Almost twenty years ago, a dad took his son on a train journey. The dad bought a day-ticket, for unlimited travel throughout the country. How excited the boy was, for he loved trains. And even more exciting, they boarded one of the first double decker trains in the Netherlands at the time...
Close to Zwolle or thereabouts, there came smoke out of the locomotive. There was a a strench in the air... The train broke down. But that didn't ruin a beautiful day shared between father and son...
Riding the same type of train now, towards the city of one of my alma maters, Leiden. The train may look old and may have lost its novelty and luster over the years. But the memories of that day still remains...
Just passed station Mariahoeve... In 1994, on the platform, the boy bid farewell to his dad. The 10 year old boy was in tears, for the parents and the family were going to be split up... That was the beginning of my family's separation...
I cried and cried. Dad looked at me sadly and didn't know how to comfort me. A train passed by. A speeding train that did not stop.
"What kind of train is that? Where is it going?"
Between sniffles, I answered, and temporarily my attention was diverted from my sadness and pain... "It's an EC train..." Eurocity. This was before the era of the high speed Thalys. "Going to Paris, from Amsterdam..." Even then I could tell where the train would stop. Dad complimented me.
Soon, he boarded his train bound for the airport. Soon, dad slowly disappeared from my life...
Funny how objects and places conjure such memories and temporarily plunge your mind into sadness...
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
21 December 2012
05 May 2012
Second last night
Will be sleeping next to mum tonight, just to make sure she will be alright: after over an hour of icing and wiping her body, mum's temperature dropped to 36.5C, which is about normal. False alarm, thus, and we could all breath with relief again.
A thought crossed my mind as I laid down my blanket next to mum on her bed. I remember when I was young, much younger, when I was sixteen, seventeen or so. At the time I visited dad in the summers and would sleep next to him. I remembered that on the final nights, I would always go to sleep with the thought that it would be the nth night before I leave. That would make me sad, and sometimes I'd fall asleep with tears in my eyes, having cried to sleep as I listened to dad snore and was so close I could smell his scent...
I will be doing something similar tonight, on this second last night before my departure...
A thought crossed my mind as I laid down my blanket next to mum on her bed. I remember when I was young, much younger, when I was sixteen, seventeen or so. At the time I visited dad in the summers and would sleep next to him. I remembered that on the final nights, I would always go to sleep with the thought that it would be the nth night before I leave. That would make me sad, and sometimes I'd fall asleep with tears in my eyes, having cried to sleep as I listened to dad snore and was so close I could smell his scent...
I will be doing something similar tonight, on this second last night before my departure...
17 April 2012
Rest in peace...
I got a phone call, and my aunt was crying as she delivered the news "Your uncle... he's gone..."
A heavy, heavy feeling flooded my heart... I did not have the chance to speak to him or see him recently, and my mind kept on returning to that day last year when I last saw him, when I promised I would go see him again...
He was such a kind and gentle man, always so understanding, such a simple man, who was a teacher, who never seemed to get angry or upset about anything. He ate very simply, bland, healthy home-made meals, woke up early every morning, exercised and did not have any 'bad' habits. Every so often, he would send my mum newspaper clippings of inspirational articles and write letters to her to encourage her. He's been doing that when my parents became estranged, and continued doing that as mum continued to fight cancer over the past few years.Yet cruel cancer found him too, and has now taken him away...
As a child, he always welcomed me into his home. I remember many evenings sitting in the living room and listening to him talk about history and the intricacies of Taiwanese culture and language. A couple of times, he took me to the rice-farming village where he grew up to experience and see life in the countryside. And I remember when I was younger, he would take me to a park near the railroads and accompany me as I watched in awe at the trains speeding by...
I know he was in the ICU for almost two weeks, as he caught a lung infection, and has been severely weakened by the latest chemo treatment. The other day, I was just thinking about visiting him on my planned bike trip soon. But now I can't even do that anymore...
"Take care of yourself," my aunt said amid tears and sobbing, "And tell your mother to take good care..."
Farewell, dear uncle...
May you finally find eternal peace and be liberated from all sorts of physical and mental pain and suffering...
24 January 2012
memory lane
Feeling like I need some time alone, I took the metro downtown and got off at a stop where I know there is a famous night market.
The weather was dreadful, and within minutes I was drenched, and hungry. As it's the second day of the new year holidays, much is still closed, and wherever it's open, it's crowded with families eating and celebrating, which for me to go in by myself would be very depressing... And there were moments, being drenched, and wandering around the empty city on a cold night like this all by my self, I felt u could easily cry from the deep, deep sense of loneliness and abandonment I felt...
