Seeing my professor

I went into the office today, the first time since before Christmas last year. My colleagues were so excited to see me, and compassionately listened to me recount events (or at least summaries thereof) of the past few months I was away. We had lunch dinner, and it felt as cosy and intimate as ever before. "It's so wonderful to have you back," the secretary said, "We've missed you here." And I've missed them and my odd chores at the institute.

I dropped in on my professor, who is my supervisor but also happens to be my guidance counsellor over the last three and something years. As always, he was concerned about how I am doing and about my mum's well-being.

"It's not good..." I said, hesitatingly, but honestly when my professor asked how mum is. My voice trembled as I said that, and I could feel a rush of tears to my eyes as the image of mum lying there in hospital flashed across my mind.

We sat down for a while, and I recounted how difficult things have been. He was understanding as ever, the wise and compassionate "grandfatherly" figure I have have always appreciated and held in high regard. I thanked him numerous times for his understanding, his patience, his encouragements and support-- something I've done numerous times before already, and also written a whole paragraph acknowledging in my thesis. I was moved almost to tears as I thanked him and gave him a little something I brought back from Taiwan. Moved to tears because, as I said to him, he gave me the time and freedom I needed to complete this degree, and he understood the pains and difficulties I have had to face and overcome in the process. For that I am so grateful...

I also apologised to him, for I feel terribly sorry that he had entrusted with me some projects before Christmas, but I never did find the time to really sit down and produce something of high quality to deliver. Again, my professor was understanding, and he said he does not hold it against me. "There are those who are in much more favourable situations than you are, and they don't deliver. I know you are doing your best." His words again moved me to tears.

I told him frankly often I feel guilty that I've been at the institute, and at this degree, for three, almost four years yet what have I really contributed to the institute? What great achievements have I made? What breakthrough have I made?

He cut me off mid-sentence. "You've not just done well, you've done an excellent job with what you're facing." Being Indian, he said he could understand how I feel and what conflict I feel deep down. "As I have said many times, you are doing the right thing and putting your mother first. What is more important than that? Work can come later, but your mother may not be around later..."

He congratulated me on my "achievement" of finishing off my thesis, and also trying to do everything I can to be with my mum at this critical, critical stage of her life. "Like I have said, you should be proud of yourself for doing so much and doing so well despite the circumstances..."

As I stood up to go, I humbly bowed and shook his hand. In the face of difficult decisions and uncontrollable circumstances, there are 'saints' like my professor who have been around to push me, encourage me, guide me and remind me again of what I have done, and reassure me that a lot of what I do is worth it. Worth all the tears, anxieties, sleepless nights.... worth staying up till the wee hours of the morning just trying to finish off footnotes and editing, because that is the only time I have to work.

Thank you, professor...

Thesis report

I opened my email box, the first time in a few days. Among the mails I quickly deleted was one from my supervisor. A congratulatory email, with an attachment marked "report" from my external examiner.

I passed.

Finally. The long-awaited result I have been waiting for. With the situation of my mum, I have not really had time to think of the results much... and to be honest, I did not (have time to even?) dread it. I read it, smiled a little, and was happy that this is all over. Did I expect the results? Did I know deep down that the review would be good, or that my thesis would be described as a "creative contribution to developing international law"? I showed my mum the results, and that made her smile.

Funny thing, over a month ago I sent her a copy of my thesis, and today was the first time she opened it, because she had been hospitalised the entire time since the end of December. When she read what I wrote on the dedications page ("For my dear, brave mother"), she teared and thanked me. Even as  she wiped away her tears with her fingers, I tried hard to contain mine.

She thanked me, but I thanked her. For as I wrote inside:

[...]
Most of all, I would like to express my most heartfelt gratitude to my dear, brave mother, to whom this thesis is dedicated. Despite the difficult and testing hardships she endures, she never stopped offering me her motherly love and encouragements from afar. Her wisdom, forbearance, smiles and kindness inspire me to keep going, push me to be strong no matter what. The completion of this thesis, and this degree, is a life wish of hers, and I am grateful that I am able to fulfill that wish.

Those words are as true when I wrote them as they are today, more than a month later, even after all that has happened, and even after all that she has (we have) gone through. And these words will be true forever, and ever, for my dear, brave mother truly is a source of love, encouragements and support, even from afar, and I am sure, even when she is no longer with me.

The news of my thesis is a welcome respite from the unpleasantness of hospital wards, appointments, scans and the imepending treatment. Again, the thesis is a reminder to my mum of one reason why she wants to push herself, why she is putting herself through yet another treatment, which may or may not work, but will certainly cause her (and us) much discomfort and side-effects. For mum would like to be well, she is pushing herself to get better. For attending my graduation ceremony is an event she says is one reason why she is training hard to get better, to walk again, and to get more treatment. Going to Canada again is one of her "life" wishes (as I call it), and I can only say I am glad I can help, in any small way, to make her realise that wish...