Minutes to midnight

A few minutes to midnight, to the new year. Outside you can almost already hear the abated noise of fireworks and revellers, of popping champagne corks and party horns. An old year is leaving soon, a new one is about to dawn.

My cousin is in his room talking to his girlfriend, they want to 'spend' the new year together, sweet. So I'm just here on my own with the two cats, in the new apartment. It's not quite all ready yet, actually just two hours ago we were still painting parts of the kitchen, but it's falling into place. And what a way to begin the new year in a new home, filled with hope and starting life afresh. After all the troubles, all the fatigue of getting to this place, of getting to this point in my life, I sit back and feel a sense of fulfilment, finally, of quiet joy and contentment. I have come so far... so far...

Here is to all the people who have helped me along the way... may they be happy and at peace. May the world be happy and at peace.

Peace, joy and love to the world and everyone, every being in the new year.

Last night in Montreal

One last night, last couple of hours in Montreal...

The cat is sleeping on a heap of my clothing. It is cold, not horribly so, but chilly (surprisingly 'warm' for this time of the year...). The room is a mess, but at least the rest of the house is somewhat emptier.

A few more hours, and I am out of here. Home of the past six years.

Gone.

Last night in Montreal

Final night, final few hours in my own apartment in Montreal. Seven years here, and tomorrow I will be relocated to Toronto.

The house is a mess, at least my bedroom is. I've had to move all the remaining things into my bedroom, which now is just a pile of stuff. Boxes, papers, plastic bags, odd appliances and clothes all strewn over my bed. It's a horrible mess. And I'm in a pretty foul mood... My cousin is here, and fortunately he helped me a bit. Friends came by, just to say goodbye. Need friends even ask for help to get some help...? It's just been three, four weeks of packing, packing and sorting through things, and I am dead, dead tired. As someone said, it is even tougher doing it all by myself, having to do it all alone.

Last night in Montreal, and I am in this foul mood... sadly, this is the case, perhaps because I am just so exhausted mentally and physically (my jaw hurts from over grinding... my head aches from getting by with very little sleep...) Does anyone care or ask how I am doing? Not even my own brother or his family reached out to ask how I am doing or what I am doing this Christmas period...

Flying "home"

Flying back to Montreal after a few days in Toronto. The move earlier in the week went smoothly. 30+ boxes of personal belongings and my bed all moved in a truck within a day. I'm settled now, at least the majority of my belongins have been moved. That was always the biggest headache. A headache that caused me much worry and stress, and even my night time grinding to intensify... Now it's just a matter of unpacking, and that will take some time. But I have time. Slowly, things will fall into place. Slowly, my home will be more and more personalised and my own. The arrival of the cats will be a giant leap in that regard. The cats will make things covered with hair but also with such warmth and sense of belonging. (Just hope the move next week will not be challenging....)

The last of the renovation work was completed with the delivery of the kitchen appliances and setting of the counter top for the kitchen. And yesterday, inadvettently while just walking down the street, I came across a store that had furniture made in Canada that were perfect for the condo. Deeply discounted and quality wood , made by local woodmakers. It was chance, it was fate. I didn't even have to go looking for it, it was just there, with a sign pointing up stairs. Like so many things associated with the purchase of this condo, it all happened so smoothly and flowed... 
Delivery of the furniture should be next week. And then I'm set (painting still needs to be done, but that can take some time...).

As I was unpacking some of the boxes, I careful unwrapped mum and dad's cups and bowls. The ones I use to offer them food and drinks on special days. I was again reminded of their absence, and imagined their joy of only they could see my place and stay at my own home... If only. Amid the joy and pride of owning my own home, I felt a tinge of sadness too. They worked so hard, and I have so much thanks to them... I am so fortunate to be able to buy and enjoy luxury appliances and poeceliain (all discounted of course, but still... ) Quality and living the high life compared to so many years of living so modestly in my previous apartment in Montreal. I imagine they would be happy to see my pride and joy, living on the top floor of a lovely little buidlinf in a great location. They would be assured, I am sure... 

As the plane banked away and ascended into the clouds, I felt this jubilation. I have a home. A beautiful home I can call my own. It'll be so personal, it'll be my private castle, shelter from the world, and my little private corner of the world . And it is no one else's. I have to be very careful to guard my place against others. My mum told me that, I remember, as friends in particular might try to take advantage of me seeing how I live alone, so I must be vigilante. Whatever people may say.

A few days in Montreal, one last Christmas celebration and then that's it. A new beginning at the end of a long year, and waiting to welcome the new year.

First night (with a bed)

It's not my first night here in the new condo, but it is going to be the first night with a bed.

What an exhausting three days it's been since the weekend. First had to finish a 20+ page paper (co-authoring with a very renowned scholar, what an honour!) And then packing and packing till yesterday after 3am. Had to get up at 7 to prepare for the arrival of the mover (yet another night with so little sleep... I'm averaging 3-4hrs these days, causing me headaches and dizziness... Really not healthy at all!)

The mover was honest, professional, and we chatted a bit on the long 7hr journey, about my home, about his home country iran, regional politics , the rise of extremism... 30+ items, two dozen boxes. All had to be moved.

It seemed like a dream

Flurries

I opened my eyes, the suddenness of the captain's announcement made my heart jump from the slumber I'd fallen into as soon as I boarded the plane. Tired, exhausted even, as I made my third, or is it fourth, trip to Toronto in as many weeks. Fatigued from staying up till three in the morning preparing for my lecture in the morning. Normally, after the three hour lecture, I would be so drained I would go home to nap (or even just sleep...) . But I had a project I wanted to finish, a book totalling 770 pages...

Before rushing to the airport just in time for the luggage check in cut off time, I frantically packed my usual two suitcases. I filled it with DVDs, books, whatever else was lying on the bookshelf in the spare bedroom under a layer of dust. Some DVDs have never been opened. Some books have never been fully read from cover to cover. Some momentoes bought, or stored, and never touched again. Why? Perhaps I was busy. Or perhaps I was afraid to see and flip back at the pages of days past.

One, or at least one, of the books was a photobook. A collection of ticket stubs, brochures, photographs and whatnot from trips over the past few years. Just a few years ago, when mum was still around, when journeying around the world had a goal, had a purpose, had meaning....

Loving can heal
Loving can mend your soul
And it's the only thing that I know (know)
I swear it will get easier
Remember that with every piece of ya
And it's the only thing we take with us when we die

We keep this love in this photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Our hearts were never broken
Times forever frozen still

The plane slowed and made a gradual descent. The skies were clear, or at least clearer than before I fell asleep. Looking out, the headlight installed on the wing cast an intense beam of light into the dark of the night. Rain, or at least what I thought was rain, fell sideways and were captured by the beam of light. The rain, which turned out to be sleet or flurries, got sucked into the rotating blades of the Q400 aircraft as we slowly, slowly and carefully approached Toronto.

The lights and sight of the city never ceases to be dull and again filled with with such excitement and anticipation. A friend greeted me at the airport and helped me with the two suitcases I lugged from Montreal.

Later at night, I hauled a suitcase back to my new condo alone. It was flurrying slightly. A cold, yet romantic air hang in the air. Romantic in the sense it provoked emotions,  thoughts and nostalgia... I felt a sense of gratitude. After so long, I have a home, finally have a home I can call my own. After all the struggles, after all the memories, some captured in the photobook in the suitcase that groaned as the wheels slid over the pavement, after some of the painful and most difficult and challenging moments of my life (as yet, or perhaps ever...) I have a home to go to.

I opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the new condo.  The smell of  the newly placed laminate floor lingered still in the air. I saw a trail of footprints on the lightly dusted floor. It is a work still in progress.

But I am almost there. My home, a place to call my own.

No more

Last night, madmen (I assume they were all men...) gunned down close to 130 people in downtown Paris. People out enjoying Friday night at a restaurant, at a theatre, and in a nearby football stadium were suddenly thrown into a frenzy of bloodshed and fear. The city locked down, a state of emergency was declared, police and the armed forces were mobilised. The French president vowed to be ruthless against the perpetrators, who it seems clear are Islamic State ISIS. The Eiffel Tower turned off its lights, elsewhere monuments around the world light up in the French tricolore in solidarity with the tragic and senseless loss of lives. A few days earlier, and not much reported or covered, Lebanon suffered a bomb attack that claimed close to two hundred lives. ISIS again claimed responsibility.

What drives people to hurt and maime people on such a wide scale (or even at all)? How twisted and sick one must be to engage in such acts of violence against people you do not know and only interact with, perhaps just a glance of the fear in their eyes, perhaps in just hearing their scream of fear, before their death which you prematurely caused?

Terrorism is sick, and extremist violence aimed to terrorise and kill is mad. The victims in Paris, Lebanon, and throughout history, and in the future to come, deserve nothing less than our sympathy and solidarity. But what is the response to such acts of terrorism? How do you defeat or even engage in an enemy you cannot see, that has no addrress and no clear cut structure?

