Being a friend

If a friend did something wrong, if a friend were depressed and down, were feeling upset and telling you he feels like he is a failure, would you be unkind to him? Would you scold him, give him more pressure, blame him? Would you make him feel worse by telling him not to be so dramatic, by telling him he's insane or indeed a terrible person? Why would you do anything to make him feel worse when he's already down hearted?

Would you not remind him of how good he can be, how kind and gentle he is, and how much potential he has? Would you not remind him he is loved and that there is so much to live for in life? Would you not be there for him, be patient with him? Would you not hug him tightly, hold him, and reassure him "everything will be alright"?

If you can do that to a friend, why can't you do it to yourself? Why be so hard on yourself? Why do we have such a difficult time with ourselves and make our own lives tougher than it already is?

Need to hug myself, once in a while, hold myself, and remind myself to love myself more and more...

Things will be alright.

Knowing what you want

A friend came by to visit today, someone who was in my year. She knows mum, and has in the past four years been very supportive of mum and I. She happens to live in Taipei, and on occasion has even come to visit mum when I was not around. And a number of times on Mother's Day, she would send mum a text message.

We share not just the year we began our studies. Her mum passed away several years ago, also due to cancer. She knows the battle of a cancer warrior, and she knows even better the role and pains of a cancer warriors sidekick.

She came by after work to pay respects to mum. Her eyes were moist almost as soon as she stood before the altar. And throughout the evening, as she recounted her experience and listened to mine, she would sniff her nose. I know it is difficult to recall memories. And she reminded me that even after many years the memories will make you tear and cry.

"Give yourself the time to cry..." she said. She said she didn't allow herself that opportunity, for she worked and worked, and her only form of release was when she drank herself silly and poured her emotions out. She regretted that.

We shared stories about the intricacies of Taiwanese funeral rites and traditions and taboos surrounding mourning. Some things make us laugh, others make us feel so strange and upsetting, especially when relatives try to meddle and come in acting as I they know best. Fortunately, we have not had much of that (yet?), as in mum's will she clearly stated that she wanted her two children to take care of the funeral arrangements. And I will of course not disappoint.

"Having gone through this, I think we both know what we want in life..." she said, "We want someone who will be true and lasting, because really life is already so short and there is even less time to love!"

My friend described how when her mother passed away, her boyfriend put his job on hold for a while and immediately rushed back from the US to be with her throughout the entire process. "That is a show of real love..."
And when her boyfriend's mother passed away, she arranged him to travel home so that he could see her again before she left this world. Experiences like this build a relationship, consolidate how much two people mean to one another. Perhaps nothing really brings people together than death, grief and mourning. Death makes you realise how feeble and how temporary we are, and makes you treasure more what you have. Experiencing death in the family makes you love and realise that really, in the end only love matters, and that love will conquer everything.

"Your ex wanting to all the way here is not just out of friendship," he reminded me. "it's a long way to travel and a lot of effort just for a friend..."

Is it?

It is.

Tears

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We hugged in the middle of the street. She cried, and I cried. I alway thought her as a strong girl, an strong outgoing and confident girl, but she was shedding tears. For me, because of me. I cried more...

All the years we've known one another, she has been supportive in many ways. She always manages to bring a smile to my face, her parents were such darlings to me when I visited them. And here she was crying with me as we said goodbye.

"You are so inspirational. You're so strong..." she said, "You are a good son, and it is reflective of your mother."
Her words made me cry more.

I hugged her, kissed her, and she kissed me. There is so much I wanted to say to her, and to her parents, for they have been so supportive ad encouraging. I did not have the words, only deep, deep gratitude.

"I look forward to visiting you and your parents again when this is over..." I said. It is another thing I want to do to help me recover, to help me find myself and be strong again after everything is all over. I know I need it. I know I need friends and trips and things to look forward to when things come to a close.

