49 days

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Two hours or so after mum passed away, three nuns gathered to chant a prayer for mum. It is a familiar Buddhist prayer from one of the sutras recited in the original Pali language used at the time of the Lord Buddha over two thousand years ago. It is a familiar prayer with a familiar melody, for it is often used at funerals.

Today marks 49 days since mum passed away. 49 days already. Over a month already. A slow, and at times grueling, 49 days. According to local beliefs, today marks yet another important moment after death, for the spirit of the deceased is said to have moved on and possibly reincarnated into another being. Where you become reincarnated and as what depends on your karma and the merit you have made throughout your life.

A few days ago, to celebrate my sister in law's birthday, I treated her and my brother (and little nephew) to a fancy meal at a restaurant that mum and I went to back in October last year. I found pictures of mum and showed it to them, and pointed out where we were sitting back then and what we ordered. It was a wonderful evening, and in a way a commemoration of mum at a place where she once ate at. Tonight, we all went out to a restaurant, and despite the smiles and sharing a tableful of good food, I felt this empty presence... I looked to my side, at the chair and imagined mum sitting there with us, smiling, munching away and chit-chatting with us...


49 days, or seven weeks, since mum's passing, and exactly two weeks till my departure. More and more, a lot of mum's belongings are being put into boxes. More and more, this home is becoming less a home and more a place with brown boxes and heaps of things to be given or thrown away...

Mum, wherever you may be now, know that you are missed and will never be forgotten...
Go, go and be free and be happy...

New home

I began crying almost as soon as I saw the sea. For four years, the view of the vast open Pacific was associated with the view dad would 'see' from his final resting place. After today's events, mum would share the same view...

Mum 'moved' into her final resting place today. We prepared some of her favourite foods and drinks and after a quick and solemn ceremony at the temple, we brought her remains up to the sixth floor. It's the VIP section, a beautifully decorated and bright section of the temple where urns can be kept behind a 'deposit-box' like space with a transparent glass cover. The urn is placed all the way at the back, whereas in front is a little space containing the statue of a Buddha, and room to place some personal items.

We picked out two pictures of mum, both of which were of her smiling dazzlingly. One is her in southern France, about to enter a fancy restaurant I believe. It shot that was captured captured the moment a cat jumped onto her shoulders. She bent over and laughed from the sudden surprise of it all. Brother took this picture. The other picture is of mum on a train in Switzerland. We were going somewhere together, on perhaps our fifth trip to Switzerland together. She looked outside the window and had a beautiful smile-- a smile showing quiet contentment and a certain gentleness. I took this picture. Inside her new 'home', right next to her urn, we placed her glasses and a pair of her sunglasses. "She would need these if she were to go traveling," brother said. Indeed in various pictures of her, she is seen with her darkened lenses against the brightness of a sunny day. We placed her wallet inside too, with the remaining NT$1100 and some spare coins she had in her wallet the day she left the hospital. We took out her cards, namely her national ID card and national health insurance card. We would like to keep those, for memory's sake. But we placed in her wallet a public transport travel card. "In case she needs it to get from place to place," brother joked.


Just before heading to the temple with mum's remains, I picked up two more things that eventually decorated her new 'home'. A wooden tulip, a symbol of the Netherlands where she lived for so many years and where my brother and his family lives, and a gold-plated maple leaf, a symbol of where I live and where she had fond, fond memories of her last trip abroad. These momentos would remain with her forever. These moments would remind us of who mum was, and where she made and shared with us beautiful, beautiful memories.

As the left the temple, I looked back at it. I cried. I could not control my tears or my thoughts. Before, it was just my dad, but from now on, both my parents are resting there. The depth of loss and pain dawned on me, clearer and more painfully than ever before. For several moments, I could not help but shed such sadness and tears. I pressed my head against the car window and tried to get ahold of myself, tried to tame my emotions. But the pain was tearing my heart apart.

"Farewell, mum..." I thought inside my head, "Please take good care of yourself... I will do the same..." Or at least, I will try to do the same. "I will be strong, so you don't have to worry about me..." My face contorted in spite, and my lips quivered from the pain. My ex saw that, and extended his hand to comfort me. But the pain is deep, and the pain is so deeply personal.