I turned a street corner, and recognised the place... Dad lived here a couple ten years or so ago, in an apartment provided by his bank for bachelors/bachelorettes. At the time, mum and us, the children, were in the Netherlands, and dad worked and lived here alone by himself.
I knew the area well, for every summer I would come stay with him for a month or two. We'd go out to dinner at nearby eateries, and we'd stroll around the area every evening after his work. I knew the area well, and there are many memories at various places.
I walked past Dongmen Market, now a darkened alleyway as everyone has gone home for the holidays... I came to the gates of the building where dad lived on the fourth floor, in room 413 ( I recall many times whenever I left after my summer stay, I'd quietly "bless" the room, for I never liked the room number (4 being inauspicious in Taiwan, and 13... Well, 13 is 13)). A sense of nostalgia overcame me... How young I was then... Thirteen to the age of seventeen or so. Was I carefree, innocent, and free from worries? Not necessarily, for I had things that occupied my mind. Maybe not as heavy as illness and death, maybe not as frustrating as being broken hearted and feeling as lonely as I do now. But there were worries back then, for I was, and I guess have always been, a thoughtful (ie think too much...) boy.
Those were the beginnings of My parents' estrangement, which cumulated in their eventual (physical) separation. Even short periods of being together, there would be arguments, arguments which traumatised me. It made me feel so torn between a dad I care about a lot (but whom I could not really approach and express my love to, except every year with a card on this birthday), and a mother I loved deeply and often felt was wronged. I often felt like I
needed to be the bridge between the two, and was often the role of messenger. After periods of "cold wars" (as I called it...), imagine the smile on my face, the joy, joy, in my heart when they would start talking to one another again.. Those arguments, often over trivial things like money matters or what to eat and what to wear, caused me to vow that I, if i were in a relationship, i would never (to the best of my ability) intentionally hurt my lover with words (perhaps I failed miserably in this...)
I remember sitting in the foyer of the fourth floor on 1 July 1997, and together with dad watched the handover of Hong Kong to back to China... A sad moment, dad said, and he expressed fears that our homeland might one day be forcibly taken by the Chinese. Hearing that filled me with indignation and fear, and dad's words perhaps sowed the seeds of my love for my birth county, and anti- (Communist) China sentiments.
As I walked, many more memories came back to me... Hikes we took together into the mountains... Getting up very early in the morning for a soak in the hot springs north of the city... Walks in the park, which then had only feeble looking twigs, but now a decade or so later is covered with tall trees... Visits to the book store, where we would lose ourselves for hours, sometimes until closing time (I would be in the comic book part or the English book section, mum in the travel section, dad reading some kind of novel or current affairs magazine...).
And then I noticed the name of the road dad used to live on. Jinshan South Road, named after the same town where he is now resting in peace... I never made that connection, not until today, not until tonight's walk down memory lane.
The weather was dreadful, and within minutes I was drenched, and hungry. As it's the second day of the new year holidays, much is still closed, and wherever it's open, it's crowded with families eating and celebrating, which for me to go in by myself would be very depressing... And there were moments, being drenched, and wandering around the empty city on a cold night like this all by my self, I felt u could easily cry from the deep, deep sense of loneliness and abandonment I felt...
I turned a street corner, and recognised the place... Dad lived here a couple ten years or so ago, in an apartment provided by his bank for bachelors/bachelorettes. At the time, mum and us, the children, were in the Netherlands, and dad worked and lived here alone by himself.
I knew the area well, for every summer I would come stay with him for a month or two. We'd go out to dinner at nearby eateries, and we'd stroll around the area every evening after his work. I knew the area well, and there are many memories at various places.
I walked past Dongmen Market, now a darkened alleyway as everyone has gone home for the holidays... I came to the gates of the building where dad lived on the fourth floor, in room 413 ( I recall many times whenever I left after my summer stay, I'd quietly "bless" the room, for I never liked the room number (4 being inauspicious in Taiwan, and 13... Well, 13 is 13)). A sense of nostalgia overcame me... How young I was then... Thirteen to the age of seventeen or so. Was I carefree, innocent, and free from worries? Not necessarily, for I had things that occupied my mind. Maybe not as heavy as illness and death, maybe not as frustrating as being broken hearted and feeling as lonely as I do now. But there were worries back then, for I was, and I guess have always been, a thoughtful (ie think too much...) boy.