She told me again I am always welcome, and that I need not hesitate to call or write whenever. I hugged her again. The hugs said so much with so little. Love, compassion, understanding, "Mitleid" (German for "suffering with" someone, or loosely translated as sympathy/empathy), "medeleven" (Dutch word for "living with" someone, again a term for which there is no english equivalent...).

"Thank you... Thank you for so much..." I said.

"Shush! We are all here for you..."

And that means so much to me.
That means the world to me, and means that there is a life after death...

Unwell

Brother suddenly called me in the evening (morning Taiwan time).

"I don't want to scare you..." he said, "And please don't worry or think too much, but mum said she wants to go the hospital."

Mum dislikes the hospital... She could hardly wait to get out of there. But today for the first time, she requested to return. I asked to speak to her.

"I just feel very weak, like there's no energy..." she mumbled. I struggled to hear her clearly. My heart pounded like it did almost five months ago, when I got "The Call". I began trembling. At that moment my friend dropped by. I had asked her to come by because I needed her help printing documents I need to apply for a visa home.

"please don't rush here... Stay where you are for a bit longer. You've been flying around too much. No need to "chia bua bing"" Meaning "turning the place upside down", or making a mountain out of a mole hill.

I spoke to mum a little more, but she was getting dressed to go. Brother took over the phone and tried to reassure me more. But I was beyond reassuring. I trembled and shook, even though I said I'd go sleep. I did not.

Not much later, I was holding our family portrait and sobbing heavily again. My friend placed an arm around me and tried to comfort me. I was beyond comforting, and sobbed even more. I felt the saltiness of my tears in the corner of my lips. I felt the snot run down my nose. I was distraught, anxious, petrified. I was so far, far away... I folded my arms before me and clenched my fists. I held myself tightly, for it was the closest way i could console myself. Eventually I stopped crying. And soon began to joke and laugh with my friend as she hugged me tightly that I must smell really bad because I've not had the time to shower since my long bike ride today. She said I smell no more different than before, which could be a compliment, or insult. That's why it was funny. That broke my flow of tears And made me smile.

"I can still smile, right? Smile and laugh?" I asked.

"Yes, you can," she said as she stroked my shoulders. And that's an amazing ability in the face of everything.

It is so painfully hard, gruellingly difficult these moments of unknown, these sudden phone calls that leave me gasping for breath and for sanity. But one day it will be all over...

One day it will all be over...

Unwell

Brother suddenly called me in the evening (morning Taiwan time).

"I don't want to scare you..." he said, "And please don't worry or think too much, but mum said she wants to go the hospital."

Mum dislikes the hospital... She could hardly wait to get out of there. But today for the first time, she requested to return. I asked to speak to her.

"I just feel very weak, like there's no energy..." she mumbled. I struggled to hear her clearly. My heart pounded like it did almost five months ago, when I got "The Call". I began trembling. At that moment my friend dropped by. I had asked her to come by because I needed her help printing documents I need to apply for a visa home.

"please don't rush here... Stay where you are for a bit longer. You've been flying around too much. No need to "chia bua bing"" Meaning "turning the place upside down", or making a mountain out of a mole hill.

I spoke to mum a little more, but she was getting dressed to go. Brother took over the phone and tried to reassure me more. But I was beyond reassuring. I trembled and shook, even though I said I'd go sleep. I did not.

Not much later, I was holding our family portrait and sobbing heavily again. My friend placed an arm around me and tried to comfort me. I was beyond comforting, and sobbed even more. I felt the saltiness of my tears in the corner of my lips. I felt the snot run down my nose. I was distraught, anxious, petrified. I was so far, far away... I folded my arms before me and clenched my fists. I held myself tightly, for it was the closest way i could console myself. Eventually I stopped crying. And soon began to joke and laugh with my friend as she hugged me tightly that I must smell really bad because I've not had the time to shower since my long bike ride today. She said I smell no more different than before, which could be a compliment, or insult. That's why it was funny. That broke my flow of tears And made me smile.

"I can still smile, right? Smile and laugh?" I asked.