I grabbed the heart-shaped pillow that was part of my Mother's Day gift to her, my last Mother's Day gift to her. The heart stayed with her at the hospice till the very end. The bright red heart, and two stuffed animals, were there at the hospice with her, watching over her. The animals attended the funeral too, and got front row seats. They accompanied mum on the final stage of her journey, and also came along to bid her a final farewell. I held onto the heart-shaped pillow tightly, pretended it was my mother's warm body I was holding.

I closed my eyes, tried to shut away the loss and pain. Sleep drowned it all, drowned out the emotions and pain. I was woken up half an hour later or so to a calming, beautiful sunset. Golden and orange rays pierced the sky and dyed the inside of the minivan in a soft and soothing tone as the sun slowly set behind mountains surrounding Taipei. Gone were the tears, and the rain, from earlier in the day.

In Taiwan, a sudden dramatic spell of rain followed by a brightening of the sky is an auspicious omen. It is cause for rejoicing, and on the day when we bid farewell to mum, it is cause to find comfort in the fact that the heavens watching over her, and that she will have a steady onward journey to the world hereafter. 

"Farewell, mama... farewell, and walk steadily onward..."

Eve of the funeral

I don't know what to write. Tomorrow is the funeral. I feel like I've not had much rest or time to reflect on what mum's death really means. Been busy with my ex here. And every day there are many phone calls and things to arrange. I feel exhausted, and yet at night I cannot sleep. I am afraid to sleep.

Today, while taking a nap in the afternoon, mum appeared in my dream. She wore one of the dresses I picked out for her. She looked alright, healthy and normal at least. I saw myself standing in front of her. I raised my hands and wanted to heal her. But instead, I broke down and cried. I woke up sobbing. Sobbing like I've not done since that night at Niagara Falls. I cried myself awake. It was so painful that my heart hurt so badly. I felt the tears were unstoppable. My ex lay by my side and tried to console me. But I felt so distant, so far away from everyone, everything. I felt such terrible void that it ached my heart so...

Tomorrow is the funeral. I have all the slideshow pictures prepared. I have a stack of notes written by people that are intended to be for mum. I am supposed to say a little something, have been encouraged to do it. Initially, before we started planning for the whole event, before a series of setbacks and people issues, I felt enthused to say something. But yesterday I suddenly became hesitant. I feel so unprepared...

But what is it that I am unprepared for? Unprepared to see mum's body shoved into the oven? Unprepared to see her lying there again? Unprepared for what...?

Mum's dear fiend and colleague

"I'm not going to cry now... These thirty years as colleagues, friends, all these memories. Going mountain climbing, going shopping, going for afternoon tea, going for meditation. You never shed a tear, even as you went though so much difficulties..."

Mum last saw this friend of over thirty years back in February. I was there when she came to visit back then. This time, mum is no longer here. 

She cried as she said all those words before mum's shrine. When I called her up the other day and told her about mum's passing, she was ever so grateful. But I know they are very close, and that they only grew apart because mum's friend's own mother has been very sickly these past five years. I know exactly how much of a burden it weighs on your shoulders to take care of a sick parent.

She sat with us for a few hours in the living room, where whenever guests come, I hook up my computer to the big TV screen and let the slideshow containing mum's pictures run. That way, people can see mum in all different poses, at different times, see how she has changed, see how she has kept that smile of hers, even though in the background we know she is hurting and in great discomfort, even though behind the scenes, cancer is lurking around.

The auntie saw my brother and I grow up, for my brother is thirty-two this year, and mum began working at the office where she met this auntie around the same time three decades ago. "Your mother is such a dear friend. She never cried or complained. She never let us know anything, and swallowed her own pain..." Yes, that was my dear, brave mother.

At the end of the visit, the friend wrote on a piece of paper a few words for mum: "Kind, compassionate, warm spirited". These are the memories this auntie has when she thinks of mum. And these words, these memories will join a dozen others to commemorate a remarkable human being, who passed on too soon...

People problems

I wanted to spend the first weekiversary of mum's passing quietly and reflect on what happened...

But worldly affairs kept me occupied, and that moment, 20.05, came and went, never to return again.  Mum passed away, moved on to a world away from this one that is full of issues and conflicts, full of problems created by people and misunderstandings. I do not know what is in the world beyond, but really often I wonder why if the world is already so full of discontents and imperfections, people must still somehow find a way to create even more problems.

Just spent over ten minutes on the phone with the priest who is supposed to take care of mum's funeral arrangements and make sure her transition from this world to the next takes place as smoothly as possible. This morning he called to say he quit, because of disagreements with my uncle (mum's second brother). "A personality problem," the priest said, and explained everything comes down to respect, mutual respect. I don't know what clash of personality has taken place, all I know is that the priest and my uncle were on the phone for over an hour last night.