What is the world  becoming ?
We mourn the loss of innocence and for the victims of terrorism. I silently whisper "no more, no more..."

Flight to Toronto

The dusk light is casting a yellow and golden glow on  the land below, accentuating the colours of high Autumn. Below are the calm waters of Lake Ontario, and in the distance the shores of the city of my future home.

Almost in Toronto, fifteen hours or so until the exam, my last equivalency/qualification exam before taking the bar. Family law. It's been a grueling process studying for this (when has it not been?). I felt so distracted, stressed and concentrated. And there are moments I just want to lie down and sleep. How can I be so tired all the time? How can I just sleep through the day and want to sleep even more?

Is it the effects of the changing  seasons taking its toll on me already? Or the recent shocks to my life and state of mind from the series of events that have again undermined my faith on people and in relationships? All in all, it's been a struggle the past few weeks just to get out of bed, just to pull myself together and get myself to work , to study.

At least this time tomorrow, I'll be free of the stress of an impending exam. The last of nine I have somehow struggled through over the span of 4 years. Four years...

That will ease my mind somewhat, and the rest is just finishing the semester and trying to finish off the editing jobs that have been pretty much neglected since the begining of term.

Toronto is approaching... I feel it. I look forward to the change. Look forward to severing ties with reminders and memories that for a long time, for too long perhaps, have kept me so weak and isolated.

Crappy day

It's just one of those days. I found it hard to get up, and when I did, somehow the laptop screen just went blank. A new laptop, less than a year old. The other day, the big cat jumped on it and it fell off the table with a loud bang that woke me up. And somehow, it seems to have just died...

If that wasn't enough, the other cat went missing for a few hours, only to wander in like nothing happened close to midnight... Talk about trying to study for an exam in five days. I couldn't. Just couldn't. Between lying in bed and trying to find th cat and trying to get my laptop working again (to no avail...) I was just mentally drained and could not get myself motivated to do anything at all. So at close to 4am I am trying to salvage what remains of the last day, or trying to begin the day on a better note.

Nap

I woke up and in that moment I said:

"Mama you must take care of yourself. Papa you also..."

And I opened my eyes. Five to eight at night, the rain is pouring outside. Time to get up now.

Stay with me...

Why am I so emotional?
No, it's not a good look, gain some self-control
And deep down I know this never works
But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt

Aunt's visit to my new place

Last week, my aunt (mum's cousin) visited me in Montreal, and this week her tour ended up in Toronto (where they are scheduled to fly out in a couple of hours...). I coordinated with her, for I knew she would spend some time in the city and do some sightseeing here, and I asked her to take some time out to come see my new place. She happily agreed. Goodness it has already been over two months since we first talked about today's plans, and the day came.

I met up with her at the base of the CN Tower, where she had a nice lunch. I took her to see my new, as yet unfurnished condo. And she was happy for me. She liked the brightness of it all, the spaciousness of the living room, the fact that there is a lovely old church building next door, and how conveniently located (and yet quiet) the building is in the downtown area. She walked around every room and inspected everything carefully, giving me ideas on how to decorate, things to bear in mind (feng shui matters, of course!), telling me all about the importance of positioning of the bed (not under a beam; not in front of a door), the furnace (stove; never in sight as soon as you enter, for the stove is the 'deposit' of wealth) , the sofa (must have a wall to have some kind of 'backing'; never in empty space in the middle of the room)... She took  a few moments to stand on my balcony and admire the view, which was particularly glorious on this sunny day.

We spent the afternoon together, walking around and I showed her a bit of downtown before going to the waterfront and buying some souvenirs to take home. We waited at the restaurant where she was supposed to rejoin her tour group and head to the airport. That was about half an hour ago.

I left the restaurant with a heavy, weighty heart and for several moments after our goodbye felt like crying. She and mum look alike (except the auntie is a bit shorter), and the way she speaks reminds me also of mum... In many ways, she is like her, and she even says she and mum were so very close. They were practically sisters, even though they were cousins, because my auntie doesn't have a sister and looked to my mum as her older sister. The bond was so tight, so strong...

"You have to take good care of yourself, you are on your own now..." she said. She held me as she said that. That really struck a cord in my heart. Her eyes were shimmering. That really hit a button that could have so easily unleashed some tears.

I walked home, to the condo I own, put music in my ears and walked through the busy streets and brights lights of the city. It felt so cold, so very cold suddenly.

I walked into the apartment. It was dark. The only light were the dim light of the city in the background.
 And even though the place I know is pretty much unfurnished (odd chair and table here and there...), it felt all the more empty. That emptiness really pulls at the heart strings.

Really does.

Sleepless night

I lie in bed and cannot sleep. Last night, I could hardly sleep from the excitement of preparing for my lecture. I am exhausted, but I just stir as soon as I am about to sleep...

I called "home" and spent some time chatting on the phone with the monk in the mountains I turn to in times of difficulties. I emptied my emotions, described how more or less since visiting Europe and my brother last month, I have been so disturbed and sleep deprived.  much to do with work-induced stress, but much also attributed to this renewed sense of nostalgia and missing induced by the holidays (mid Autumn). And then there's been that added element of uncertainty, of the impending big change in my life to come. I have just been agitated, diaturbed...

All these thoughts, all these images, these conversations being replayed in my head. I feel tortured by the lack of sleep, and this will no doubt affect again how I feel and how well/poorly I function in the day.

What's wrong...? How come I cannot sleep? I so want to sleep.... I so want real rest, sweet rest of my body, my mind, my soul without me being disturbed by dreams, images, fears and doubts...

end before it started

The end before it started

Just like that, it ended. Not the care and affection we feel for one another, because we both agree we enjoy each other's company and that we have a lot of fun talking and in and out of bed. But that is not enough, not for him. And he didn't want to mislead me or lead me on. He wanted to be honest with me, to be truthful, to prevent more and deeper hurt later on as feelings develop and as time went on. He is just not that into me, not as much as I am into him anyways.

It sucks. It does. Part of me feels hurt, deeply hurt, like another episode of abandonment and another harsh blow I have to deal with and cope with after so many storms and losses in my life over the past few years. But I MUST dissociate him telling me that he just does not feel that spark with me from everything else that has been happening in my life. They are not related, even though the small and hurt psyche in me may feel like I am like a victim and is for some reason being "punished" with lonelyness and abandonment. I am not being punished. I am simply living life, simply weather storm after storm as all people do in life, even though it may appear that other people have it so much easier than I do.... We all have it as it is, nothing less, nothing more.

We hugged. Twice. Tightly. It was hard to know when to let go, and I did not let go before he did, or at least suggested he was letting go. I felt a lot of passion and affection, but that may be accentuated and masked by my desire to fulfil a void in me that was left behind by the loss of my mum. That got me wondering, particularly after that deep conversation we had after a very passionate session last week. But I knew, somehow, after a response from an email I wrote him after that night, that the feelings were not mutual, and that perhaps he would want to cool it off. And I was right.

He showed up suddenly by ringing the bell tonight. I had just finished dinner and was sitting in the living room floor watching TV. He came in, I got all excited and expectant. We talked about our weekend. And then came the reality. And it hit hard. An hour or so ago, he cryptically asked how long it has been since we last met. But he was fishing for how I feel. I answered back: "Either you miss me a lot, or you do not miss me at all". I thought that was a clever response, and of course I wanted it to the former. But it was the latter.

He has fun and enjoys my company, but not to the depth and degree as I do. It was clear, I imagine, after that email I wrote him expressing and laying bare my feelings toward him. It was good, in a way, and I have to remind myself of this and rationally deal with this (loss it loss, feelings are feelings, nothing more, nothing less... I was alone before I met him, I am alone and living my live after he made clear things are not the way as I wish/want them to be).

He showed up at my door. I was surprised, and expectant. But hhe reality hit. It was not as I imagined it would be. He had to come clean. He is one, and that makes him all the more special, because he cares and cares about how I feel, to not hide or conceal and wants to be frank and upright and does not wish to live with guilt or the burden of misleading someone or leading someone on.

I was so reluctant to let him go, but let him go I must... I was reluctant because I felt like crying, falling and breaking apart, and I was scared to be alone, to be by myself and not knowing how to feel, how to act, what to do, afraid to lie in bed and be awake and sleepless. But what about him? How does he feel? How would he feel? I am sure I have done the same with others, I am sure I have rejeted others and made them feel dejected and unwanted, even though I did not intend it.

So we parted on good terms. I said I will miss him, miss his company and warmth. He said he would miss me and would leave to me whether we would meet and under what circumstances. It's not like he is going away or dying, but it feels the premature end of something before it even started...

It hurts, it sure does.

But I will survive. I must. I will. 

Visit

Pass in time...

 Facebook reminded me of a song I shared three years ago to the day. It was 3 October 2012. Three months a few days after losing mum. It was a hundred days after losing mum. The feelings were so raw, so real. They were kept at bay because I needed to be strong for the sake of those around me. I needed to keep calm, carry on, I needed to because mum (and dad ) in heaven would not want to see me cry and break down. How that would break their hearts to see their dear son all alone and crying.