Those were the beginnings of My parents' estrangement, which cumulated in their eventual (physical) separation. Even short periods of being together, there would be arguments, arguments which traumatised me. It made me feel so torn between a dad I care about a lot (but whom I could not really approach and express my love to, except every year with a card on this birthday), and a mother I loved deeply and often felt was wronged. I often felt like I
needed to be the bridge between the two, and was often the role of messenger. After periods of "cold wars" (as I called it...), imagine the smile on my face, the joy, joy, in my heart when they would start talking to one another again.. Those arguments, often over trivial things like money matters or what to eat and what to wear, caused me to vow that I, if i were in a relationship, i would never (to the best of my ability) intentionally hurt my lover with words (perhaps I failed miserably in this...)
I remember sitting in the foyer of the fourth floor on 1 July 1997, and together with dad watched the handover of Hong Kong to back to China... A sad moment, dad said, and he expressed fears that our homeland might one day be forcibly taken by the Chinese. Hearing that filled me with indignation and fear, and dad's words perhaps sowed the seeds of my love for my birth county, and anti- (Communist) China sentiments.
As I walked, many more memories came back to me... Hikes we took together into the mountains... Getting up very early in the morning for a soak in the hot springs north of the city... Walks in the park, which then had only feeble looking twigs, but now a decade or so later is covered with tall trees... Visits to the book store, where we would lose ourselves for hours, sometimes until closing time (I would be in the comic book part or the English book section, mum in the travel section, dad reading some kind of novel or current affairs magazine...).
And then I noticed the name of the road dad used to live on. Jinshan South Road, named after the same town where he is now resting in peace... I never made that connection, not until today, not until tonight's walk down memory lane.
22 January 2012
Lunar new year's eve
Barely nine in the evening, and mum is already in bed. Even at dinner, she looked uncomfortable and in pain. Earlier, she said she no longer wants to go down to visit relatives as planned. Most likely, I'll have to go refund the tickets in the morning, and will stay with her at home over the next few days. I had been so anticipating getting away from the city for a few days, and taking some time 'off' by going to the seclusion of the monastery. But if mum cannot leave home, I can't really go off on my own. She's too weak to be left alone at this stage. And with treatment planned in a few days' time, she really needs to eat well-- something I know she will not really do when I am not around.
Lunar new year's eve, but it does not feel like it at all. Where is that sense of excitement I used to feel as a child? Where is the magic of staying up late and chatting with mum and dad excitedly about the year gone by?
At dinner, I left an empty chair for dad to 'sit' in. I laid out a bowl and filled it with some rice and dishes I made (with help from my sister-in-law). I looked at the empty bowl and felt so sad... An empty bowl, right next to me... One day, there will be two empty bowls I will have to lay out.
Brother suddenly got up from dinner at one point, and picked up two red envelops. One for mum, one for me. I was touched, for it was the first time he gave me a red envelop (a tradition), and it reminded me that I had completely forgotten to prepare one for my little nephew (just shows how scattered and down I have become these days...). So quickly I went into the bedroom, and got a spare red envelop, and took out some of the money brother just handed me and gave the envelop to my nephew.
To everyone's surprise, his little fingers grabbed at the red envelop. He clutched it tightly, and moved it close to his mouth to suck on. Perhaps it's just a reaction he has to everything that is placed in front of his face, but that made us all laugh.
And for a few moments, laughter brought us all back to the spirit of lunar new year celebrations, to the (more) carefree days when this time of the year is filled with magic and surprises, excitement and a sense of longing for newer, brighter days.
Lunar new year's eve, but it does not feel like it at all. Where is that sense of excitement I used to feel as a child? Where is the magic of staying up late and chatting with mum and dad excitedly about the year gone by?
At dinner, I left an empty chair for dad to 'sit' in. I laid out a bowl and filled it with some rice and dishes I made (with help from my sister-in-law). I looked at the empty bowl and felt so sad... An empty bowl, right next to me... One day, there will be two empty bowls I will have to lay out.
Brother suddenly got up from dinner at one point, and picked up two red envelops. One for mum, one for me. I was touched, for it was the first time he gave me a red envelop (a tradition), and it reminded me that I had completely forgotten to prepare one for my little nephew (just shows how scattered and down I have become these days...). So quickly I went into the bedroom, and got a spare red envelop, and took out some of the money brother just handed me and gave the envelop to my nephew.