Brother is close to tears now that the priest quit. "All I want is to make sure everything goes smoothly, and that mum can go peacefully..." After spending so long on the phone with the priest, I had to comfort him, reassure him that even if he quits, it does not really matter.

"It is all just rituals and  rites. And so if not everything is perfectly followed according to how it should be done?" I told him. In my mind, what matters most is our intentions and our actions. And I believe that my brother and I have done everything we possibly could to be with mum and to give her a beautiful end to a life well lived. Just because there are certain rites and rituals that are not followed properly and conducted under the guidance of a priest trained in the 'invisible arts', does that mean that mum's spirit will suffer and that she will forever be condemned to a life of pain and suffering in the hereafter?

I believe in karma, not mysticism and rituals thought up by people. If we do good, we put good energy into the universe, and we will receive good energy in return. And I believe mum has been a good person, and that she has done a lot of good in her life. Even the monk in the mountains said so, for why else would she be surrounded by so many loved ones and have so much good fortune throughout her life, and especially at the end of it?

 Problems are created, and are never there in the physical sense. They are mental states, just like emotions and feelings are. And they are created by people.

If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it's not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.
Dalai Lama

Ceremony

To be honest, often I did not know what was being chanted. I'm not sure anyone knows. The text is a collection of words that make a symphony of sounds, sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes touching, sometimes invigorating. The chanting is supposed to welcome the spirit home and guide the spirit to a finer place beyond this realm. And the ceremony master said mum is home.

The ritual of tou-chi took place tonight, and we concluded a little after eleven, which is symbolically the beginning of the seventh day after passing. Looking back at dad's passing four years ago, I realised there is one similarity: both with dad and mum today, we went to the household registration office (city hall if you like) to have the person officially registered as no longer living.

The funeral planner came by again and explained to us the details of the funeral next Friday, and gave us a breakdown of the costs. I explained to him the little personal touches I want to include during the ceremony, and he said it will not be a problem. It is not, I hope, going to be a sad event. With a slideshow of pictures and notes left behind by people, it is going to be a review of a colourful life well lived by a person who touched many hearts. Especially mine.

The ceremony was a little delayed, because initially we could not begin right away. We had to wait for mum's spirit to return, which we could know by posing questions and looking for signs by tossing coins (the ritual is explained here...). For a while, mum did not return, and then we thought of why. We were only my brother, my sister-in-law and I, and my nephew stayed away at a hotel, for it is way past his bedtime. We explained to mum why my nephew stayed away, and immediately there was a sign that she was present, an that we could begin.

We chanted for over an hour, from various sutras. I followed the text, but my eyes kept on wandering to the digital photo-frame I had prepared and loaded with pictures of mum. Seeing her pictures make me smile, and various times, as the three ladies who came to chant were deep in chanting mode, I had to contain my smile and try to keep a serious face. Seeing mum in various poses, at various locations on so many pictures, each with its own story and anecdotes, made me smile and feel so blessed...

At the closing of the ceremony tonight, we were asked to kneel and bow on the floor as a sign of deep reverence and reflection. Again, I wished mum happiness in the hereafter, happiness and peace, calm and liberation. I told her in my heart that she can go in peace and that I will be alright. I know I will be, because I am her child. I know I will be, because I have her watching over me.

Seventh day

The seventh day after passing is a crucial milestone. Tradition says the deceased comes back to bid farewell to those left behind and to take a good look at where the home where the deceased used to reside in. As the day of passing counts as the first day, and as according to the lunar calendar, a new day begins at eleven at night, tonight we will cross over to the seventh day.

A two hour chanting session is planned for tonight from nine till eleven. The chanting of (Mahayana) Buddhist prayers can aid mum on her way toward freeing herself from wandering around the world. It is supposed to help her move on to the world hereafter. It's also believed the chanting will give merit to the deceased, those left behind chant to the deity of the underworld to help guide mum on her way toward liberation...

Many relatives came today, as did several of mum's colleagues from her last work place close to the seaside. The colleagues found put yesterday when I called one of mum's closest friends. She broke down during re conversation and had to hang up and call back later to collect herself. They used to chat regularly, and mum helped his auntie a lot. While mum worked there, she used to buy car food to feed the strays in the back of the office. Yes, my mum was a cat lover, and a compassionate person. Once one of the strays was injured, and mum arranged to take it to the vet. Another time, a mother gave birth to a litter of kittens, and mum helped to have them vaccinated. This auntie took over the feeding and taking care of the cats.

