seem to be in awe at the nature and all that Canada has to offer... She confided in me she noticed that a difference yesterday when we went to a riverside park: the children and parents don't give us another look , as they do in Europe. Not a hostile look, just a look as if we are different. But in Canada, we are no more different than the rest of the population, for this is a country of immigrants. Unlike Europe which still has an issue with race and colour... Just after she said that, I watched as two squirrels, one dark furred another with a light shade of brown fur played and dashed up a nearby tree. 

Family arrives today
Excited but anxious

Missing mum

I miss mum, and saw her in my dreams... I guess it was prompted by meeting a friend who lost his mum only a few months ago. He told me how he can't bear to see pictures of his mum. He told me how his sister has become a "rogue', partying all day, not going home, and yet she posts all these pictures of their mum on Facebook all the time. He told me that and was tearing.

Just because I don't post Herr as much or as often, doesn't Mean I dont miss her or think of her. She's on my mind, in my dreams. She's a part of me. As I am a part of her. Her, and dad, are the reasons why I do things, why I feel I should strive to be  a better  person, because they were the best people they could have been, because they gave their everything to give to me and to ensure I have everything.

Would she, and dad, be proud of me?

Cut loose.

Exam done

One down, two more to go.
Exhausted from lack of sleep and the repetitive cycle of work and study every day for the past three weeks. Not yet fully done, two more to go, better than the nine I began with back in October  2011. But what a long (and at times grueling) process it has been.

I sat there after the exam and waited for the one hundred something people to exit the exam hall... So many people all want to become a lawyer. What makes me better or better qualified? Why am I even doing this? Prestige? Money? Or just the ability to call myself a lawyer and awe (most) people without even needing to say anything else?

With this exam the summer is drawing to an end. A new school term about to begin.... Maybe with a course I need to lead.

Next week, the beginning of the sixth year I am in Canada .

I lay on my bed and heard the door open, and then footsteps approach.

Shadows approached , and then the face. It was mum's face , and what joy I felt...
Joy that turned so soured and became tears and sobbing.

Happy father's day...

Developments

Been very quiet these days here, reflective of how my life had been these days...

Fell very ill two weeks ago from a bad flu. Before getting ill, I was emotionally very down and fragile...
It's the lingering effects of loss and grief. I just cant explain why I miss my parents so much these days.

Sitting alone at a Japanese restaurant I found recently. Next to me a table of middle aged people talking about how kids these days are so distant and don't take care of their parents, how kids visit once or twice a year, even if they llved in the same city... I'm just sitting here and thinking to myself how lovely they have parents to love and treasure and yet they dont... Would they miss their parents As I do so much now after they are gone...?

Other than that, it's been busy at work, and I'm slowly (maybe much too slowly...) Trying  to study for an exam in two weeks. Very quiet at woke nowadays, as nobody is around. A colleague is leaving soon for a new job, so a lot of responsiblities are going to be falling on my shoulders... Another colleague's dsughter has surgery to remove a lump, and her father in law is literally on his death bed... There was an afternoon I sat and listened to her and tries to calm her down, even though I was myself tryingg to hold back tears.

Then two dsys ago my prof wrote to me and asked if I want to lead a course in the coming semester. I was completely taken aback, as I never realised how much they valued me. My first instinct was to think "I can't..." And for the whole of that day I was very tense and nervous just at the thought of teaching and speaking in front of people for three hours.... 

My colleagues have been encouraging and told me to just do it. It is a great opportunity, and a step into teaching, some that could prove useful in the future. Who knows, maybe I'll love it and decided this is what I want to do? 

But just the thought of being a lecture scares me.... Who am I? How much credential do I have to teach ( even though it's a course about airlines business and I do know a fair bit about airlines and airplanes...) ? What if they boo me or despise me and see me as just this young boy making fool of himself? 

I told my boss I'd think about about... Deep down I am very tempted, but am also very nervous too... Deep down, as someone reminded , I know my parents would be so very proud of me (just the thought of that moves me to tears .. ) 

Motorbiking the streets of Chiayi, crisscrossing the little familair alley ways and lanes at night, sitting in the back...

With mum.

Show

This was a programme mum would sometimes stay up to watch...
She would be so engaged and captivated by the eloquent and powerful style of the talk show host and news reporters. Like an excited little girl who knows it's time to go to bed, but cannot.

Many nights I sat by her side and watched this very programme.


seeing this brought tears to my eyes.

Life

"The gods may throw the dice
Their minds as cold as ice
And someone way down here
Loses someone dear
The winner takes it all
The loser has to fall
It's simple and it's plain
Why should I complain?"

