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.

 

Waiver

Today is the date I waive a so-called financing condition, basically guaranteeing I have the fnances and will commit to buying. If I back out now , I lose the deposit.

But there's no backing out now. I've found a yoga studio new my new pad, I've gone in google maps and mapped the way to get to the showrooms for my new kitchen countertop, and even mapped the way to get to the airport. There's no backing out now, because I'm excited and committed. Somehow this place feels good, just right.

Is it any wonder why the building is on (and actually named after) Adelaide, the city I'll be going to in two weeks? Is it a pure coincidence that I should get a CD of the music Alegria when I went to see the building for the second time?

I wrote to my brother, despite the initial negative response from him, and his second email was much more supportive and understanding. The economics, of having to pay a lot of rent and using the same money would cover fees and mortgage, just makes sense. Even if I don't live there, I can rent the place out, and get some additional income from the property. This is what my parents instilled in me: real estate, immobiles , are the most stable form of assets. Buy, buy, buy, mum told me

(Facebook today, incidentally, showed me a pic of me three years ago with mum... Sitting by her side, minutes after I rushed home after the graduation I never wanted to have, wearing a grad cap and a forced smile...).

Coincidences and signs

Two weeks or so ago, I was called into a bank I don't really deal with much. The representative told me because of my "loyal" custom, they decided to offer me a line of credit. I was hesitant at first... but after being told I don't lose anything, and have only to gain (and seeing pictures of two young boys who belong to this bank employee), I gave in. I was given the line of credit, to use (or not) as I wish, against a very low interest rate.

I never thought of ever using this. Ever.

Fast forward two weeks or so, and tomorrow, the deposit for the house I made an offer on (one that was accepted) is due by close of business day. How much? Exactly the same amount as the line of credit I was offered.

Coincidence, or just random facts? I will not really know... maybe I will look back and reflect how foolish I am to be looking for signs and connecting dots where there are none. Maybe, just maybe, my Piscean/Rat senses are just intuitively strong and see the signs that others do not see.

This week, end of the week, it is make or break on whether I get the financing sorted for the house I would like to have. I can afford it, comfortably with a mortgage, and I can make payments for the mortgage for at the very least a year and a half. But I just hesitate to part with a great deal of all that my parents have left me. Am I being too rash? Being too careless? I am afraid, particularly of making a wrong move, of diving head in only to find myself stuck and feeling oppressed with mortgage payments and debts I cannot pay.

In times of uncertainty when you are seeking guidance and signs, the foolish (or perhaps the very wise) seek the counsel of tradition and the unseen. So I called up my mum's spiritual adviser, and asked his opinion. I had not spoken to him for some time, and when he answered the phone, he asked about my work and immediately about whether I had bought a place.

"Your mum wants to know if you bought a place! How you done it?
 It was as if I heard her voice, through the voice of another, and I was moved immediately to tearing.
Mum's care and concerns still linger three years since she left this world, left me.

I remember her telling me days before her departure, I should buy something quick, I should settle down. "Money melts", as she and dad used to say so often. It goes away and loses value, and the surest way to keep value is to "invest" in property. Nothing is more certain and valuable, they told me. It is a time-tested wisedom.

And yet, I am so afraid. I wish I could again seek the counsel of my parents, hear from their voices the voice of approval and advice on what to look out for and what to look for. But I cannot.

And so I told the spiritual guide and sought his advice. "What do you feel? What is your first intuition?" Follow that, he said. Just go with what you feel, especially after weighing the options, weighing your finances and the location. "You know your mum would want you to settle down."
Again, I was so moved. My intuition seems right, but I am still anxious, still unsure and wondering...

Am I foolish to look for signs where there are none?

Just as I left the apartment building Of the condo I really liked, at the door was a stack of CDs to take (freebies). The first one was Alegria, one of my all time favourite pieces of music (and performances).



"Alegria
As the light of life
Algeria
As a clown who cries
Algeria
The great cry
Of crazy sorrow
Serena
As the rage of love
Alegria
As an assault of happiness"


It was the same show I watched with mum days before she left this world.