Many on dad's side of the family came today, and they sat around for a while looking at pictures of mum. My big aunt (dad's oldest sister) at one point cried and said that mum was so kind and that mum went "too soon". I told them, as I tell everyone who comes to visit, how peacefully mum left, and how her life was one well lived. I told them that all with a smile. Seeing pictures of mum and I on one of our many adventures does not make me sad or emotional (not yet?) When I see mum on pictures, when I see her smile, an at times at my insistence, strike a "cute pose" with one of my stuffed animals, I cannot but smile and recall sweet, sweet times we had...

I am tired still, and have barely had time to really mourn. My brother seems to be in such a hurry to deal with affairs, which at times irritates me. There's no hurry, but he seems eager to get all the legal stuff and paperwork done. Maybe it is an attempt to jeep busy so as not to feel or cry? I don't know. I just feel it's all so soon, for it's barely been a week, and between planning for the funeral, informing relatives and friends, and entertaining visitors, we've not really had time to sit down and collect ourselves.

I still have yet to write down what happened, what really happened, that day...

Pick up

23.11

Sitting here in a room, sitting right to mum's body. A chanting machine is playing in the background. mum's body which is covered over with a yellow piece of cloth with scriptures. Waiting for the hearse to come pick her body up and take it to the morgue.

I'm just in a daze. Not sad. Just tired. Not shaken, just strangely calm.

It is all so surreal.

Conflict

I went home today in the morning, and even before I opened the door, i heard some shouting. Later I found out what.

The source of the conflict is mum's farewell ceremony (as it is know in Taiwan, in other words the funeral). It'll be held at the funeral parlor, which is a large site run by the city government containing several halls where funeral services can be held. If it is like how dad's funeral was arranged, we will be given a time slot, after which the body will be taken to the crematorium and cremated. Last time it was easy, because it was just adults. But this time, we have a little baby.

First of all, my nephew is getting more capricious and difficult to handle. He really cannot sit still for more than five minutes without whining or crying, so it's really not appropriate for him to be present at the funeral. Second of all, in local beliefs, very young children are supposed to be more 'sensitive' to the supernatural, and tend to also be more susceptible to 'interference' by spirits. It is not so much mum's spirit we are afraid of, but rather the spirits of others who are lingering around the place. And god only knows how many there are, especially at a crematorium!

My sister-in-law resolutely opposes taking my nephew to the funeral, mainly because she is afraid of how it will affect the baby. Brother said that ever since my nephew came back to Taipei to stay with us, he has been suddenly waking up in the middle of the night crying. Is it related to what he sees at the hospital when he visits mum? Who knows. Whatever the reason, my sister-in-law does not want the baby to be there. She can be there, and she will be there, but just not the baby...

But this may contravene some Taiwanese traditions, for the funeral is the final "farewell ceremony", and all the children and grandchildren are supposed to be there. It may even be seen as bad omen if the grandchildren are not there, for it may forespell bad fortunes for future generations to come. Whether this is superstition or myth, the absence of my nephew at the event may trigger some talk amongst family members...

So that was the argument, and while brother and I went to look for a place to place mum's temporary shine in the morning, my sister-in-law came to see mum and told her about her worries about my nephew. She somehow went home and ended up crying, I'm not sure what about or why. All I know is this issue is a strain on my brother and his wife's relationship.

I told brother over dinner to talk things through with her, and to try to find a compromise. "Be kind and gentle, don't force things," I told him. It's bad enough there have been tensions because of brother's bad temper these days, we don't need him to come across as unsympathetic and trying to force something his wife does not feel comfortable doing. Later, brother revealed to me that he himself is not too keen on the idea of taking his baby boy to the funeral parlor. "You remember that day when dad was cremated and when we had to pick his bones?" He was referring to a Taiwanese tradition, whereby the next of kin remaining are expected to pick up a piece of the bone of the deceased and place it into the urn. "Such a cruel tradition! I still have dreams about that till this day..." brother said. It is obvious that some of the traditions here offend him and he is uncomfortable himself, let alone have his very young boy exposed to a lot of things...