The middle of the night...

Checked my phone, and there was a message from my cousin.
Ascending colon. Cancer. Aunt.

I almost burst out crying.

Why?

WHY?!

Fking cancer... here to take another beloved person away from me.
Images of mum and dad flashed in my head.
Images of childhood summers spent at my aunt's house, and how she took care of me, and treated me like her own child...

I don't know how serious it is.

I will call tomorrow, maybe I will return home to see her soon.

State of the world

What is wrong with the world? 

Bombing kids playing football on a beach in Gaza...

And shooting down a plane laden with civilians, most probably on their way to a long anticipated holiday...

horrible, Despicable acts of pure violence against innocent people and children. 

Nothing is sacred, no lives immune to wanton acts of destruction and terror motivated by hatred and greed.

Email

Email to a friend-in-loss

"But I imagine you can understand till this day, I am still deeply affected, and I imagine that you are too. Worst thing is I dont really have anyone I can share my feelings with, and there's not really anyone close with whom I feel comfortable sharing my feelings with. Even my brother I can't talk about these things because he's got his own life and family to think about and distract him.

I think I can understand what you mean by seeing the loss of mum as something negative... It really was the end of so much struggle, so much pain, and now I just feel empty. Empty!! Like there's a big void that used to be filled with worry, fears, hospital visits and praying at night, but now there's this uneasy quite which is so disturbing. 

And in this state of quiet, I can't find anything that  really matters, or at least, I can't think of anything that really matters or makes me passionate (except perhaps my kitty cat, and nephew.....!!).

I struggle a lot to get up and do anything, even to get to work in the morning. Struggle to motivate myself to plan for my future or do things that before were so important (like my bar exams....) Its like losing mum, I've lost that drive and life   , and I have lots of difficulty finding meaning or purpose...

Perhaps most difficult of all is feeling like I've lost the ability to feel, lost the ability to love. And what is a Pisces if we cannot feel, cannot love? It's as if most of the time I am like a fish flapping about on land when I should be swimming freely and beautifully in water... It's like a lot of the time I see myself gasping for air, but I don't remember the last time I can feel like I can breathe with ease..."

Storm

I grabbed my bike in the middle of the pouring rain, and just biked.

I don't care if I got wet. I wanted to get wet.
The rain is soothing, somehow, and it felt like it was healing too.
The whole weekend I felt like I was covered in a haze of depression and lethargy, and getting drenched was what I needed.

I biked and raced along the river, and every puddle I came across, I sped through like a mad person.
I loved the way water splashed all over my legs, my feet, my clothes. I loved the way I was dripping with dirty water, and how my legs were soiled from leaves and pieces of branches.

Sometimes losing yourself and doing something out of the ordinary can be so awakening.
I felt alive.
For those rare few moments as I biked and sped down the cycle path, I felt so alive.

Another Dreamfilled night

Another night my mind was filled with dreams as I slept. Again, I seemed be looking for mum, and I woke up feeling so lonely and vulnerable in my bed.

It may be that for the past three weeks or so, since my cousin came I have been so busy and spending so much time around Someone that I've forgotten what loneliness and emptiness  feels like. And now those feelings have returned with a vengeance.

The break is over, the travels and time with my cousin and friends who were visiting are over (at times, I have to admit I was hoping it would be all over soon). Back to my home with my little cat, back to my routine of work, sleep, eat and the stuff of life.

I have to admit, I enjoyed having my cousin over, having someone in the house to be around with, having someone to take care of. I missed that...

And in so many ways, particularly the way I was showing my cousin the way things are here and explaining to her how life works here, I felt a deja vu and connection with the summer of 2011 when mum visited me and stayed for six weeks with me. How I took care of her.... How I  pampered her and showed her around and treated her like a special guest...

Perhaps those experiences then, and the experiences wirh my cousin these few weeks, remind me of what I have lost, and what I would like to find and build up once more.

losing mum

A series of powerful and frightening dreams rocked my sleep this morning.
I woke up (and slept) again and again sobbing

In the dream, mum was supposed to visit me, but somehow when the day came she never showed up. I couldn't find her, and tried so hard to reach her through all means. But she was just gone. 

I searched for her frantically, dashed around the streets like a madman. Throughout my search in vain, I thought to myself: 

"I can't lose her again! I just can't! I just can't bear to lose her one more time..."

There were all these friends, and my brother, around, but they just didnt seem to care or share my sense of desperation.