To everyone's surprise, his little fingers grabbed at the red envelop. He clutched it tightly, and moved it close to his mouth to suck on. Perhaps it's just a reaction he has to everything that is placed in front of his face, but that made us all laugh.
And for a few moments, laughter brought us all back to the spirit of lunar new year celebrations, to the (more) carefree days when this time of the year is filled with magic and surprises, excitement and a sense of longing for newer, brighter days.
12 December 2011
Pains...
Mum apologised. "Why? Why are you apologising?" I asked. We were talking about breastfeeding, about my sister-in-law who has been breastfeeding since my nephew's birth. Somehow, mum remembered that when I was still a baby, she only breastfed me for a little while and had to stop, whereas my brother was breastfed till he was many months old. "I had to go to work, and it hurt a lot to squeeze out milk..."
She said I once 'complained' about not having been breastfed--something I don't remember at all. She said she was sorry that she stopped with me, because breastfed babies are healthier and have a stronger bond with the mother. I laughed, because it was very silly what she was saying. Am I not (relatively) healthy? Do I not have a strong, beautiful bond with my mother...?
The weather has been so cold that mum went to the hot springs and enjoyed a nice lunch and afternoon soaking in the natural springs close to where she lives. She said she felt much relieved, and for a while her aches and pains went away, so was really basking in the temporary break from her almost constant physical ordeals. And she began, at her own initiative, to talk about her condition.
She went to see her main physician last Friday, and she complained that her elbow joints and the area under her armpits are getting very painful and sore. The doctor prescribed her a new kind of painkiller, a drug that lasts up to twelve hours, she said, compared to the one she used before which lasts only up to six hours. "It's the lymph node," she said, "When it hurts like this, it means that the lymph node is swelling." Which in turn means that it has become infected... Infected, most likely, with cancerous cells. All the doctor could do is prescribe painkillers, and in two days time, she will have her next chemotherapy.
Tomorrow though, she will go meet the neurosurgeon who first confirmed that her tumour had spread to the spine area. It's been almost four months since she last saw him, and she wants to have an assessment of her situation. Mum has been told that if her pains and sores get to the point where she cannot use her arm anymore, she must immediately call the neurosurgeon. On her fridge is a hotline that she must call, and surgery will be conducted within a day or two. Because when, or if, that time comes, the her condition will have become so critical that surgery is the only way to stop the tumour growing on the spine from causing permanent nerve damage, or even paralysis...
I thanked her for telling me. However sad I felt, however traumatised and hurt by the latest report of her condition, I can only accept. I bid her good night, and wished her a beautiful sleep... Because in those couple of hours, when she is in the land of sleep, there are no pains, no sores, no doctors, no cancer cells...
She said I once 'complained' about not having been breastfed--something I don't remember at all. She said she was sorry that she stopped with me, because breastfed babies are healthier and have a stronger bond with the mother. I laughed, because it was very silly what she was saying. Am I not (relatively) healthy? Do I not have a strong, beautiful bond with my mother...?
The weather has been so cold that mum went to the hot springs and enjoyed a nice lunch and afternoon soaking in the natural springs close to where she lives. She said she felt much relieved, and for a while her aches and pains went away, so was really basking in the temporary break from her almost constant physical ordeals. And she began, at her own initiative, to talk about her condition.
She went to see her main physician last Friday, and she complained that her elbow joints and the area under her armpits are getting very painful and sore. The doctor prescribed her a new kind of painkiller, a drug that lasts up to twelve hours, she said, compared to the one she used before which lasts only up to six hours. "It's the lymph node," she said, "When it hurts like this, it means that the lymph node is swelling." Which in turn means that it has become infected... Infected, most likely, with cancerous cells. All the doctor could do is prescribe painkillers, and in two days time, she will have her next chemotherapy.
Tomorrow though, she will go meet the neurosurgeon who first confirmed that her tumour had spread to the spine area. It's been almost four months since she last saw him, and she wants to have an assessment of her situation. Mum has been told that if her pains and sores get to the point where she cannot use her arm anymore, she must immediately call the neurosurgeon. On her fridge is a hotline that she must call, and surgery will be conducted within a day or two. Because when, or if, that time comes, the her condition will have become so critical that surgery is the only way to stop the tumour growing on the spine from causing permanent nerve damage, or even paralysis...
I thanked her for telling me. However sad I felt, however traumatised and hurt by the latest report of her condition, I can only accept. I bid her good night, and wished her a beautiful sleep... Because in those couple of hours, when she is in the land of sleep, there are no pains, no sores, no doctors, no cancer cells...
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