In the meantime, I spoke to mum again and explained the situation. Somehow, I seem to be able to get  her attention and understanding, and mum did not feel offended or angry any more. Her initial response was that she did not wish my sister-in-law to be at the funeral, which would have been a terrible indictment and cause considerable strain on their marriage (I would imagine....). But after I explained and tried to give mum all angles to the story, she softened and said she would not mind if the grandchild/my nephew were not there on that day. "He will go visit you in your resting place, that is for sure," I assured mum, "But it's just not convenient for him to be at the funeral. You see how noisy and unruly he can become, even just at the hospital!"

So for now, a crisis seems to have been averted. And I am glad I was able to play a role in lubricating the wheels and playing the peacemaker....

This is the law!

I was surprised to hear that when mum passes we cannot go home and make a temporary altar for her at home to shelter her spirit. brother went to ask the governing committee of our apartment, and they said their regulation is such.

But I have not seen such regulation. Legal studies has taught me not to believe in anything you have not yourself scrutinised.

Most basic of all, a ban on having any altar placed in one's private home violates common sense. Why can you not do something in the privacy of your own home? As a policeman I inquired said, if you want to turn your home into a garbage dump you can! Even the police need a warrant to come and search, so how can a self-appointed "committee" have such far reaching powers? "They're inflating their own powers! Put it crudely, will those people not have people die in their homes?"

And according to the law, there is no such law! I called the city government's funeral services department, and the lady on the phone said if there is such a regulation adopted by the governing committee, it is preposterous. She was even more worked up than I was, and I was pretty upset. She even told me to go back to the committee and tone it down and explain to them that there is no such law prohibiting the establishment of an altar in the privacy of one's own home.

I wanted to verify, and also get even more support when I come to speak to the committee about this issue again, so I headed to the police station and sought advice. Two policemen were extremely kind and helpful. There is such a thing (just as I suspected...) as customs and rituals which must be respected no matter what. The law does not operate in a vacuum, and I have faith in the legal system in this country to be fair and just. The police confirmed my thoughts about the law being applied with due regard to the specific circumstances and context of the local customs. Any regulation, even if promulgated by the national legislature, let alone a puny "governing committee" of some apartment building, which contradicts a long standing custom or tradition that is not too obscene or contrary to modern day standards, can be struck down and declared void by the court.

The policeman said we don't need to go that far as to go to court, for emphasised that the law is on our side. Why can one not return to one's own home even after you have passed away? What pompous powers have the "governing committee" granted themselves that the government does not even dare to do--ie regulate and interfere with one's right to worship the deceased or follow one's religious or customary beliefs? "Don't care too much about they said. You just go ahead with you plans, and if there's anything, just call us!" one policeman said as he proceeded to write down the number of a direct line. As long as any noise we create does not result in a constant nuisance, the building's "governing committee" or neighbours who should complain cannot do anything to stop us from practising a long-standing customary rite to pay respects to one's deceased. "And if they do complain, we'll just come and the most we'll  do is issue a written notice. We won't do anything against your right to worship!"

Reassured, I went back home and spoke to the building manager. I was polite and spoke in Taiwanese to give that sense of familiarity and comradery. Initially he told me what he told my brother last week: that the building committee decided not to allow such private altars be placed in the building. His explanation was that people would complain if too many friends or relatives came to pay respects, as it would disturb the peace. I smiled and turned the comment he made back at him. "Isn't it strange that when someone is still alive it would be ok to invite a bunch of people over, and yet to have people when someone is no longer living would be a problem?" He had nothing to respond to that, and proceeded to call one of the members of this "governing committee".

A lady came down, and I explained what we wanted to do. "We just want to take mum home after she passes. All we want is to erect a little altar to direct her spirit home." That really is all we want. No fanfare, no grand ceremony, we do not even plan to take the body home (as some do do...) and keep it at home until the day of the funeral. We won't be in anyone's way.

Bizarrely, the lady relented and said it would be not a problem-- which was not what I was expecting after what was said to my brother last week. I had rehearsed all I had learned from the call to the city government and from what I learned  at the police station. I was ready to cite constitutional rights to privacy and how certain regulations can be voided if they contradict  long standing customs and rites. But it was not necessary. The battle was won even before it began.

Delighted, I told brother the great news. News that saves us a lot of worry and also a lot of time and money needed to look for an alternative place for mum's altar when she passes away...

Shopping for mum

"What are the shoes for?" the young lady asked.

"They're for... They're for..." I stuttered and struggled to find the words. The words were on the tip of my tongue but they did not dare to escape. Until: "For the deceased."