It was so painful, I screamed and  yelled and cried out for help. 

I lost mum once, but in the dream I was losing her again...

Perhaps the worst night mare I have ever had yet.

In NYC

New York City... Sinatra says if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. It's an urban jungle , wild and noisy, bustling with life, humid and dense (at least in the summer), energetic and knows no difference between night or day... There is a sense of life and excitement, a vibration and rhythm that somehow is very attractive and luring.  

Could I live here? I've wondered this to myself every time I visit. The rents and prices for everything are exorbitant, but at the same time, there are a lot of high paying jobs and opportunities I believe I could qualify for. 

Travels with friends and family

It has been a long and tiring ten days, filled with visits by my cousin and friends. Spent almost a week in toronto and the Niagara falls region, then, after the two friends who flew half way around the world left, I came back to Montreal with my cousin, and began showing her around my home town. Its not been the easiest couple of days, especially trying to coordinate the likes and schedules of several people at once. There were tensions and moments I asked myself why I even put myself in another situation of trying to arrange travels of so many people at once, but at the end of the day, it was nice seeing old friends and good to show them the country live in with a bit of pride.

Yesterday, I took my cousin to Quebec city, a complete surprise, as all I said to her was pack her bags for the day. Even half an hour after we arrived , she somehow had no clue where we were and for some reason thought we were in Ottawa... It was hilarious how some people can be so unaware of their surroundings, even when on the train there were signs and announcements that we had arrived in Quebec! 

It's been really pleasant showing my cousin around, as everything seems to fascinate her , especially the history and arts and culture of this region of the world. She's forever had this dream of moving abroad, and even has the professional training to do so, but due to language barriers has not been able to do so. As I told her, if there is anything I could do to help, i would. 

She is like the little sister  I've never had, the sibling I've always wanted... Even yesterday, when we were outside , I called my own brother just to say hello... What he showed me was this surly and irritated face, such an attitude of contempt and irritation. I hung up the phone and nearly burst out crying... My own brother, yet so little understanding or willingness to undrrstand or know about my life and what I'm doing...  

It has also very difficult at times retracing steps I took with mum three years ago in 2011. Literally, as I took my cousin through the old city of Quebec, as we walked down those cobble stone paths and walked past the restaurants and cafes, it was as if I was walking down memory lane. Memories of mum and I were everywhere to be found, around every corner... The hotel we stayed at, the ferry ride I took at night by myself to have just a little time to myself, the walls of the old city I climbed with her, the restaurant where we had exquisite food and coffee, and when I did not even flinch to order the best (and often most expensive) dishes, because I wanted her to have the best this world could offer. At that time, and how fortunate I am to have the means to do so, money was not a consideration. Making sure she was comfortable, that she enjoyed herself and forgot all about the torments of hospital beds and chemo was what mattered most. 

It was such a beautiful trip, and showing my cousin around remineded me so much of those few weeks mum was here with me. I took care of mum so well, just as I am taking care of my cousin. I remember mum saying she felt so blessed and happy here (despite the first days at my home when she and I had a terrible falling out over my sexuality...). It was lovely to show mum around, to show off the beauty and culture this country has to offer. It was extremely important, for her and for me I think, for it was a way to reassure her that I am in a safe and beautiful environment so that she needs not worry about my future whenever that day came when she is no longer around...

Sure enough, she is no longer around, and here I still am, living in the same home and in the same country as the one mum and I visited three years ago... same place, same little lanes and alleyways and gelato parlours, same field where mum stood and called my brother in Europe, yet this time around so terribly empty. 

Terribly empty...

It feels so alien and bizarre three years later to return to the same place and yet mum is no longer physically with me. Part of me feels bitter, like I am waking from a cruel dream that seemed too real and too wonderful. Part of me feels blessed and fortinare to have made such memories all on my own... Images of my brother's sour looking face and annoyed attitude just made me feel so alone in the world.

Return to Niagara falls

I cannot but think back, how two years ago I called mum at this very spot. I grit my teeth as I listened to her weak voice reminisce the past, how she and I talked about our first visit here together as a family back in 1994....

I asked if she could hear the Falls, hear the powerful sounds of nature, hear the unending echo of the flow of water... She could not feel it's power, its incessant sounds and the damp on my face.

I broke down and howled. Tears poured from my eyes like I've not done for months. I couldn't cry in front of her as her body weakened and thinned , as I watched her become skin and bones and as cancer robbed her of life and colours. The falls were so powerful, majestic, beautiful.... My mum was once so in my eyes, and has always been so beautiful, kind and patient. Yet, she was losing her life, losing her colours, and I knew that soon I would lose her...