But three months after losing her, I lost myself.
The emotions could no longer be held at bay.
I had changed. And who knew, grief would change me and perhaps play into that fear that I would forever lose my humanity and ability to care, to love, to give, to be who I am and have hoped I will always be...

Three years later , hearing this song, I am filled with bitter sweet memories. Mum-ories. I have come such a long, long way, I really have. I have a job (even if it pays poorly...), a  condo, cats, and all those memories and very regrets about how it all happened. I may not have it all, I may not be rich or may not have found the love I so want, but I am stronger, more together than ever before.


It will pass. Grief will pass. And the past will remain in the past. I must continually remind myself that... continually tell myself, calm myself whenever I have nightmares, whenever I feel the loneliness and deep, deep sense of isolation creep up and haunt my very being, my very insides and soul, that the past is the past, and I must let it all go. However hard it may all be, let things be.

I'm just "here for a while"...

"Oh darling, darling, don't you be like me.
You will fall in love with the very first man you meet."
But mother, mother, some will never know;
The love that you have is still holding my soul."

Indeed, how vulnerable I have become since losing mum, losing the people dearest and who are deepest in my heart and soul. And I must, perhaps for the rest of my life, perhaps for another year, another decade, contend and cope with that. Only in letting go, in moving forward with life and with all that has transpired will I truly be able to move on. 

"So much stays unknown till the time has come.
Did you imagine you could ever be so strong,
Then watch your fear just turn into relief?
Your sea of doubt become your own belief?
Though tears don't come to cry some grief away,
The tears will help to keep your need at bay.

So come on now, come on now, child.
You're here just a while.
Come on now, come on now, child.
You're here just a while.

A mother told me just before she died
My mother told me just before she died,
"Oh darling, darling, don't you be like me.
You will fall in love with the very first man you meet."
But mother, mother, some will never know;
The love that you have is still holding my soul."

Aunt's visit

She opened her suitcase, and there was a bag full of goodies. Tea of the highest quality, nuts and delicious cookies, and a carefully wrapped and fragile item (which I have not yet opened) which my auntie hand carried and packaged so meticulously to bring to me and to gift me for having purchased my new condo. Later, she stuffed an envelop full of money and insisted I take it...
This is kindness, hospitality and genorosity only family members, and dare I say Taiwanese people, are able to show.

She had flown thousands of miles to Canada and brought me all these goodies knowing that I am here all by myself, far away from any family or close relative. She said the message I sent her, wishing her happy Mid Autumn Festival, moved her... I said I miss my family most of all on that day. And she felt she wanted and needed  to do something to make me feel I am not alone, and that there are still many at home who care about and think of me.

We went for a walk, and I led them through the university campus and up to my office building. They were impressed with the setting of my workplace (a really old mansion, antique walls and stained glass windows... really fancy and prestigeous looking...). When mum came, she too went to my office and met some of my colleagues back in 2011. And my auntie stood in my office, for a moment (and I managed to capture that moment on camera) she looked around and it was as if her eyes misted... Perhaps she was thinking of mum, thinking about how mum stood there in that same building barely three years ago...

We went to dinner, or at least she and a friend of hers insisted on taking me to dinner for I had not eaten and was waiting for them all evening to arrive at their hotel. We chatted more, catching up on life and reliving memories. All those trips! All those memories/mumories of travels with mum... funny stories, one or two I did not know till tonight (when mum was in the washroom at a train station, and a drunk barged into the washroom and was trying to kick in the door because he really had to go... it terrified my auntie, but mum did not realise what was all happening as she was inside a stall and busy...)... beautiful stories of trips we took together, of restaurants we went to together... of such wonderful times we had together... When mum was still around... when mum was still all smiles and had that energy, bore with her that kindness and warmth as she took my aunt and a friend of hers to places all over Europe... My aunt got misty eyed again as she spoke.... spoke about their childhood together (they are cousins), about how my mum really looked out for her. And I reminded her of how highly my mum spoke of her mum, for were it not for my auntie's mum, my mum probably would never have that opportunity to go to university and get a good job. All thanks to her mum, who offered to pay for after-school tuition so that my mum could get good grades and excel and in a way escape from the life my mum's stepmum wanted her to have (that of a simple housewife, for in the stepmum's eyes,  women need not study...)

I have been feeling somewhat down and missing mum a lot this past week or so, pretty much since the full moon on Mid Autumn Festival. That date is so special, the day when families come together and sit under the full moon... The sense of nostalgia and the longing for days and childhood gone by saddens and weakens me greatly. Seeing my auntie and reliving some of those memories helped, and I realised again how not alone I am for there are those who miss mum and her warmth and her presence still...

Floating Thoughts

"Where do we go from here?
This isn't where we intended to be..."

How it sucks when you develop feelings too quickly and are left wanting and with unfulfilled emotions...

The night before yesterday, I had a long and deep discussion with the nurse , and we kind of came to the conclusion that "whatever will be, will be". I don't know why, I suddenly woke up at 5ish in the morning and couldnt sleep , and at around 7 I got up to write a long and heartfelt email about how I felt. The rest of the day I felt exhausted, and like crap. Perhaps partyl because I did not quite get the response I was expecting... But what was I expecting? It was a polite reply of appreciation and akcknowledgement, nothing more . What else could or did I expect? As we had discussed, it was all too uncertain, and we were just beginning to know one another.

Even so, after our talk, after he described how he met his ex and that powerful magic he felt from the first moment they met, I felt whatever is between us seemed doomed and would not last... How do I compare with that apparent confidence other people seem to have? How do I feel good about myself in a way that others would appreciate me for who I am?

Again, in being with someone, I find myself questioning and doubting if I am good enough... Good enough to receive love, good enough to give love in return... Good enough to be loved, good enough to maintain a relationship and have that sense of stability and familiarity that I so much crave...

But I am not other people, I am my own person, with all my insecurities, warts and beauties... This is not a competition.

What is meant to be is meant to be. What cannot be will not be.

Three months...

My boss called me today at the office and spoke to me for a long time. He thanked me for the great work I did editing a paper, and also offered me opportunities for getting my name out there. Toward the end of the conversation, he suggested that I consider applying to the PhD programme again, something that due to politics and bias (and unprofessionalism on the part of a decision maker) I was rejected from earlier in May.

Do I go...?
Do I stay...?
What do I do?

I feel my mind filled with such nagging questions, and a growing sense of sadness and heaviness as the days toward my planned departure approach. I set December/January as a deadline for me to leave this place, to bid farewell to all that I have known for over 7 years so I can start life anew and fresh in my new condo. But  things are uncertain... I feel my mind in flux. I feel tired and demotivated. I feel I lack support and guidance, feel that I am again drifting and cast in doubt.

These feelings have been exacerbated by the fact that I met someone early September. A simple, innocent message has over the past three weeks or so (since that Labour Day night, 7 September) turned into several encounters and three occasions we could not be apart from one another for 30something hours... He's smart, beautiful, doing his PhD while being a nurse on the side... He's kind, compassionate, loving and most of all listens. It seemed like such a wonderful match, and we enjoy each other's company a lot (and we pretty much enjoy the same things in bed, which has always been a huge obstacle for me to be with someone for the long term.

But I am leaving. And just before we met for the first time, I told him, for  I did not want to hide or conceal anything from anyone, that I am leaving. I knew that would kill the buzz, would unseat hopes and stunt whatever feelings may grow, but he needed to know, and I told him.

Last night, we had a deep conversation about where we are going. We seem to care for one antoher and treasure one another;s company... but is that enough? Where are we going? Do you invest more time together, or just recngise that this may all be doomed and just try not get too attached? Can I even consider being "the other" after a few months ago his first long term *3 years) relationship ended because of long distance?

Last day of ghost month

The past two, three weeks have just been busy... Too busy to sleep much, to write much, to reflect much. A new term starting, preparations for a three day conference that ran into late last night, not to mention my regular job of editing. And somehow I squeezed time in last weekend to help a cousin move into and register for uni...

I went to bed exhausted last night, and for the first time in weeks did not set the alarm. But the fire alarm suddenly woke me up , making me run to shut it off (there was no smoke, let alone fire...)

I fell asleep and saw mum... we were taking a train somewhere in the Netherlands. It was so vivid, so clear. I was on the train with her, and we somehow ended up at the airport Schiphol. She went in with me, and it became clear at one point I was the one leaving. She was staying. We came across a chocolaterie, and I recommended that she buy some chocolates.. but as I was the one leaving, only I could buy it (this was inside the duty free area... I don't know how she was there, as she was not travelling). She was next to me... I could see her face, full of smiles, just as I remember her...

I woke up , and was close to clears.

I have not seen her or dreamt of her (or dad) for some time.
I do think of them, and dreams like this remind me how much I am missing them still.

Life continues, day after day, year after year... where am I going? What am I doing?
Just living, going about my life, at times without much thought or reflection.

Pre departure eruption

"I'm going up to sleep," I said, "take good care of yourself. You have two children now."