She did not looked shocked or surprised. Perhaps it's because the store is on a busy street next to two big hospitals. Perhaps she got this kind of request before. "So we have here this kind of shoes made of fabric."
She showed me ones that were for young girls. A bit too flashy and hip for the dress I chose for mum to wear.

Then she showed me another pair, which were more suitable. Black shoes made of fabric with a strap down the middle. They were decent looking. Only shame bit about them was the fact they were made in China...

"There's not much choice, not at this hour..." the lady said. "And it's taboo for the shoes to be worn by someone younger..." I wanted to say that I'm not in a hurry to look for the shoes, and that I was buying them in preparation for mum's passing. I wanted to say it might be very soon. But that conversation only played out in my head. All I did was nod and paid for the shoes.

Together with the pair of white gloves I bought at a fashion accessories store, I headed back to the hospital. The white gloves are another part of tradition, and i managed to some for ladies who want to protect them hands from sunburn while riding motorcycles. The fabric shoes are for mum to wear. They have to be fabric because they will incinerate better. Leather shoes might not completely incinerate, and I was told that you run the risk that part of the body is not completely cremated. That would be just horrible... Horrible...

I have what we need now. With the dress I chose and placed clandestinely in the cupboard in mum's room, we are now prepared for that moment. I took out the shoes again to inspect them and carefully put them back in their packaging and original box. Mum slept and snored a little with her mouth open.

The next time I open the box, mum will no longer be snoring...

Clothes

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I almost cried. It was harder than I thought, and made even harder due to the fatigue I was feeling from the jetlag.

It was so easy the other day to ask mum about what dresses she likes and what she'd like to wear. But rummaging through her wardrobe hit me hard, even though there were two aunties next to me and helping me choose. I knew best what mum likes and what looks good on her. And I needed to choose four outfits for her. One would be bagged and I would have to take with me to the hospital clandestinely. It will only be opened after she passes...

I took out that dress, I knew which one exactly. She wore it first in the summer of 2003, almost a decade ago to attend brother's graduation in London. A black dress with beautiful green embroidery around the waist, to which she liked to add a colourful cape to make brighten the entire attire. She wore it last last year to attend the wedding of her best friend's daughter.
She looks so young and elegant in that dress. The next time she wears it, she will have stopped breathing...

I stroked the dress, felt the soft fabric and tried to contain my emotions. It is hard, so very hard to know next time I see this very dress mum will have gone... How do you deal with that? How can I go about rummaging through her wardrobe without her knowledge, preparing for her demise? All she knows I came home to shower and rest...

But my mind is restless and so very heavy... As heavy as the unusual onslaught of downpour that has caused several deaths and flooding all over the country...

To the dress we added her wig, shoes, socks, and according to tradition we must also prepare a pair of white gloves. more sets of clothes have to be prepared, clothes which will be 'offered' to her by burning them after she passes. But that is for another ritual, which takes place only on the hundredth day of her passing...
How can we even think of that day when mum is still around?

Carefully I bagged the sets of clothes and placed them under mum's bed. One set, the one for mum to change into when that final day comes, I placed into my backpack and planned to sneak it into mum's room.

One more thing done in preparation for that day...

Restless night

Had such a restless night full of dreams which woke up me several times. Dreams of my ex, dreams of mum... Everytime I open my eyes, I turn my head and can just about see her lie there on her bed. I wonder what she is thinking, how she is feeling, and whether she is in a lot of pain...

Just before sleep last night, I wrote an email to my ex. He's been writing to me the last three days, short but encouraging emails. The way we said goodbye made it very difficult to know how to contact him. He said he would "deal with things". He even told a mutual friend that things would change "in the next twelve hours" (from the moment he went off to see his boyfriend with the intention of breaking up...). I left the country, and he did not even call to say goodbye, and instead just sent me a short text message to wish me a safe journey.

So I'm left unsure what his status is now, and am very uncomfortable contacting him. Why? Because he could have just been pretending and putting up a show till I leave. As far as I know, he could tell me he wants to deal with things, but instead doesn't because I'd be gone anyways...

My unease in contacting him comes from the fact that he's told me before I am manipulative and even hinted at the fact I use my mother's situation to influence his feelings toward me. I wrote to him because I wanted to let him know the conversation mum and I had about him the other day, when i told her, in an attempt to reassure her, that my ex cares a lot about me, and that is a possibility of a future between us.