I broke down after speaking to her.
Cried just as I am crying now. Uncontrolled outpouring of emotions, of tears that I could not cry before because I needed to be brave and strong in front of her, in front of everyone. But deep inside I was in pain, hurting and crying. Then, as I am now.

Two years on, her body has gone to ashes, her belongings stored in a space I do not dare to enter, in boxes I do not have the courage to unpack or touch. 

I watch the Falls and realise again how much I miss her... The force of nature is so raw, so strong, so powerful. It gives and it takes, and what are we but little human beings at the mercy of its whim?

Two years, twenty years later, so much has changed...

Anniversary

I woke up early to the beeping of my phone.

It was my brother, who had sent me two pictures of his dining table, at the head of which sat my nephew. Spread over the table were plates of food. Chicken, fish, vegetables, fruits,  and at the centre of it all, a picture of my parents, one taken at a restaurant in Taipei around 15 or so years ago.  I remember that dinner well, we were all there as a family. Brother was grumpy because I made him walk in the summer heat to get to the restaurant. It was a fancy place, close to the bank where dad worked at the time, and part of our annual family dinner...

Now, its just my brother and his family, and me left now.

How do I feel? Pensive, reflective, sad and slow today... Again, as much as I can 've surrounded by friends, there's that deep emptiness inside that cannot be filled... Not by booze, not by sightd of superficial people dressed in tight and colourful clothes,  not with upbeat music.

Most likely I will take some time on my own, get away and walk off the heaviness, and think of the mum (and dad) who gave me so much and made me who I am today...

I wish my parents could be proud of me and who I am...

You can be surrounded by thousands of people, surrounded by booze and party music and mood....

And yet so empty, so very empty inside.

Two years...

I feel it creeping in.

I picked up a friend, the last of three people who have flown across the world to be here this week for Pride.
It has been wonderful seeing every one, bonding again and having a good laugh and good times.

But deep down I feel the sadness boiling.
Which may explain why in the afternoon, I just slept... Slept as if I were in a dream, a trance and could not be waken up.

Deep down, I miss my late mum.

I really , really do...

Where did the days go?

Where did the days go? 

Been a month since I returned from my trip to China and North Korea. I don't know why or how the time has just flown by. Work has been extremely busy, but that doesn't explain how the days have just gone by without me noticing them. 

Been back a month, and only yesterday did I manage to unpack my suitcases... Unpack as in get the suitcases off of the floor and stuff them into the closet so they cannot be seen! And I cleaned my room, got all those papers and things lying around only because my cousin  is coming tonight.

Where did the days go? I had plans to write about my experiences during my travels, but I'm just so tired, so tired and am feeling so agitated and unable to put words to paper (or a screen). These past few weeks have been rough, not just trying to recover from a long trip filled with new experiences and excitement, but also dealing with upheavals in personal relationships (utter disregard for my personal space and privacy...) And at the same time coping with the grueling days of June, the month I saw mum fade so quickly away from our lives two years earlier...

I know it's strange and irrational, because it is all in the past. But a friend who lost her dad five years ago still hurts. Another who lost her dad twenty, thirty years ago still is close to bursting out in tears every time those raw nerves are touched. Loss and grief are so pervasive, so permanent, so powerful! I wish I could get rid of it, feel whole and not so lonely again, but I cannot. I cannot dispel the discomfort, that sense of heaviness and sorrow that robs me of minutes, hours and days without me realising it.

where did the days go? 

“I pictured myself going out in a blaze of glory, but this kind of death, this slow, invisible disappearing into nothing, it’s terrifying.”
OITNB

Something...

19 June. Ten days till the end of June, ten days till the end of mum's life two years ago (according to the western calendar).

This month has been slow and a slump. So many dreams... so many visions of mum (and dad)... Tears, emotional depletion and this terrible terrible exhaustion. Grief seems to be raring its head again, and loneliness, that damned, god-forsaken sense of emptiness and withdrawal is consuming my heart, my joys, my very soul.

There are moments I sit in the office, or stand leaning against the wall of the metro, and close my eyes. In these moments, I can hear everything going on around me, but I feel as if I am drifting, drifting and am lost like a ghost in a world full of noise, full of life.

And I feel so small... so insignificant and so weak again.
I was getting stronger, and have been healing myself with travels and explorations of the world out there (despite what people may point and say...). But moments like this make me feel like I am taking steps back, like I am stumbling and falling all over again.

