2.28

I lightly tapped mum on the shoulder. No response.

I tapped her again, her head rested on the pillow, her face buried under the duvet, back against me. "Mum...?"

She groaned a little, and turned around to look at me. "I feel ill, and I feel so cold!" She looked tired, and unwell. I sat next to her, as she continued to sleep. Crow-feet pressed lightly against the corners of her eyes, the wrinkles on her eyelids show tiredness and old age, the light breathing and breath against my cheeks a source of comfort and warmth. Loneliness, loss, over-exhaustion, worry, stress and death. Mum has experienced it all. And now her body is slowing down, telling her that her years of worries and fears have triggered a turbulent symptoms that will weaken her even more and more as time passes.

I let mum sleep more, and quietly walked downstairs, hoping that she can soon regain that vigour and strength that I so admired and so looked for for protection while growing up.
Now, I can only hope to return the favours by pouring her warm cups of water and making her meals in the hope that her health can be nursed back to what it used to be.

I too woke up this morning feeling really sick. While making breakfast, the food I was cooking made me like throwing up. Nausea, dizziness, and soreness all over. Perhaps the weeks and weeks of exhaustion is taking its toll on my health, and I felt like the cold is reaping in its award.

Originally, I had planned to go and attend the commemoration ceremony of the 228 Incident, but I was too tired and feeling so miserable I rolled back into bed after offering breakfast to my dad. Dad would have wanted to attend the ceremony, which remembers the tens of thousands of Taiwanese civilisans massacred by the invasion of Nationalist Chinese troops, and the beginning of over 40 years of martial law known as the White Terror. It began in 1947, coincidentally the same year my dad was born in. Now, 61 years later, Taiwan is peaceful and free. Now, 61 years later, my dad is also hopefully peaceful and free.

With two days until the funeral on Saturday, most of the arrangements have been made. Throughout the past few weeks, we have been busy looking for a suitable final resting place for my dad, and it seems we found one in the mountains of the North-East Coast, overlooking the sea. Friends and relatives came by our house to pay respects to my dad, and spoke of how kind and gentle a person he was. They praised his calm nature, his love of reading, and emphasised his excellent writing skills. Perhaps this is a heritage that I will hopefully be able to inherit now that my dad is gone.