A leopard, golden and spotted black, slick and slim, oozing with beauty and a deadly silence. Not just any leopard, but a Formosan Cloud Leopard, indigenous to the high mountain forests of Taiwan, nowadays extremely rare, and rarely seen.
It approached me, and I was stricken with fear. He silently stepped toward me, I wanted to run, but could not. Something somehow made me stay, even though I was trembling. The leopard squinted, lazily like a cat, and circled me. His breath felt warm. Out of nowhere came this urge, and my hand raised itself to touch the leopard's patterned fur. He felt soft, tender and gentle, and the leopard stopped in its path for me to pet, like a tame cat, were it not for the sharp fangs that glistened whenever the leopard opened its mouth.
I stroked the leopard me, and it started to purr, loudly. In the following scene, I was on the leopard's back, riding it, as he sprinted on and on and on through the dense forest floor. I felt such joy, elation and liberation as I grabbed onto the leopard's fur and moved with the leopard's movements, swiftly and silently.
We came to a stop, and the leopard set me down. As if the leopard was tired from the running, he rolled on its back and lay there with his head softly rubbing the earth. I knelt down next to him, and started to stroke him, stroke him, stroke him ever so softly, as he purred and purred with pleasure. His eyes closed as his paws hung loosely from the relaxed and lazy posture the leopard was in. Reassured, I patted him on the chest, and felt his heartbeat, while my other hand stroked the leopard's soft coat on his head. I felt such warmth, such connection with him, even though they say the Cloud Leopard is normally a shy but vicious creature of the jungle. I knelt beside him, but could only see and feel the tenderness and beauty of the leopard in every stroke of my hand.
Slowly, slowly, the leopard's purr grew softer. His heartbeat also slowed, and his paws gradually no longer moved as it did before from side to side expressing comfort. I stroked it even more, admiring the beauty and tranquility of this gift of nature before me, and felt grateful that I could be so close to it in such a peaceful moment. What a precious moment!
I woke up... my heart ached and wrenched as a deep, deep pain throbbed through my chest. I felt myself cry out, but there was no sound, but an emptiness and a silent echo that made the deep void inside me even more empty-feeling than the moment before...
It was pitch-dark. Then it began. The emptiness turned to tears, and I sobbed in bed. Images of dad flashed before my closed eyes, images of his kind face, echoes of his soft voice. Another image flooded into my memories... the image of those tender moments when I stroked his face and hands as he slowly, slowly, slowly went to sleep... the long long sleep he would no longer wake up from. More tears flowed, and I felt the pillow case dampen as I buried my face in it to dampen the sounds of my howls... My howls from the pain, loss, and realisation that my dad is finally gone, and that I will never see him again.
Rarely have I felt pain of such intensity, and never in the past month since my dad's passing away have I shed so many tears. I did not know where those tears came from. Perhaps from the stored tears that were kept dammed inside in those times when I felt I could not break for the sake of others around me. Wherever they came from, the tears uncontrollably flooded through my eyes. I tugged at the thick douvet and the blanket I was under, and remembering that dad had bought the blanket for me to keep me warm during the cold winter months, I cried even more... even, even more.
I cried myself asleep, and before long, I drifted back into the world of dreams where I was again reunited with my dad.
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