May, the month of mum's birthday and Mother's Day...
June, the month that two years ago was filled with dashed hopes, flying across the world and trying to make a dying person's last moments comfortable and filled with love. 

When I open my eyes, I see the world move all around me. I feel the world spin and feel like everything has just been a dream. A dream. A dream one has during a brief nap.


But I am not alone. I realise this more and more as events have been unfolding in the lives of people and friends around me. There is no monopoly on loss, pain and grief. I see it on the face on the hapless lady sitting alone on  the park... I see it in empty eyes of a homeless man searching for a hint of mercy and compassion. Losses and emotional traumas are abound, and we are all here in our shared experience of grief and pain, in our yearning for happiness and comfort.

Sob

It began out of nowhere, slowly at first then this violent sobbing...

I yearned for mum, long for her touch and embrace...

I am hurting so badly.
I need human contact. 

Arriving in PEK

It's massive. The gigantic triangular terminal building looks like something from the future. White steel girders align the roof while see through glass panes decorate the sides. It's awe-inspiring, breathtaking, and very empty. I tread carefully on the ground, and took my first steps in the People's Republic. 

Passengers alighting from the flight from Narita seemed to be the only passengers in the terminal building, and it was only a little after eight in the evening. I rode the people mover from the international section to the domestic side to the baggage claim area. It took over ten minutes to traverse one of the largest (hu)man-made structures in the world.

Immigration was efficient, and the lady smiled at me as she flipped through my passport, which bears various entry and exit stamps from Taiwan. I was somewhat apprehensive, for there was always the fear of being denied entry at the border, particularly as I have always been a very outspoken critic of the Chinese government. A month earlier, when I applied for entry to the People's Republic, I wrote "Taipei" as my place of birth. That was where I was born. But that was not enough. The lady at the visa office sternly told me to put "Taipei, China". To the Chinese government that makes all the difference. To some, a word makes all the difference. In the section asking if I held another passport, the lady insisted that I declare myself as being Chinese. "Taiwan is a part of China, you must say you hold a passport of China." 

In an Orwellian world where manipulation is information, where an untruth repeated a hundred times becomes holier than the truth itself, where Big Brother is your friend in need and can be your worst nightmare, an individual cannot object or argue. There is no individual to speak of, no individual thought or dissent that can be tolerated. 

The question is do you disobey your conscience and conform without protest? Is conforming forsaking your beliefs and a betrayal of your very identity? Is not protesting a sign of agreement? These are questions that I wrestled with even before I stepped foot in the countries I planned to visit.  

The greatest irony of all is that my Chinese visa was issued on the page opposite my previous visa for Taiwan. A picture of the Great Wall of China face to face with a Formosan Blue Pheasant.  

At the time, I said nothing, but felt this rage inside. This was a test of my personal pride, challenging the fundamentals of me as a human being. Even before beginning my journey to the People's Republic I wrestled with my conscience and beliefs. Technically, my country of birth is at war with China, and I staunchly refuse to buy products that are Made in China (partly because of politics, but partly they are simply substandard and often made under terrible labour conditions). Are my beliefs being compromised simply by entering a country whose politics and policies leave a sour taste in my mouth? 

If this were the case,  then my travels to Burma/Myanmar, Israel, the United States or even Singapore, may have made me a hypocrite. If this were the case, then certainly visiting China (and then north Korea) would undermine the core values of individual freedom, democracy and freedom from fear that I subscribe to. I am not trying to justify my wanderlust or brush over the choice of countries I travel to, but as I grow older I do feel one should differentiate between endorsement of a particular regime and the destination you wish to visit. You are after all, visiting the country, the people (if you can even speak to or approach them...), even though at times traveling somewhere as a tourist means you are effectively bankrolling a regime. 

"China warmly welcomes you !" a massive sign said in English, and the message was repeated in a variety of languages. As I waited for the airport people mover, an automatic train that spans the length of the massive terminal building, I heard soft classical music emitted from hidden speakers. Classical music? Is that not, according to Mao and the Chinese Communist Party at one point in time , western and  bourgeois culture that needs to be uprooted and eradicated? Little did I realise that this would be the first of many contradictions and surprises on my maiden voyage tot he People's Republic of China. 