There was a silence. He looked at me, as if wanting to say something. But he said nothing. Brother sat in his chair in his corner of the living room, where he has sat for the past ten or so years every night, smoking his ecigarette, and leaning back on the arm chair.

"Ok", he said.

I was disappointed. The whole evening, I hung around the living room, hoping we could chat and catch up. But we did not. Instead, there was the awkward silence brought on in the aftermath of a feud, an ugly and fragile silence that made my stomach churn and feel so much like crying...

There was a huge, huge fight after a really pleasant dinner. All over a stupid driving incident in which he accusedd my sister-in-law of not stopping for a pedestrian, whereas she insists there were two at the crossing and he only saw the one that came after she had driven through  the crossing. They were shouting for at least 15 minutes. I sat in the floor pretending to do my suitcase. But how could I really? My nephew came to me once and sat he wants to take a bath... He looked at me and pulled at my clothes as my sister in law pounded the table and my brother raised his voice (I may be biased, but he is in his same old mode of all-I-say-is-right-and-you-are-wrong...)

Jacob ran upstairs, and I'm sure the relatives (my sisterinlaws family) felt so uncomfortable and quietly cringed (as I did) while they fought... At one point, one of the aunties came down and broke up the fight, saying you've all said what you needed to say, there is nothing else to say.

Throughout I felt like crying. It was so much like dad and mum when they used to have goes at one another , which always made me want to disppear and not have to listen or experience all this... It always made me wonder why people cannot get along... Why is it so difficult to get along?

And I felt horrible for the children, my nephew and my little niece who is barely a month old. My nephew came downstairs to draw on his chalkboard, and he drew a head with eyes and dots below the eyes "mama cry cry" he said. It broke my heart... I took a picture of that moment...
Childrens' hearts and emotions are ever so fragile....

Brother and I said nothing more after that fighting. I'm leaving in a few hours. A week stay is almost at an end, and what an ending it is...

How I wish it could be more different. But alas nothjng ever really is

Reunion

It wasn't all because of the wind in my face that I felt tears flowing from the corners of my eyes while I biked down the path towars the beach, a route I'd taken hundreds of times living at the family-home turned brother's family home. My nephew peddaled fast in front of me , while my brother peddaled ahead on his own bike.

We were heading for an evening ice cream ("ijsje" as my nephew would call it...), and the setting sun, the route reminded me so much of the way things were. The bike I was riding on was one mum bought some years ago. It has now been transformed and has a baby seat in the back and a black basket up from for groceries. Mum would have been so happy being there. Mum would have been so at ease seeing us bike together, felt so proud of her little grandson's speed and determined look on the four-year-old's face... Mum would have been so proud to hold little precious Brianna Alison , named after her, in her arms like I did earlier that evening.

So fragile, so strong, so small yet so very beautiful. She is weak yet strong willed, her featured are all still forming, yet in the depths of her eyes you can seen curiosity and wonder. My relatives ( sister-in-law's relatives) say there is something that reminds them of mum... I don't see it yet, but I know mum would have been so proud, so overjoyed to hold a girl in her arms. She always wanted a baby girl , and here she is...

Funnily enough, my nephew calls himself and would rather be a "big sister" because he wants to be like a girl in his class who takes care of her younger brother... He doesn't yet understand that he can never be really be a big sister to his little sister... But he kisses her, goes to see her and touch her gently... The sweetest thing...

Poor Meanou...

I went to see Meanou, twice again, once in the morning, once in the evening.
He purred as soon as he saw me. The vet said he wouldn't purr at all, and was surprised he had the energy to purr.

He knows me, recognises me. Such a sweet and loving cat who is so full of love, and sadly so full of glucose his body doesn't know what to do with it and so is shutting down... He is more awake today, but still not eating much, if at all. In the evening, I held out a few dry kibbles and he ate from my hand. But that was that. He needs to eat more, otherwise cats tend to develop what is called "fatty liver" whereby the liver converts fat into energy, something that the cat's body is not designed to do and can be fatal if the condition continues.

I heard right yesterday, 30-35% chance of survival over the next few days, and the vet repeated it again to me. I did not really dare to tell my friend, for he would (and did...) break out in tears. I've managed to keep calm, but deep down I feel so conflicted and, just like thos moments with mum in the hospital when the doctor tells me the worst possible news and the low chances of recovery, I seem to be in automatic mode and just do not show much emotion.... I have not had the chance, I do not think, to fear or to imagine the worst or to imagine that he would no longer be there. I do not have that chance. Just as I never had that chance, that luxury when I was going back and forth between the hospital to see mum back then, just as I am going back and forth to see Meanou twice a day for the past two days now...

I am conflicted... for I feel such pity and compassion for the poor little (big!) furball, I feel such love, love that I did not realise I had for him until he fell so ill, and I feel such guilt too. Again, had I been more careful, paid more attention to him and not assumed that he was just suffering from heat or drinking a lot because of the summer, then I would have caught the signs and sent him to the vet much quicker than allowing him to languish like this and drift between the doors of life and death...
One more day, the vet said, and he would have easily died.

But the vet also reassured me that there was a cat who stayed hospitalised and under surveillance for 10 days and things became under control. And the cat lived for another seven years... May this be the case with Meanou...?

May it please be the case with Meanou.

There is so little I can do, and in the face of illness and in the face  of death , we puny human beings are so humbled and diminished to helplessness and dread... What can I do, what more can I do but provide him with/ make sure he has the best treatment there is and that he is cared for by professional vets and technicians (they have been so supportive and friendly... bless them...) ? What can I do except stroke his fur and rub his head and the length of his neck to reassure him that he is loved and cared for? All I can do is be there and visit as much as I can to show him that he is loved and that there is a reason for him to eat, to keep on fighting and to fight for his life.

I hope cats understand that... I look at his eyes, look into his soulful eyes, and I see a living, thinking and conscious being that is afraid, that loves, that remembers and has feelings just as any other human being has.

I pray and hope Meanou is at ease and not in too much pain...

pet hospital

I managed to get an earlier appointment instead of the 350pm one. Meanou, the big cat, still wasn't looking too well. He lay more or less in the same spot the whole night, by the door, on a foot mat. At one point, I grabbed a big cushion and lay down next to him and slept like that for a few hours, afraid that he may wake up and start convulsions or whatever serious symptoms... I woke up tired, exhausted, and with a sore back . He still did not stir or purr...

My other kitty, Sutty, is looking at me as I write this. Does she know the other cat is gone? Is her pacing up and down and meowing because she is searching for her companion for the past six, seven months...? We can only wonder what our furry friends are thinking...

As I looked into Meanou's eyes as he lay there on the vet's examination table, I felt such guilt... Was he looking at me and thinking "How did you let this happen to me?" Was he thinking "What did I do to you? I've been a sweet cat all this time..."  I felt more guilty that he lost his purr, that he lost the ability to even move his head and his limbs. All he could do was wag his tail, but only just a little bit... Did he know what was happening to him?


I stroked his face, stroked his body. Whereas normally he would purr, he did not this time. I haven't heard him purr in the last 48hrs, which should have been a sign for he is a purrer who gets easily purry upon touch. It was heartaching to see such a sweet creature just lie there, motionless, with his eyes half open, no quite sleeping, but also not quite awake either.


I waited in the  vet's room for almost an hour, stroked his body softly and placed my face on his back, silently wishing he would get better, get stronger. It seemed like a grueling process and wait period from the moment the vet took his blood sample to when he returned with the diagnosis.

The first few words were a relief, shattering what he had said earlier about perhaps having to make a "choice". That word "choice" made me weak and sick and feel all the more guilty... Who was I, if I had to, to decide the fate of another creature again? I did that with my previous cat, and in a way, I had to do that with my own mother.... and now again with Meanou? There is no heavier burden than to wield that power and being forced to make a choice. That in itself is not a choice anyone would wish to have a choice to make...

It wasn't a matter of choice under the circumstances. The vet diagnosed him with elevated levels of glucose, almost triple the normal amount. In short, Meanou has Diabetes, Type II, developed almost certainly from his obesity. This could only mean that his pancreas was not functioning properly and that his little (or rather, quite large) body is not producing enough insulin to break down all that sugar. So he loses energy, loses weight, and many other organs like the liver and even the brain when it gets to the extreme point, are starved of energy. Luckily it did not get to that point, the point of convulsions and seizures, but he was close, the vet said.

He needs to stay at the hospital for 3-5 days, for monitoring, for treatment. These are crucial days, if he makes it, he will be fine. Not like kidney disease or failure, for it is certainly fatal in the long term (within a month), but with pancreatic illness, the issue can be treated, and if the cat responds to the treatment, he will survive and can lead a happy, purry life under a good diet. But these coming days will be touch and go...