"Yes, you can," she said as she stroked my shoulders. And that's an amazing ability in the face of everything.

It is so painfully hard, gruellingly difficult these moments of unknown, these sudden phone calls that leave me gasping for breath and for sanity. But one day it will be all over...

One day it will all be over...

Starting afresh

I get scared and tense up. I know what the other person is up to, I can feel the touches, the looks and glances. And I am so intimidated by it all.

But is this not what I am looking for, not what I have been craving and dreaming of? And yet when someone is giving it to me, why do I shirk and shy away? Why do I pretend not to notice and pretend none of it is happening? Why do I feel guilty and feel if I live and indulge, I am forsaking mum and abandoning her...?

"I can't..." I said, "I don't want to start anything when everything is so uncertain..." He touched me so tenderly, but I am scared. But is that always my excuse for everything? Is that how I run away from things, because I believe or make myself believe there is something much more important out there holding me back from really living, pulling me back from rushing forward and committing.

How long am I to keep running? How long must I go on living afraid to make commitments, afraid to live for myself?

Recounting the past...

I knew it would be difficult. And it was. How do you recount in a few words the events of the past four months? How do you find the words to describe all the feelings, frustrations, trials and great fears mum and I have experienced over the period I was away from here?

"It was very difficult," I said, and kept on saying. "Difficult" does not quite begin to describe it, but it is the only word I could find, and the word that I kept on repeating. "It was very difficult..." Difficult. Difficult. Difficult... As if the mere repetition of the word could do justice to how truly, deeply difficult it has really been.

It was the reason why I do not want anyone to know my return here. I need no distractions at the moment. I need peace and quiet to collect myself, to settle back into my home and my comfort zone, to find my footing in life and try to make the most of the limited time I have to study. I need the concentration to do well in the exam, and to prove to myself that however adverse the circumstances have been, I still have the ability to study whenever I find the time, and I still have the ability to do well.

I told only my good friend and neighbour of my return so far. She came by for a quick visit. When she asked how mum is doing, I had to look away and stare into the distance. I could feel my eyes getting heavy with tears. I have not cried, not really cried since I returned. And I can feel the tears are being hidden and distracted by the hundreds of pages I have still to cover before this time next week.

Perhaps she was being polite, but she said mum looked good in the pictures she's seen on facebook. What else can you say? That she looks terrible? That she looks like she lost a terrible amount of weight and that she is just skin and bones? Mum looks as good as she looks now. She is thin, bony, but her mind is clear, and her will is so strong. She is so brave. She is my mum, and I am so proud of her. Because of all that she goes through, I tell myself again and again, there is nothing more difficult, nothing more testing. I motivate myself that way. I keep on going, keep on smiling, keep on laughing and trying to see the bright(er) things of life because of how mum inspires me, touches me, and makes me cry.

Difficult. Difficult. It truly was difficult.

But it, everything that I have seen and experienced, has now become a thing of the past. "What will happen does not matter. One day at a time..."

Goodbye

I peered through the looking glass, with big puppy eyes, at my friend who was queuing up to pass through immigration. A three day visit, and many moments of laughter and joking around, have come to an end. I wasn't sad, because I know somehow, somewhere, even if we don't keep in touch for a long while, we will meet again someday, and we will again be able to enjoy carefree and happy days with one another as we embark on another adventure together.

His visit took me by surprise, and involved a number of people keeping very good secrets from me. When I said good-bye, I hugged him tightly and placed my cheek against his. "Thank you," I said, "I appreciate it a lot..." I really do. For in my darkest moments, he seems able to suddenly appear and find ways to distract me, to cheer me up, to make me forget (at least temporarily) and to make me remember how to laugh-- a precious ability I often fear I may loose under oppressive circumstances.

Before he walked away, I hugged him again, and thanked him again. His visit has given me reason to laugh and hope, and has reminded me again there are friends who genuinely care and who would go to lengths to lift me up.