The half an hour taxi ride to downtown Beijing went without much conversation, except for the initial outbursts from the driver in heavily accented Mandarin I was not used to. I told the driver where I would like to go, and said a friend recommended that it would most convenient to a taxi. "Your friend is so bad! Very bad!" The driver kept on shouting. "(S)he  gave you bad information! Why is (s) he so bad?!" He was outraged that I could have taken the airport express and was somehow duped into taking a taxi. The driver then went on a rant about how bad the traffic would be, how it might take over an hour just stuck on the road. I sat in the back and listened to the strange outburst and tried in vain to find the seat belt fastener.

Luckily, the roads were relatively smooth, unlike the dreaded jams that I have heard so much about. with the growing middle class, large cities Iike Beijing has had to contend with growing car ownership and ever worsening traffic and smog. One measure was to institute an alternative day driving scheme, whereby cars with certain number plates are only allowed on the roads on certain days (Sunday's all the cars can go on the road...). Suddenly,  the driver cranked down his window and without asking just lit up a cigarette. It had been a while since i last visited a place where people smoke anywhere and everywhere, and where it is still common (for men) for the newly acquainted to offer one another a cigarette. Little was I prepared for the coming three weeks, in which every day at the end of the day I and my clothes would reek as if I had been smoking all day. 

I admired the broad streets and avenues lit with neon lights and colourful advertising billboards. The closer we got to Beijing, the more highrises there were. Modern, futuristic skyscrapers all vying to reach the heavens. And if they were not enough, there were bushes of construction cranes and scaffolding ready to unveil even more glitzy highrise buildings. Cities like Beijing (and Shanghai) has in the past decade constructed many more skyscrapers than its counterparts in North America and Europe. 

Feast for mum

I woke up early and cooked up a feast for mum.
Two years it has been. Two years...

My heart was heavy, and I miss her terribly. But in cooking, in laying out all those fruits (raspberries, blueberries, currants, pineapples...) and drinks she so loved (Evian, Perrier, soya milk...), I felt I honoured her life, her love.

I sat on the ground before the offerings and closed my eyes.
A lot of noise and nonsense and inner chatter from past and recent events I tried to shut away. They are so irrelevant, so trivial, so meaningless to what really matters in life...

I asked mum for her blessings, asked her to kindly look over my little nephew and my brother's family...
At one point the cat approached me and sat down with me a while. She looked around as if "something" was there...



I know not what she thinks of me now...
But from facebook, from a picture of her I posted clunching the bear that she once gave me, I know many of mum's dear friends miss her much too.

I tried to get a hold of my brother when the ceremony was coming to an end, as I wanted my nephew to be "here".
I only managed to get a hold of them an hour later, but still it was beautiful to see them over skype.

My nephew cute as ever, my sister in law chasing after him as he hopped around the house...

My brother and I spoke for over an hour and a half... about their upcoming trip, about his big plans for his family and about his plans for the future.

I hope mum saw us and listened to us bond with a smile.

I can't think of a better gift for mum than to remember her, and to let her know that the family she created is continuing to thrive and coming closer together...

Anniversary eve

The teddy bear mum gave me and said  I should keep forever, for he would protect me after she is gone, is lost... I thought of him tod thesy because I was planning to organise a ceremony to honour my mum. This will be the first time that bear will not be attending the ceremony.

But what matters is that I attend, that I still remember, that I still cherish the moments mum and I had together, however difficult the remembering may be sometimes. 

I've been emotional for the past week or so, partly due to this, partly due to some upheavals in relationships with friends. At the end of the day,  what is more important? I choose to focus my energies on commemorating mum, and it is energy and time much better spent.

With the help of a friend, I managed to get a hold of a whole chicken, cut up and nicely presented. It is perhaps the most important dish, the most symbolic dish. Chicken is homynous with "family" in the native language I used to speak to mum in, a language I have not used much since she left. Chicken symbolises continuity of family, of family relationships even after the departure of a loved one. I will offer this chicken to mum, and remember when I take bites into it.

Two years now, according to the lunar calendar, since mum left this world. I remember all that , events of that very day so vidivdly .... How I wrote a note and left it in her pocket, my final note to mum, my final farewell note.... How I held her hand till the very last moment, till the very last breath...

Two years... Two years...

I hope mum is doing well. I miss her terribly, more on days, painfully on other days. I think of her fondly. She was my mother, the one who have me love and affection and taught me all about honesty, giving, kindness and compassion... The one who showed me kindness, love, warmth and affection I have never experienced in my life, and I doubt willl ever experience again in the same way.

This night I remember the moments, the final houes  I spent next to mum's bedside.

Tomorrow I will honour her presence, her love, and her life.

Mum, I miss you...

Eve

How do you break the mould of grief and and mourning? How do you resist the temptation of feelings that are so easy because they are seemingly all around you?