I went home, without Meanou, and as soon as I entered the house, the other cat walked into the corridor. I've gotten used to, without really realising it, two cats welcoming me home. It felt strange with just one. In the air was the stench of his urine, he was peeing much more than before, which I thought was just because he was drinking much more than before due to the Summer heat. Little did I know, drinking a lot and peeing a lot (at times, even outside of the litter box) were classic symptoms of diabetes. Indeed, the pee would be so sticky and large clumps of litter would form, making it hard to clean. Once I caught him in the act and peeing outside the box and I got so upset I slapped him... Now I know it is not his fault... His body was giving signs that there was something wrong. As I looked into his eyes, I felt these pangs of guilt.  I was negligent... I didn't pay more attention to his peeing habits and just assumed with clean litter , food and fresh water, he would be fine. And look at what happened...

I went back to see Meanou in the evening, the pet hospital being around half an hour away on foot. The vet called me just as I was walking there, and told me he started to lie on his chest, which is a good sign, for before he could barely even lift his own head. When I saw him, he looked more alert, yet he also looked so sad and tired... He had a bowl of food but he did not seem to touch it at all.
The doctor explained carefully what they had done and what treatment Meanou was getting. I listened and felt so grateful that at least there were signs of improvement, and that the vet was so professional and doing their best. I looked at the IV drip and bags of saline solution and tubes leading to Meanou's body... A flashback back to the hospital with my mum.

The feelings of worry, fear, anxiety and stress over the unknown flowed through me. In the hospital, waiting and praying a loved one would be ok, listening to the doctor explain my loved one's condition... how many times have I experienced this? How many times have I gone through this?

I spent some time alone with Meanou... stroked his head and body. He was not very responsive, still not purring. The vet said diabetic shock induces a form of dizziness that makes the cat (or human being) disoriented and lose sense of what is really happening. He probably did not recognise, and just looked down at the bowl of his food, sniffed it and did not eat it. Maybe he did not have the energy to even eat...

But eat he must. Eat he must to get better, eat he must without throwing up to gain strength again and beat this lure of falling even more into critical and toward death...

I sit in my living room, while I imagine Meanou in the cage at the hospital. There is a technician there all the time, which is a good thing, as he is at least being monitored. But I do worry... the worst is not over yet. Tomorrow is another day.

I just hope and pray, hope and pray he will be ok...

I should have really cared more for him. Will I have another chance to care for him again?

At the vet

Sick cat

I really feel my heart heavy and like crying. Meanou, the second cat I got, has been lying on the floor for the most part of the past 24hrs. He doesn't move, he just lies there... Not like his normal self, he though lies there because he is a lot bigger (on the obese side...) but who would at least paw around and play with me when I poke him and lean in close. Most of all, he would purr and purr, like a machine. He would purr and purr for that is his iconic symbol.

But now he purrs no more. He just lies there, his eyes glassy and his face tired. When I stroke him, he doesn't respond, whereas before he would stir and start purring like the sweet being he is.

The vet warned me he has a risk of renal/kidney disease, and that this should be followed up when I visited the vet with him back in May. But I just assumed that drinking a lot, and peeing a lot, were signs that he is hot because it is now high summer , and not typical signs of kidney failure / disease.

Poor cat, who just got up and wobbled as he walked into the bath tub to drink, and drink some more. He must be so thirsty! He must be suffering and wondering what is wrong with him...

I feel this mixture of anxiety, worry, fear, much like that mix of feelings I felt when I knew Kittys life was coming to an end. and I feel dread and guilt... Yes, guilt.

He's been under my care for six, seven months, and now? So sick, perhaps even dying...?
I look at him deep in his green eyes, and he looks back. Does he blame me? Does he fault me?
Does he lament me, perhaps even question whether I should have done more and cared about him more...?


The vet told me to pay attention to his drinking and peeing. And I just focused on his weight, afraid because as the vet said, obesity can cause a myriad of conditions that will shorten his life. I managed to get his weight down, but neglected his kidneys, unaware perhaps all that drinking, peeing, and more and more peeing outside the litter box were typical signs of kidney problems developing....

I pray he is not suffering too much... I feel such a heavy burden. A life perhaps disappearing because of me. Could I have done more? Could I have prevented things if I had been more careful, more attentive and looked for the signs?

Meanou... hang on there.

I am sorry you are suffering...

New baby

My niece, not yet born, was supposed to arrive almost two weeks ago. But to date, she is still hanging around in my sister-in-law's big belly.

Almost two weeks late, and the doctor said they are going to induce the birth. They did that yesterday. I'm not sure what the details are, but it is projected she should/will be born today. It is 7am in Europe now...

any minute, any moment perhaps...

May it be a successful birth, may mother and child be healthy and well...

Memory

The other night as I was sitting in my condo flooor (not much furniture yet...) An image, a memory popped into my mind...

It was a few weeks after mum bought that home in the Netherlands, it was 1998. September, or October it must have been, the season for terrible storms and rainfall. It rained for days, and someone , probably my brother discovered that the ceiling of the small bedroom was damp in one corner of the room. And that damp soon became a leak.

Mum's , I could see, became distraught. Brother and I rushed out into the rain to inspect the source of the leak... We secured a piece of plastic to divert the flow of the rainwater so it wouldn't go into the walls. That temporarily eased the dampness and flooding.

That night, I saw mum kneeling on the floor of that bedroom, praying to the gods for the problem to go away... Praying perhaps that it is not such a big problem. The next day or so it stopped raining.

That image of mum kneeling on the floor praying will stick with. It brings a tear to my eye to see that before me now... Mum on the floor. I stood quielty behind her and felt so touched. Did I also kneel and pray behind her? I forget. But that moment showed a mother's love, and that deep deep care and worry she felt having bought a place for my brother and I to live in and becoming so distraught knowing that the house leaks...

The leakage was fixed a few months later, at great cost. We had to ask dad to transfer a lot of money for that repair. Between that first leak and the roof being repaired, there were many nights I am sure mum could not sleep easy. Even the ceiling of my bedroom began to become damp and leak. I would at times use a basket to collect the water. My bed and duvet would become damp and have white flakes of paint on them. Mum left to go back to Taiwan shortly after that. That was the start of me living alonex the start of our separation.

I miss mum... I miss dad...

I have a condo now. My first home.
And now I wish my parents could be there to share my joy, to share my memories like these, to share my pride, to share my pain.

Flowers

I wasn't sure what to say when my friend told me that his mother, who's been doing chemo, is not doing so well. Just feeling nausea, sick and much tougher as the treatment progresses.

My mind conjured that horrible image of a frail patient will sunken eyes and thin cheeks, criss crossed the with the image I have of the mother , whom I saw in person about a month or so ago. How she must be feeling... How my friend must be feeling...!

Do you ask more questions to express concern and care? Or do you quietly wait for the other to tell you more details? I'm not sure... But as my friend told me how unwell his mother is, the first thought that came to my mind was get her flowers.

Flowers can say so much... Flowers can really brighten someone'S day, even when the days are grueling and terrible to bear...
I sent her some a few months ago , and she absolutely loved the forsias and said the fragrance filled the house.

Anything... Anything to lighten up the mood, to distract and make life and living a little more bearable , just that little push toward getting better again , helps.

At least I think so. I know so.
May those flowers, the fragrance and colours brighten her day tomorrow...

Cancer is tough, oh so tough.
May cancer patients have the strength and will to go on and have that gentle calm to cope with the effects of this tiring battle...

New beginning

Sitting on the floor of the new condo in downtown Toronto. I didn't think this day would come so soon. The view from my balcony, of the CN tower, of the crowd of skyacrappers and dazzling lights, is spectacular. I feel excited, and also breathless. 

I am a home owner now. First time buyer and home owner.

There isn't much in terms of furniture. I'm just here to collect the keys and haven't moved in officially yet. That day will come later in the year. Today, a friend helped me take some essentials to just set up. And we drove the six or so hours from Montreal to Toronto. I slept a bit in the car  , had to as I only slept two hours the night before trying to finish off a deadline. The weather was hot and sunny, and everything went so smoothly. The lawyer called at around 230pm and said the deal finally closed and that I could pick up my keys. I did, along with a bunch of papers.

And then I went to pick up the foldable mattress, the one I used to sleep on whenever I stayed with mum, 

the one that has so many memories of those tumultulous times when she was doing treatment... I'm sleeping on the same mattress tonight, the first night in my new condo.

I say quietly admiring the city and the empty apartment. What will it look like in the future? I have some renovation work planned, I have furniture and appliances to buy. I know what I want...

And all I can think, as happy as I am, is how much I wish mum and dad were here to see me in this condo, how much I wish they could be here right now and stay just one night and experience this special first night with me...

I wrote to my uncle and sent him some pictures. I told him how excited I am, yet also how grateful I am that because of mum and dad's sacrifices and hard work, I have all this and can live with relatively little worry now and can live so comfortably..

New condo... Here is to a bright new beginning and farewell to the past. 

Dream... death of my cat

I went out and came home late last night (upset, as the friend I was supposed to share a taxi with ditched me and went home with another after I'd been waiting for him for over an hour...), so I decided to take an afternoon nap.