I made my way back to the city, a little bit stronger to face whatever I must face in the days ahead.

Life is for living

My friend has known me for around six years, and it's funny a lot of the friendly advice he offers me every time he see me is always the same. "Have fun while you're still young," he tells me, go out and meet people.

A part of me is tempted... Tempted by the idea of just going out there and enjoying myself, not thinking too much about what happens. How else are you going to meet people and broaden the circle of friends? How else are you going to find out what it is you really want out of life and in a potential partner, and not be restricted to what you already know?

In many ways I admire my friend and his very open and friendly nature. He can just backpack somewhere and make contact with strangers who become travel buddies and friends within a short time. I've done a fair bot of traveling myself, but much of it solo, and I don't get to meet anyone, let alone befriend anyone...

I know the problem is with me, for I've always been shy and have a hard time beginning to socialise with strangers. Once the barrier is broken, I can be a good friend and care about the person easily and quickly. But finding conversation, even just going up to chat with someone makes me hesitate...

Today was a good example. We were at a bar and having drinks, and these three foreigners came in and sat down behind us. I suspected they spoke a Germanic language, and later I realised it was Dutch. I had the opportunity to just make conversation, in their native language even, but I was afraid for some reason. "What do you have to lose?" my friend told me. Really, what do I have to lose except a few minutes of my life at most. And who knows what I have to gain (perhaps even if things had gone differently, I wouldn't be here right now typing this entry...)

My friend tells me to go live more, have fun, enjoy life. And he's been telling me that since I was twenty one, when I first met him. Not much has changed, at least as far as personality is concerned... I'm still very bashful, I'm still a bit conservative, perhaps even a hopeless romantic, when it comes to relationships and being with "the One". Sure I've had one or two relationship worth mentioning, but the last one ended up in shambles because I took too long to realise what I really had and was for a long time too afraid to commit and go admit to myself I love the person... And look at me now... Single, still dreaming of and longing for someone who seems to have just moved on as soon as I left the country (at least from what I know and hear). And friends laugh at me and ask me why I'm still so caught up in the memories of a short lived relationship with the ex, when he seemed so able to quickly break thins off with me to go after someone else.

Perhaps I should just loosen up, enjoy myself more, and not feel always so conflicted and constricted by my (self imposed) duties and obligations to others. Perhaps really I should just live life, prioritise my own happiness and wellbeing before everything else, because in the end, relying on others for happiness is being too dependent and most likely just ultimately brings disappointment. I mean I've been wanting to go out and meet people, even just for a chat and a coffee, but I haven't done it because I'm just too preoccupied with mum's situation and deteriorating health... I so much long to make new friends here in a "foreign" city where I know no one (besides relatives...), but a part of me thinks pulls me back and is afraid of what may happen... But what am I afraid of? Who am I even obligated to? I'm single, I'm free, I'm free to see whoever I want, do whatever with whomever I wish to... But I don't. I stay home, dreaming meeting the "true one", daydreaming about a life and future that exists only in my fantasies...

Just so silly, just so very typical of my horoscope! Must live life more, have more fun, instead of living in dreams!

Visit

My friend started tearing as soon as we left mum's room together. I handed him a tissue and placed a hand on his back. He said he had struggled hard to contain his tears and to keep up a conversation with my mum. But seeing her like this, in the state she is now, was very painful, he said.

My friend has seen my mum on several occasions throughout the years, and in a way he saw in my mum a reflection of his own mother, who too was diagnosed with cancer several years back. He knows what it's like to see your own mother dramatically loose so much weight, he understands the heart-wrenching pain of seeing your own mother hanging on the edge, tittering so close to death...

He messaged me the day of the surgery to say he was coming to visit, but i was so distraught I did not reply immediately. Just as I was about to write to answer him, I got a phone call, announcing he somehow managed to find his way to my mum's ward and room. I was at home at the time, resting and doing some work (need to update and submit my thesis before the deadline next week...), but I rushes to the hospital and as soon I got there gave him a big, big hug. It's been such a long time. On the way there, I smiled to myself and was touched to tears that he had come all this way to see me. And it was not the first time, for when I lost my dad, he arrived within days to spend time with me. A true friend.