Do something different. 

Leave familiar places and people and go somewhere new.

Why is it that I've been traveling so much these past few years? Partly because of wanting to be with mum, but now that episode has come to a close, its because traveling makes me forget, or at the very least remember less the painful and difficult moments and traumas, and allows me to see more of the world that for so long had been darkened by the shadows of illness and death. 

It does not matter most other people do not understand it.

It matters only that I realise I need it to heal and make me whole again. because, as a friend recently told me, I have come a long long way on my own. How...? I don't know how... I stumbled and fell and cried more than ever before on my own.

From grief and loss to venturing into unchartered and potentially dangerous territories. These are not small feats, most people do not realise.

On the eve of the second anniversary of lice without mum , without a parent, I close my eyes and blink away the tears and fears. I blink away the pain, the emptiness, the sorrow and the void.

I will break away.

Who can do no wrong?

You who can do no wrong. 

Used my place for two weeks in a row , but did not have even a few moments to make sure the place is relatively clean, left nacho chips and chocolate stains on the bed. 

And turning to accuse me of being ungrateful? Just because you helped return a beloved item of clothing to me means that you can leave a mess behind and that I should be ok with it all? 

And I'm the one acccused of lacking in social etiquette (at a time when I was mourning, no less). Where is the compassion, understanding and being the supportive friend you claim to be?

In some ways I feel sorry for you, for you seem to believe everyone is fooled by your lies and attempts to cover up things and manipulate people and facts. One day, you may wake up and find yourself tangled in a web of lies. 

I have told you before how you should 've very careful what you do and be wary of what people say about you when you are not around. You really believe every time you visit it's all fun and games and people welcome you with such warmth? You would be sick at the things people say about you, how they laugh at you and the way you blunder and make a mockery out of relationships. The past few years have just been a joke to our friends, and some are just too ashamed too admit it perhaps because it gives them joy to watch what nonsense you will get into next. 

Say nothing...

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

Departures

It felt so real, so heart-wrenching.

I saw myself on the way to the airport, and my mum was net to me.
I just broke down in tears from the anticipated farewell. It felt like I would never see her again after seeing her off.

Mum sat next to me and touched my arm. I cried even more.
I could not bear it...

where was she going?
Why did she have to leave?

I cried even more as though questions tore through my mind and seared my heart.

Then suddenly was the empty airport hall. I was all alone. All alone.
I fell to the ground sobbing like a wounded animal...

T- 6.

Departures

It felt so real, so heart-wrenching.

I saw myself on the way to the airport, and my mum was next to me. 

I just broke down in tears from the image, the sight of mum. 

Recognition

After over two months I heard back from the friend who lost his mum to cancer. He said he's been very affected, but family has been very supportive. He's back at work again, after taking extended leave, and work is distracting him. But still it hurts and is very difficult.

"i dunno how u got thru it alone when it happened to u" he wrote to me.

Those words penetrated my heart, and I almost broke out in tears. 

It was the recognition that really touched me. Recognition that I still hurt, still feel the hurt and recognniton that it's not all over just because it's been almost two years. 

My friends don't ask anymore. 

It's as if just because I'm smiling more, just because I'm laughing more and going out a bit more, I'm over it. 

But can you ever get over death of a loved one? Can you ever get over the death of your mother? As a book about grieving I read put it, you don't move on from death. You move forward with it. It weighs heavy and is with you throughout your life. At times it's lighter, but there are moments, anniversaries, holidays, memorable days, when it's as painful and fresh as the day it happened. 

I'm hurting still, and I've come a long, long way from those nights I cried alone in bed or would wake up from a nightmare and memories of hospital wards and mum plugged to tubes... but I'm sure my friend is hurting even more. 

Trust

Trust too much and you are treated like a foolish fool who can manipulated and lied to .

Close off and youre forcing yourself to withdraw again after slowly coming out of mourning and letting go of pain and loss.

But nothing can and will remain the same.

This ends here and now.

Pek-sfo

PEK-SFO

One more hour till arrival in San Francisco. It has not been such a bad eleven hoursx not as I dreaded in economy (plus) class. I guess I was too exhausted, for I slept most of the way, and watched a two silly movies and some documentary about fish tank makeovers (which was surprisingly captivating). 