Just as I was getting into bed, my two cats for some reason started to fight fiercely on the arm chair. It was horrible! I've never seen them like that before, biting, scratching, screaming, refusing to let go of one another. I shouted at them, and ran toward them to break them up, chasing after each cat and hit them on their backs so they know it's wrong. But they continued to chase after one another and bite one another. I had to pull them apart and separate them... what a fierce fight, like nothing I have ever seen.

I napped and dreamt... I saw the two cats wounded and hurt, there were big bloody bruises on both cats, and their fur was matted with dried blood. They looked sorry, and were whimpering. I picked up my female cat, the little one I've had for over six years now, and she lay like a baby in my arms. She closed her eyes, and stopped moving...

I was so distraught and couldn't stop crying. I howled and frantically, in the dream, tried to shake her to 'shake' her awake. But she died there and then in my arms.

I woke up, and felt such pain of loss and pain of losing someone so dear I have not felt since losing mum. I had tears in the corners of my eyes. I couldn't bear it and felt suffocated...

What intense dream...

Cancer, cancer all around...

The other day, a friend I have not met for some time and I were talking, and we recounted some of the things that have happened over the past few years. It has been a decade since we first met, and how much has happened in both our lives, and how we have been there to support one another through difficult and memorable times.

She was there when I got the phone call from my mother, who sounded so distraught and asked me to go home. Dad was in intensive care, and I rushed home. I remember just before I left and said goodbye to her, we stood by the tramtracks in The Hague. She shed tears in a show of compassion, and we hugged so tightly. I returned home and dad passed a day later.

Little did I know that would be the start of the "cancer era"-- a period lasting now over 8 years in which I have been so affected by people around and in my life who have been afflicted with cancer. My own mother, who struggled till three years ago... and two of my relatives, close friends, the mother of a friend, more recently the mother of another close friend...

"It seems like you have been given a gift,"my friend told me. Gift in the sense I am able to cope with cancer and all that it brings. It affects me deeply, but I am somehow able to stand still and strong and offer support and care to so many around me. (more recently, I detoured on my travels to visit the mother of a friend and that seemed to give her much comfort and support...). Of course, in all of this, I am but a bystander. Yet, in experiencing cancer from a distance , I have gained skills and know a lot more about side effects, getting better and stronger, and most of all am able to offer that emotional support that others do not necessarily have. That is the gift. The gift of compassion, of "suffering with" (Mitleid /  medeleven) that you must experience in order to offer. It is extremely powerful, and in a way, I am blessed with it.

As I was speaking to the lawyer who is involved in closing the condo purchase, somehow the conversation drifted to the topic of cancer. She sounded tired, and looked so exhausted and frail, and she reveiled her father has been battling cancer for over 8 years. It is getting worse... cancerous sores on the skin, on the arms, and they have been in and out of hospital so often that she just feels physically sick hearing that word "hospital". We spoke, and she lamented how she is haunted by all this and has trouble sleeping, how she is afraid of losing the father for they are so close, inseparable.
She spoke of how she has felt distant toward friends and people who have no idea, absolutely no idea, how it is to deal with illness and death. 





I listened and emphathised. Sometimes all you need to do is listen. And as you are listening, you feel the goosebumps and that warmth deep inside because you know exactly how that feels... maybe not exactly because feelings are so personal and so unqiue, but you know you have a much better understanding than others and that in those feel moments, the suffering, pain and desperatation of another fellow human being is being echoed and reflected back. It is the universe's way of connecting people who are like-minded and bringing them together to make them collectively stronger.

At the end of the conversation, I gave her a long, big hug. It may have seemed inappropriate for it was our first encounter and we had never met before (only spoken on the phone) . But it was most appropriate. It was more powerful and meaningful than words could ever express or say.

Toronto awaits

On my way to Toronto again, second time in a week. Only a one day trip, and in a few days I'll be back again. Today is just to meet to lawyer (well, just... It's very important!) and sign the key documents and transfer of title. And more importantly, give the bankers draft containing the down payment to the lawyer for her to hold in trust until next Monday when the deal closes. And the house is mine. Finally mine after almost six weeks since we started this entire process.

As I entered the airport just now, I heard this sound... The sound of an announcement about to be made. It made me think of mum suddenly... Made me think of dad... Made me think of that time when I took mum to Trudeau Airport and sent her on her way to Europe, in style, in business class. I knew, behind my apparent smiles, that it would most likely be the last time ever she would visit me in Canada. But , by the grace of the universe, it was such a beautiful visit filled with adventures, memories and fine experiences... Whaling in the St Laurent, riding the Rockie Mountaineer, lounging in the Fairmont, canoeing on Lake Louise... I raced to the river side park at the end of the run way and I waited for her plane to take off. I cried, partly from joy, partly from that sense of loss and longing, for I knew somehow that would be the last time I would ever see mum in Canada...

How fortunate I am to be able to shuttle between cities, board a flight whenever I wish and to pop in and out and do what I need to do and finalise my first home. Everything seems to be going so smoothly, so as I wished (...I just hope that bankers draft is lying there in the bank branch as I hope it would!!) How fortunate I am to be here, to be able to do what I wish without worry, without too much concern...

My colleague and I were speaking yesterday about how we first met as classmates back in 2008. He said I hardly smiled, he said he thought I was an angry and unapproachable person. And he saw he saw the pictures of my graduation were so terrible, for I looked so dreadful. Surrounded by people who had come from so far away to celebrate and congratulate me, yet I looked so miserable...

Indeed, how heavy I have felt for so long, how weighed down by life , illness and death for so long, and tried to make the most of things, tried so hard to get by and make sense of the unknown and the constant fear of loss and trying to overcome loss (of dad). My friend now understands why I did not smile, why it is I looked so miserable. Behind every face, behind every person is a story.

And mine is laden with struggles to deal and make sense of illness and death, loss and departures. Now I am standing strong, standing stronger than I have ever been for the past seven years or so (since 2008, the year dad passed and mum started intense treatment).

It looks beautiful out the window, almost completely clear blue sky, pristine lake and waters, beautiful wooded areas and building popping into view.

Toronto awaits.

Reflections

In life , you must ask yourself whether what you do, what you say, what you think are really what you should be doing, saying and thinking. We must always, as humble human beings, pause and reflect. We are not born full of sin, as some choose to believe, but neither are we blameless or flawless. For we are all human.

So when someone says to you you have changed, you have become a different person, it is cause for reflection. How have I changed? How different am I now from who I was? All things , all people change... But is it to be better, to be more spiritual, be more human, or is it to be more self absorbed and conceited?

These are questions that you should always ask yourself. At the end of the day, it is your conscience you have to sleep with, it is your conscience you have to wake up to...

Can you live with yourself? Really, can you live with your own decisions, with the things that you have done and said? Can you honestly sleep peacefully and know that you are an honest and kind (not just nice for the sake of being nice!) person?

Reflect on this.
Sleep on this.
And do not let what others say about you or to you cast doubt on your very being.

Because you are who you are. And at the end of the day you must live with who you are.

Becoming uncle second time

I called my brother yesterday and spoke to him and my sister in law. She looked so healthy and gloat, and is heavily pregnant. Expected due date is today, but the day came and went without news. The only news I did get was a sudden Skype message from her, which sent me overjoyed as soon as I saw it over lunch , only to be dampened by the fact it was just to ask me to buy certain baby products

How exciting a new life is about to come out of a mothers womb... How miraculous, how beautiful... A new life about to beginthe circle of life about to start all over again.

I don't know how she will be, ecdpt that she's a she...
I do wish her much beauty, joy and peace and wish her all the love and warmth for all her time on this world 

Changes

How do people change so much?
From friends to lovers? From lovers to heartbreakers? From two people trying to mend broken dreams to two people who seem to be irritated at the other person for whatever reason?

How do we change so quickly? What happened to that love, that fondness, that intimacy and the smiles we used to have whenever we would see each other?

It is so sad when a love affair dies, when two people who were once best friends and inseparable seem unable to stand one another. It is so sad, really breaks my heart, to be spoken to and treated like everything I say can be dismissed as nonsense and fantasy, or worse words of someone who has emotional or mental problems.

But there comes a point, a point when enough is enough, when all the signs and friends around you suggest that a relationship with another person is no longer worth it and that life is much lighter, much less treading on eggshells or choosing your words very carefully and more about protecting your own dignity and sanity.

After five days in Australia

Australia, over the past five days or so, has been great. The people are super nice, approachable, welcoming (and Aussie boys are so hot...!), and the general atmosphere is just very pleasant. I'm so fortunate to have been asked to come here, and glad, despite the initial fear and reluctance at speaking in public, it has been such a plesant experience. The teachers came up to me today, and told me what a superb teacher I am, honestly. Lack of confidence? Nonesense! They seemed to love my lectures and found them engaging and stimulating , and said that (somehow) there is a lot of thought and structure put into it. What a boost of confidence that made me blush...

Right now, in a two storey building from the 1970s or so, in the middle of really nowhere, in a town called Woomera- the Roswell of Australia. because of this course I was invited to take part in, I have the unique opportunity to take part in a tour to the prohibited zone where weapons and secret technologies are being tested. In the earlier years, 1950-80s, this was the site of ultra secretive installations for space monitoring and satellite control, a collaborative effort between western countries.

