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...).