Flying United after several days in China you actually begin to appreciate little words as "You're welcome" and "Thank you". That says a lot about China, and about United. I was really getting very frustrated at the poor attitude and way people treat you (and one another), and how it is considered the norm. Even at the special counter reserved for frequent fliers I did not get a smile or a thank you or anything along the lines of "have a good flight". It was as if being served by the person, I was asking her a huge favour. And she did her job poorly, for I had to remind her twice to place priority tags on my luggage, and she did not even place me in the priority boarding area.  I know first world problems, but it underlines how people really just don't care about one another, and as many locals have said to me, they care most about money and a rosy cheeked Chairman Mao (who's face is on the 100yuan note).  

The past three weeks or so has been such an experience, not least I stepped outside my comfort zone and for the first time ever broke the self-imposed embargo by visiting the People's Republic of China. What I saw and experienced surprised me, for (again, at least what I saw) China has greatly kept forward and is extremely developed, particularly just the infrastructure and swaths of highrises all over the place. But despite such economic development and wealth, there is an alarming dirth of moral integrity and social cohesion, for evrything is under tight control by the Communist Party which is merely communist in name and whose presence is still strongly felt in propaganda posters and the ubiquity of policemen all over the place (of course not comparable to the degree in North Korea). 

This sense of moral deprivation and an overriding sense of selfishness and egoism owes much to the fact there is simply so many (perhaps too many) people competing for food, for work, for getting rich and having a  comfortable  life. There is in fact so much fear in people's lives, and it seems the only way to protect yourself is to get rich (自肥 "self-fattening", as the local term goes) Fear of being conned, Fear of not getting on the metro first, fear for food safety, fear of being murdered or kidnapped and having your organs sold for money is part of daily life... It is a wonder how people live in such a crowded place and must continually struggle and vie to be heard and to be recognised. Ironically, it was Mao who himself urged people to struggle against one another to root put decadence and spies, and filed distrust and self-preservation. 

It is a real shame, for China does have much potential, especially given its gloroious past (much of which, particularly the language, virtues, and cultures, have been preserved, due to a twist in history, in neighbouring and my native Taiwan). The ancient remains of the imperial dynasties in old Beijing are impressive and stunning, the beauty and ingenuity of Sichuan's Dujianyan waterworks is testament to the ingenuity and greatness of ancient China. But as China progresses, and as the Communist Party aims to ironically embrace the ancient values and virtues it four decades ago shunned and deliberately destroyed. The contradictions between how capitalism and consumerism  has manifested itself and the inward-looking attitude and socialist ideals that were once so trumped up by the Party, not least by Mao and his followers, is extreme, and at times humorous. 

This trip also brought me to the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, which was an enlightening experience and a throwback to the height of the Cold War and language of anti-imperialism and socialist idealism. The country itself is beautiful, largely rural and agrarian, relatively untouched by development , forgotten, and to be honest very backward. Under the iron grip of the Kim Dynasty, there is a fear and discipline and conformity is kept alive with intimidation, fear and the constant bombardment of propaganda and the ever-present presence of the military which infiltrates all parts of life.  There is very limited freedom, even compared to China, and it is as if the world has passed it by while the leadership and its people live in the socialist pipedream that they are building an utopia that is amazing, unheard of and unparelleled in the world. 

I had a wonderful time with the small group of adventure cyclists who joined the tour with me, most of whom were Dutchies and my age group, which made interaction and being able to relate much easier. The train ride out of DPRK to China was another highlight, as was the flight into North Korea with Air Koryo. But how relieved I was to leave the hermit kingdom, even if entering the PRC. So imagine my joy when the plane landed at SFO and the moment I could access internet without censorship (but perhaps some monitoring, by the NSA...?) 

Eight more hours and two more flights till I get home. what a trip this has been, most of it done alone. I do enjoy the freedom of being a travel at will and go wherever I wish, even if against the advice of those concerned about my safety and security (I think I proved them wrong...). But there were several moments during my trip when I felt sad, pensive and down, for a journey alone is not as much joy. And I thought at times about my parents, about how it would be if they were around today for me to share with them my stories and adventures. 

SFO-ORD

Over half way through the flight, and I've been sleeping like someone drugged me, waking only when someone bumps my shoulder, since I'm in an aisle seat and this old 757 plane is so cramped.

I didn't realise how tired I am, how tired I have been. Not just from all that work and studying before the trip, but also from all that traveling and activities during the trip. Tours are tiring. In a way it's good, as you get to see more and get better value for money, but at the same time, it's fast paced and you have to  wake at six or seven every morning to set out. And doing all that biking, parrticularly in very warm conditions, is draining. Or maybe I'm getting old...? 

I had planned to work, or even write down some of my trip reports on this long journey home, but sleep just got the better of me.