The landscape is just barren, the outback, the bush, that expands for as far as the eye can see... Scorched , parched red earth that is so hostile to life and that holds only low bushes and shrubs. A territory that stretches larger than much of continental Europe...

This is barren earth, this is undiscovered country that is untamed and wild, and presents opportunities abound for a new future...

Would I want to move here? Start a new life here?

Quandong

Mango chutney

Chilly sauce

Leaving taiwan

On the plane now, slowly taxiing toward the runway. Sitting in the exit row window seat that I had to fight for (#sqsucks), had to depart 4hrs earlier than I planned because the airline said there's a risk of me missing my connection if I had only an hour. Very upsetting and a waste of my time, and the airline finally relented after ten email exchanges.

Sunny, beautiful day. Leaving Taiwan... What a speedy trip, five nights and six days. So many people I have seen, so many places I have been. Most important of all, I went to see mum and offered prayers and food to her as promised. I was extremely touched that people took the time on a Saturday to join me in remembering mum, and many brought food and offerings to make the ceremony more festive.

There were moments when I teared up, particularly as my aunt, whom I asked to prepare most of the food (...though she didn't do such a great job; most things were bought, which I thought was very cheap for such a special day...), told me about their childhood and growing up. They have a stepmother, who was mean to them and preferred her own children. Mum was always very obedient, whereas my aunt more defiant and would even talk back to the stepmother (thus my step-grandmother , I would guess, though I still treat her with respect and call her grandma...) I heard stories from mum about how they would tiptoe and steal food that the stepmother would give only to her own children... I heard from mum that the stepmother would twist their eye lids (extremely painful!) as punishment, and once told her that women need not study and only need to get married and serve at home. Mum defied her and studied, with the help of her aunt, who put mum through cram school with her own daughter (mum's younger cousin whom mum adored and traveled with many times...) Hence mum is eternally grateful to this aunt of her, and somewhat distant with her stepmother (but still respectful...).

My aunt spoke of how she and mum and another sister of mum's (they were three girls) were so close and do everything together... After mum graduated, she went to work for the government and got her first job at a town created for the civil service. My aunts would visit, my aunt said while we journeyd to Taipei and toward the ceremony on the train, and mum would take them out and treat them to wonderful things...

My aunt said that initially she wasnt into dad all that much, and was more into her first love... But her dad opposed it because it was a sailor who would be away out at sea long periods of time... Mum married dad, I learned before and my aunt said again, because dads writing was so moving and he had such a gift with words he kept on writing and word her that way. They got married , moved to the big city Taipei to work, had my brother , had me, and the rest is history... My aunt said dad was so kind to her, and my aunt stayed with them for some time while she was working in the big city as a department store saleswoman...

I teared up hearing about parts of mum's life in review. "So kind she was, so compassionate..." my aunt said , "and she left so early..." Mum certainly was all those things and more, and she left before her time, before I had a chance to really stand up and succeed. I gave her my time, spent as much time as I could with her. I tell myself, and told her till her dying day, she has no regrets... She's seen the world, enjoy wonderful delights and delightful experiences.

Same city, different times

I walked around the streets of Taipei, the same streets I've frequented for years, the same streets I frequented when my mind was so filled with worry and woe, then later when my heart was heavy with grief and longing after the passing of dad and particularly mum. Now the streets are just streets, and I feel lighter, I feel as if I were just being, just breathing and walking.

No, the longing is still there, the memories at times still fresh and wells me up (tearing) , but less strong, less forceful now. Three years after mum's passing, I am standing, breathing, walking and wandering around the streets of Taipei like a different person now. It was , and it felt like, such a dream!

How this city has grown and matured with the years, how I have grown and moved forward throughout the years. The streets seem paved with memory... The restaurant next to the 228 Park where mum would take me after a long day at work (at the time in Shindian) and when it see me pointless to go home when dad wasn't even coming home (she had vouchers and could get the special meals, often fresh streamed fish or some other kind of home cooking... The plum tea shop at the corner of the street where she would always stop at on a hot day... The coffee shops where she and her cousin and good friend would sit and talk about their trips overseas... The camera shop where she would take me to to bargain and buy a camera (the last of which I lost on the plane a month or so after she bought me my last one back in 2010...)... The stores we frequented together, the places we walked side by side together. Dear mum, how I miss her still, and will continue to miss her for the rest of my life.

I walked around the park and a thought came to my head... I had this image of walking with my child, and having to stop for a moment to collect myself while I teared up telling my child how his/her grandma used to take me there as a child...

A long day that started at 530, and involved a trip from all the way down south to Taipei to meet up with relatives before heading to the mountains. The ceremony went smoothly, though not exactly as I expected. I had no where I could cook and make my special dishes for mum, so I had to make do and ask my aunt (her youngest sister) to step in and prepare the meals...

Spiritual guidance

"Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace.
I dream at night, I can only see your face.
I look around but it's you I can't replace.
...

Every move you make
Every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I'll be watching you.

Every move you make
Every step you take
I'll be watching you..."

Doubts , such doubts I had, doubts like grey and heavy clouds lingering over an otherwise tranquil and seemingly perfect scenery. And now the clouds  have cleared.

I met up with the Taoist master , mum's trusted guide who can communicate with the deceased, and so many questions were answered. The decisions I've had to make, mainly alone, over the past few weeks (particularly buying a house) and the doubts I had regarding my work and future career...

Mum still cares deeply, and is concerned about me. The love and concern of a mother transcends dimensions and realms of existence. She was there, the master said, when I went to see the house that second time. She was there. She was there as I was inspecting the walls, the windows, the the finishing... She was there when I wandered the condo and imagined my new life there in a place I can call my own. He said he recognised it immediately from the picture (even before I showed him the pics, he saw the triangular shape of my corner unit).

Love beyond this world

In the movie Interstellar, a father trapped in another dimension, another realm of existence, frantically tries to get the message across the universe to his dear, beloved daughter that he is still around, still living her, still caring and thinking about her from afar. For the longest time, she faced his departure when she was still so young with anger, disbelief and resentment.

Why did the dearest person in a child's life have to go...? Why did a child's hero, guardian angel and confidante have to be so cruelly plucked away...? As she grew older, slowly she began to see there is a reason for everything. Every word, every sign, every encounter and thought, every intuition and fear has a meaning.  Slowly the pieces and bits of life come together and begin to somehow make sense. Slowly, somehow the memories of days passed, the premonitions of the future to come, and the present here and now all merge like streams flowing into the boundless ocean of existence.

The father's been gone a long, long time, and for most he might as well be dead. But love does not die, does it? A long, long time is nothing to love. Love knows no time, no space, no boundaries. It is so powerful its strength cannot be measured, quantified or captured by years, equations or words. Love transcends and pervades all that we can ever know, and much, much more, in the universe. Love is when you catch yourself so tenderly clutching onto a cup the long lost loved one once drank out of. Love is in that smile when you retrace the footsteps left behind in a familiar place at a different time. Love is in the smell of items of clothing long not worn, in that warm thought triggered by the sight of a momento, in the yellowing pages of a photo album which are now stored awei in boxes and in the depths of your memory. Love is expressed in those tears that well up when close your eyes and feel this aching longing flood and choke your insides...

Sometimes, I imagine mum (and dad) have gone on a journey. I said goodbye to mum three years to the day now. I left her a little note telling her to be well and to journey forth steadily. I promised her I would live well and make her and dad proud...

Though gone a long , long time, they are still around, thinking of me, just as I think of them, loving and caring about me, just as I love and care about them from a realm I cannot fathom, cannot see. It seems so much easier to think this wei, easier because how else can you escape that deep, deep void, which, like a black hole sucks seems to  consume everything, even time and space and the light of youth and life?

Mum's not really gone but have just left this world, one that in my mind is infinitely better. She graduated, left this state of being, this life of suffering, greed and delusion, and is now in a better place free from pain, free from anguish and sorrow and the afflictions of being human.

How do I know if she is alright...? How do I find her again...?

She lives in me, through me, and for as long as I live, her existence and memoriesand memories of her, may fade with time but will never cease.

The last time I gazed at the sea was a week or so earlier, the tranquil Pacific which is now the backyard of my parents' final resting place. How pensive, saddened by the memories of anniversary  I was that day, and how calm inside I was today. The ferocious sea below contrasted greatly with that strange calm and rare glimpse of contentment I felt inside. The world, finally, felt at ease, at peace, after seemingly countless years filled with upheaval, uncertainty and losses. For once, again in that rare moment when things just felt alright, I realised the meaning of how the world is only so much, nothing less, nothing more. Sorrow is only so much, joy is only so much. Life is only so much, and death, death at the end of the day, and with the passage of time, is really only so much. 

Train southbound

I look out the window and watch another town, another city flashes by in streams of light. With no particular object in gaze, my mind drifts and wanders... And I suddenly see my own reflection in the window. Is that me? Is that me now? Have I aged and mellowed with the years? How long has it been...?

