How much longer?

She lay in bed and said something. No, it was more a desperate attempt at a whisper. An attempt to whisper out her frustration, her pain.

"A...few... months..."

I heard what she said. I can hear, I can see. And I see the inevitable approaching slowly, slowly, ever so slowly. "What did you say...?"

I knew what mum said. I just wanted to hear it. Again. Why? Is it perverse to want to hear it from mum's mouth in her own frail voice?

Does it matter how much longer?

Blog for a cure

Ever since I joined the online community of cancer warriors and their loved ones, I have been reading about other people's struggles and intimate, touching stories. It really has helped me in a way, especially in knowing that there are others out there who can understand. When there is no one I can turn to, not even friends, not even my ex who just breaks down and cries, these people on the internet whom I've never ever met really are a source of support.

I am touched by their stories. And every day almost there are sad ones about a warrior losing the greatest battle of his/her life. The last blog entry is usually written by  a family member, or sometimes the webmaster. And several of them moved me to tears... So much struggle, so much suffering, and in the end, the person is taken away. The latest one, a lady just three years older, a mother of three young children, wife of the love of her life... So merciless is cancer! So cruel!

One day, I know, one day it will be my turn to write that difficult entry... And everything I am doing, every event I am noting down, every word I am writing down is hopefully going to make that process and that final moment all the more easier.

Letter

What do you say to someone who is near the end of the journey of life?
This is not the first time, and it for sure will not be my last.
Do you say "Get well soon?", even though he will not?
Do you ask "How are you feeling?" when you know very well you cannot imagine the physical pain and emotional turmoil he is experiencing, and when you know very well you can do little to take either of those things from him?

What do you write to someone whose every day may be the last, whose every minute is uncertain whether it will lead to the next? You write with your heart, you write with words that will infuse beauty and wisdom, compassion and humanity.

Over two years ago when I saw my friend for the last time before he passed away a week later, I wrote him a card. It was not a get well card, more a "be well" card. "Savour every moment" I remember writing to him, "Treasure every breath". He was a devout Buddhist, and the one I accredit for leading me onto the spiritual path of meditation and living with joy and loving-kindness. He taught me and told me many times before "Life is only so much", and that anything in this universe "is only ever so much" (如是). So let go... Let go of everything. And those were the words I gave back to him in my card, for those were the words he once gifted me. And accompanying my card were pictures... Of the ocean, of mountains, of flowers, of sunsets and sunrises... Pictures of the beautiful ways and expressions of this universe, lest my friend should forget.

He cried seeing those pictures, and stroked the images like they were so dear to him. His family told me the pictures were above his bed when he peacefully left this world...

May it also be that my words and pictures on their way to my uncle will bring him much peace, tranquility and a gentle, small reminder of what wonderful beauties there are in this world...