We've not seen one another for almost two years, but he avidly keeps up with my blog and so knows well what I'm going through. And it was later revealed he cut short a holiday in Japan to drop by Taiwan to check up on me, making me feel even more touched. I suspected when I got his message he was visiting that perhaps he was partly here on a recon mission commissioned by my ex. And I was right. Being unable to reach me, my ex has been going through various channels and contacting people I know to get ahold of news of me. I'm flattered and touched, but am a little unsure why he thinks of me so much. Could it be...?

My friend and I went out to dinner, and we caught up ours lives and chatted like old times. Much of the conversation initially focused on my mum, and I could see when I described her ordeal and what we went through in the past two months or so, his eyes turned red again. But we also laughed and talked about other things. We went back to the hospital, where I wanted to spend a little bit more time with mum and massage her sore arms and legs. She kept on telling me to go and enjoy myself, and reluctantly I did, and was glad that at least for this night I did not leave the hospital alone or with a heavy heart.

The carer who came to be with mum does a great job, and mum says she's very attentive and responds whenever she calls her, even in the middle of the night. I am somewhat relieved, for it takes a great weight on my shoulders, especially in this crucial period of time when mum cannot do much by herself and needs constant attention. The fact the carer is another woman helps a lot, for there are things that as a boy, and as her son, mum feels terribly embarrassed to have to ask me to help her with.

We went to a bar and drink a bit, first time in a long time when I took out time to relax, for normally I'd just head home and collapse from exhaustion. But with my friend here I was somehow energised and we kept on chatting and reminisced the past times when we traveled together or met up in the most random of places in the world. He stayed the night even, and we kept on chatting and watching videos till three in the morning...

And I had to get up again at six to be in time to see the doctors pay their morning visits!

Words of comfort

What would you do to prove how much you love someone?

How much of yourself would you give when there may not be much time left?

How brave and patient can you be?

These are questions that fill my mind during my waking moments, and which permeate my dreams when I close my eyes to rest my tired body and try to calm my sad, sad soul these days.

A friend of mine, a "soulmate" of sorts as we have undergone similar experiences and fears with respects to losing our mums to cancer, wrote me a long email today. She read my recent blog entries, and said she felt/feels what I feel now. That deep sense of fear, deep sense of frustration and panic, the longing to hide from the rest of the world, and the urge to cry and cry... She went through all that, she is going through much of that still, almost a year after her mum left this world...

I was touched, very touched, by her words and encouragements. They are a welcome source of support from afar at a time when I need it most, at a time when I am facing perhaps the most challenging test of my life (yet?), of anyone's life. Really, what could be more frightening, more traumatising, more unbearable than losing the one person in your life who has been there since your birth?

My friend knows how I feel, and I mean no disrespect by sharing her words to me here (sorry, I know you wrote these words privately to me, but they are very beautifully written and very meaningful...). Her words come from the heart, from the brave and partly broken heart of another who has had to live and fight alongside a cancer warrior. Her words best describe themselves:

"... in the end, this kind of situation is overwhelming. [...] But has it been planned, and so has it to be. Try to provide your mum with peace, and to expulse your pain whenever you can. I wish I could help more. [...]

There is no magic recipe how to handle the situation, in fact. You will suffer. You will cry. You will hate. You will criticize yourself.

But in the end, you will have to admit you have always done what was expected from you, and even more. You gave yourself to your mum's condition. This is an amazing proof of devotion to your mum, and a precious gift you made her.

Cry, write, shout, pray, as the illness is a vicious seed that comes into the human body and spreads relentlessly.
Be sure that your parents are incredibly proud to have a son like you, your friends are proud and amazed by the friend you are, and that you will always have a friend to support and encourage you."