On the high speed train southbound, an or so an hour or so after arrival. Tired, but not overly so, at least not yet. For the first time ever, I'm heading to the monastery in the mountains as the first thing I'm doing after arriving here. Where else would I go? A hotel? A friend's or relative's place? It feels strange, it does, but how fortunate I am to be welcomed somewhere, where they are expecting me with open arms.

Start of a quick four day trip, leaving Sunday bound for Australia. Before that, I still have three lectures to prepare for, and a ceremony that I still need to plan and coordinate.

Everything seems to be happening so fast I can hardly make sense of it all.

Brief stop in the UK

Just finished with a whirlwind visit to my friend's parents. At first I thought it would be awakes, but turned out to be quite lovely. Nice conversation over a traditional English roast dinner (Yorkshire pudding, peas, gravy and all!), and we continued after dinner into the night, till after 11 before hitting the sack.

Conversation centred around travels, wonderful  experiences and grievances overseas, and of course landed on dealing with illness and loss. Those years with mum really taught me a lot, things that cannot be learned in books but life experiences have added such depth and understanding of how to cope and react in times of distress and helplessness. It is a gift, in a way, one learned through tears and much pain at times, but a gift of experience that I am so happy to pass on to those who are going through the toils treatment.

There were moments I observed her silently. Behind the natural wrinkles and spots of old age was a human being trying to deal with a harsh reality, one that till just a few months ago was unthinkable. "Why me?" She said, as would many cancer patients having to deal with the emotional toll that more often is weightier than the physical. "Ive always been so well, never sick..." Yet our bodies, our fates, our lives are always changing and never predictable. What if it were me? How would I cope with it? Would I be so calm and collected as I am facing the illness of people who have succumbed to cancer around me? The dad admitted to me as he took me to the airport station later that it has been hard dealing with the emotional reality.

I brought liquid propolis spray , thinking that perhaps my friend's mum would be getting sores on the insides of her cheeks after treatment. Sure enough, she said she started feeling some aches in the middle of the night, and the spray seems to help immensely.

In the morning, I saw strands of hair in the washroom, and earlier the mother spoke about her fear of losing her hair. I remember it was one of the great fears and sources of distress for mum, and my mind flashed back to memories of me frantically sweeping the floor when she's not watching so she doesn't see she's losing hers (luckily, in a sense, she never lost it all, it only thinned somewhat). Hair is for women, in particular, such a defining characteristic of womanhood.

As I said goodbye, I kissed her on the cheeks and wished her well. I would have wanted to give her a hug, but then would have to overcome that British awkwardness with showing too much emotions.

I wish the words could do more, say more than the mere words of "take good care".

In London

In London

Arrived after a six hour flight on BA. Though the plane was (relatively) new and one of the staff particularly friendly, I was unimpressed. The seats were cramped (granted, I was seated in the very sat row), cabin looked aged and dirty, as were the toilets), and the food was just basic and sad... What a great disappointment for an airline that seems to be so iconic and brand itself as posh and classy.

At least I slept a bit, almost right up to  landing. And in the spare moments I was awake, I wrote the letter I've been intending to write to mum.

An emotional one, for this is am emotional trip, one marking the end of the cycle of three years after passing that is so important for the soul of the departed. I told her about the house I bought not so long ago, news of which very few, and only the trusted few, know. I told her how I've progressed from the rock bottom of grief and mourning to stand up (somewhat) y'all again, three years on, and getting on with work, with teaching and recognised by my colleagues as capable and trustworthy. I hoped that she and dad are proud of me and what I've become...

There were intense moments I was so close to tears. But at the same time, the tiredness and stress about the lectures in the coming week is dampening my moods and making me feel more stressed and frustrated than emotional.

I made a quick transit through central London, took the underground to King's Cross, where I hung around and had lunch before making my way onto the 130pm train bound for Newcastle. Is it bizarre I would be heading to go see the parents of my ex? Three years have passed since my first visit, and who knew I would be visitng under these circumstances. His mum was diagnosed with cancer and recently started treatment. Its only been the first session, and she appears to be alright, but when I heard I had this sudden urge to go see her, and this one and a half day transit time in the UK gave me the opportunity.

Why it is I feel this urge I do not know... Is it because I feel and see these reminders of mum and her whole ordeal going through treatment? Is it because I feel I want to somehow do something, anything, to reassure my friend's mum that it'll be alright? I bought propolis, protein powder, lavender oil, all things I used to bring my mum from afar, and which I know will make facing treatment a little more bearable. It feels like one of those little operations/missions I used to embark on which gave a difficult situation a more "human" and emotional touch. Because, my god, cancer can rob you so much of hope and fill you with such dread and despair...

It might be a little awkward, and I really didn't want to trouble them in any way, but they were so kind and invited me to stay over (making it all the more awkward...).

12 June

You can have all the things you've ever wanted, all that you have strove for and dreamed of... Yet at the end of the day, you feel empty inside. Empty and sad, empty yet the tears flow like there is a boundless source deep down inside...

A little to eight at night, and I was in the metro heading home. I looked around me, and somehow the world felt heavy with emotions (it'd been raining more or less the whole day). It was a busy day, did lots of work, and spent a lot of time on the phone with my agent, with the mortgage broker, with the bank, and with a friend, trying to finalise the last nail that would solidify the  acceptance on the condo I saw and agreed to buy last weekend. A long week of emotions, paperwork, and it came to be. The deed has been done. I also spent some time making arrangements to visit a friend's parents (the mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and I waned to visit and give her a boost of support... in a way, like I used to with my own mother).

So in many ways, many emotions and new experiences, new territory this week. And on top of it all, this morning, while scrolling through facebook (I know, bad habit in the morning, but I do it mostly for the news and to know what's been happening since I "signed off" a few hours earlier). And there was that picture. That famous, or infamous, picture. Of me sitting next to mum at the hospice. Me holding her hand, one that had tubes and tape on. Me with a graduation cap, carrying a forced, forced smile. Mum looked tired, thin, and frail... Maybe I should not have taken that picture, she didnt look too well. But the nurses were so happy to see me, they seemed to have heard much about me. And I wanted to capture that moment at that moment. A moment of joy for my mother, a moment of pride, and perhaps even relief for my mother. I , the prodigal son, had returned and had finally graduated. 

It was to be my last return to her side. 

She would take her leave around two weeks later.

How it seemed to be all so well timed.

That picture stayed with me most of the day, even though my mind was chatting with my friend's mother and firming plans to visit, even though my mind was calculating interest rates and monthly payments, even though my mind focused on the ITU and regulation of radio frequencies and protecting them from unlawful interference... my mind was etched with that moment three years ago. 

A friend commented "It has already been 3 years? Time has flown". In a way, yes... unbelievable. But in many ways, time has passed by at times, particularly in the first year, particularly at night when (as we say) "the night is deep and people are quiet", when I have to muffle the sounds of my own sobbing so as not to stir the world. Time has indeed flown. But there are grueling, painfully emotionally and longing moments what I wished time would pass even quicker so that I do not have to feel the pain and loss so much more. As my friend's mother said on the phone to me, "You will always feel it, it stays with you". She lost her father suddenly some forty years ago, and it still is difficult. 

I'm not sure how I will get by the next week, or the week after that when I am going to see mum at her final resting place. I have so much to tell her. So much has happened since I saw her last, since we parted three years ago. No longer a fresh graduate, I am a "prof" now... no longer so directionless and lost, I am slowly making my path and found a place where I am somehow feel so comfortable to call "home" (even though I have yet to sleep or live there)... 

How I have grown, have struggled to stand still and stand tall, though at times, like earlier tonight when I got home, when I lay down next to my cats (how blessed I am to have two wonderful cats...) I just curl up in a ball and cry... Just let the tears flow out of me like there is no end to the saltiness and to the tears of pain and longing. 

When I look at the pictures of my mum, I am reminded of how much I miss her, of how kind she was, of how caring she was as a mother, as my rock, my support and my guide in life. She is in a better place now, I know that. Anywhere is better than those last few months in the hospital, those bouts of vomiting and sickness, those treatments and sessions and appointments... Anywhere is better than then, than those dark, heavy and uncertain days. I know so. I know for sure. 

What has happened in the past year? What have I done? I ask myself that, and I struggle to find an answer in the same way I have been struggling to find joy, find meaning and a reason to really smile.

People have questioned why I still am "this way", why I withdraw, why I still cry. I have even been questioned on why I am making a big deal out of the one year anniversary and even the purpose of flying home to commemorate my late mum. I have no real answers, and perhaps there are no answers for loss and grief are such personal experiences. Experience loss, real loss, and one may come close to knowing really why. Experience loss, and maybe one will come close to feeling a void as vast, endless and empty as the world looks like from a jetliner at 35,000 feet.
12 June 2013.

 

 But there are moments.

There just are moments I feel so weak, so prone to tears. There are moments when I just break down all over again. 

But I know I will stand up again. And again.