On mum being angry and irritable, especially as her illness progresses and as the chances of a full recovery of health and life seen slim, my friend had this to say:

"I understood she had nothing against me, but that this was more [...] coming from the deep of her soul, trying to say "I love you so much, and I am sorry, I am sorry I have to go. Do not blame me for that. I am scared too. Keep being here for me."

An empty elevator on the 11th floor...

There is a reason why my blog is updated often daily these days. Strangely, and to put it crudely, death is fascinating, inspirational, and experiencing illness (as a bystander...) draws out dark energies of negativity as well as positive energies of creativity I have rarely experienced before. And instead of breaking down and crying and lamenting my fate (I do it too sometimes, I know...), I have found I can use that time and energy to write, write, write. For myself, for mum, and for the world to see and share.

Death, the slow and forceful approach of it, makes you realise again and again "life is only so much!" How sad it is that so many of us live with regret, so many of us live with hate and anger brewing in our hearts (and I am no less innocent of these ills...)! When all is said and done, what could be worse than to let the chance to love and care for someone you love deeply slip away? What could be worse than turning away from someone you love at a time of despair and need? That's why I am here, gritting my teeth if I must, crying inside if I can, but standing by my mother's side as she prepares for journey's end.

My blog is my dearest source of outlet these days, a dark hole where I can vent all my frustrations and anger and turn to and not be afraid of rejection. There are strong emotions I cannot express in front of my mum, there are feelings I cannot talk to anyone about. But I can write about them, right here, to share with the world and share with unexpected readers who may be facing similar difficulties and having similar feelings.

I know there will be times when I am so consumed by despair I want to hide and hide... I know there will be times when I will quietly cry and wonder why this is all happening... There are times when I wonder why there is no one next to me who can hold me, kiss me and tell me softly "It'll be all alright..."

But I am brave, I am strong, I have been through so much over the past few years. And I can get through this, one day at a time...

Meeting a friend

I finished my appointment at the hospital, and remembered I have a friend who lives close by in this quarter of the city. So I called her up, and she was more than happy to meet me.

She and I actually met during our studies in Montreal, and she's like an older sister to me, always willing to listen, always willing to give me sound advice and reassure me I'm doing alright. Her mum also had cancer, and my friend went through a similar situation I am facing now.

We sat down to dinner, a simple congee, as I just finished my one day fast in preparation for the colonoscopy, and therefore cannot eat anything too heavy. We exchanged lives, but much of the conversation was on me and how my mum has been doing.

Like always, she listened patiently and attentively, and nodded whenever what I described was a reflection of what she experienced earlier in her life with her mum. At times, I'm afraid to go too much into detail or talk too much, because I'm afraid it'll bring up sad memories that she would rather not remember. But my friend's reassuring look told me to go on, for she is listening.

"What makes me so sad and worry is seeing mum not move an just sit there..." I said, "I know, no, I can imagine that she is in a lot of pain, but sitting there and not moving is bad for her..."

Mum friend agreed. Her mum, in the final stage of her illness said "no" to everything. "Do you want to go abroad and travel?" No. "Do you want to go to the hot spring?" No. "Do you want to take this medicine?" No. No. No was the answer to everything.

Will mum also descend to such a level and refuse to do anything...?

message from a friend

"I know you will be a very happy and successful person because you are able to make the best of whatever circumstances you have got. Just be patient and things will get simpler. I promise."

 Yes, one day, I will be happy.

AMS-LHR-NCL

A dozen minutes or so before landing at NCL. Within the next hour, everything I've planned over the past two, three weeks will be realised.

Will it all go according to plan, according to how I imagine it in my head?

How very exciting this all is. And in a way, how very romantic too. Romantic in the most general sense... In the sense that someone would travel so far, go through all sorts of trouble, go to all lengths just to spring up a wonderful surprise on you. Romantic also in the 'love' sense... What would you do to make someone feel loved and appreciated? A lot.

How far would you go to let them know you care? Far, far...