And I asked him in my email something I've been meaning to ask him, because I see it and dream about it: to be there when I bid a final farewell to mum...

I don't know why, but I only feel comfortable for him to be there when he is no longer attached to anyone. I would like him to be there, because I imagine I would need someone to hold and to be with me. I would need someone I can be comfortable with and not have any reservations confiding in. And I cannot do that with just any person... I can do that with him, but only really when he is free from obligations to another. Otherwise, I'd feel like I'm hogging someone else's man and feel the need to hold back. And I feel when that day comes, I cannot afford to hold back my emotions and feelings...

Is it selfish of me to want my ex to be there by my side on perhaps the most challenging day of my life in a long time to come? Is it selfish to only want him to be there if he is free from engagements of a previous relationship? Is it selfish to want him all to myself? I just feel I need that, I deserve that, and I need that more than ever now that I am about to lose mum...

Affairs

Barely forty-eight hours after my return, I have had to go through two important experiences.

The insurance man came by mum's hospice room to discuss details of a large payout. She had insured herself against cancer a couple of years back, and the good thing is that every single hospital visit, overnight stay at the hospital (including the hospice) and every single treatment and operation is covered and even compensated by the insurance company. That was a relief to know, as the hospital bills, despite coverage by the national health insurance, have been mounting especially as mum opted for better treatment to deal with the tumour in her spine.

Then the insurance man came up to me and started explaining to me how in the event of mum's death a life insurance premium would be paid out. I was still tired from the jetlag because it was early afternoon, so  I was in a daze and wasn't really paying attention. Besides, I felt very uncomfortable as mum was right there in the room. He got out a piece of paper and asked mum to sign it in front of him. Mum grabbed a pen, and I could see her hand was shaking. What used to take seconds took literally minutes. Mum's signature was wobbly and a little off, and she struggled hard to hold the pen steady. But the insurance guy said that it should be fine, or otherwise they will call back and verify on the phone if necessary.

The very next day, I had to sneak away and 'lie' to mum where I was going. I said I was just going home to shower, as I had not been home for two days, but in fact I went to meet up with my brother and my uncle (mum's second brother), and we were going to the funeral planner to arrange affairs. We did not want to let mum know, fearing that it might offend her or make her think we are 'plotting' her passing. But we know these things have to be arranged and dealt with so we are not suddenly caught off guard, like we were last time with dad's passing.

We made our way to the funeral home to discuss details of where mum would have her farewell ceremony (funeral), where the cremation would be, and we even looked at urns (but didn't decide on one). Most important of all, we were looking for a place to honour mum straight after her passing and before her funeral, for according to Taiwanese tradition we must have a special altar dedicated to the deceased, where the spirit of the deceased can reside immediately after passing.

We looked at a few places, and either they were too crowded or too expensive. Ideally, we wanted to have it at home, like it was the case with dad, but the building manager of the apartment we live in told my brother the other day that it is not possible to do so, because the building managing committee decided to forbid anyone taking the deceased back home. It is very surprising , for why does it even matter what we do in the privacy of our own home? Further, how can a building committee suddenly do away from eons of tradition that has passed down from generation to generation as a way to honour and respect the deceased? None of us are happy about this, for it causes a lot of hassle, and may in the end end up costing us a lot of money if we have to hire a special room to "house" mum's spirit till the day of the funeral. The rent per day costs as much as a hotel room!

Shortly after lunch, we returned to the hospital together with a Toaist priest, one mum has entrusted her spiritual "affairs" to be arranged by (it is the same priest as the one who arranged my dad's funeral, one I had serious disagreements with and sometimes skeptical doubts about his ability to communicate with the dead...). The priest wanted to come see mum himself to see how her condition is, and also to ask her some questions.

The priest leaned over mum's bed, while brother sat by mum's side. I climbed onto the end of mum's bed and sat by her feet. We spent sometime discussing how she wanted her funeral to be, and what clothes she wanted. It was a difficult discussion, more because we were not sure how mum would respond to all this. But she looked very much at ease, and was very peaceful and seemed alright to be talking about this all. I showed her pictures of the dresses I thought she would like, pictures  I  had taken of her in those dresses when she wore them last.

Though tired and her voice was very feeble, we talked for quiet some time. I kept holding onto mum's hand, silently reassuring her things will be alright, and to tell her in a way, with  a 'human touch', that I hope the conversation was not too difficult or awkward.

The farewell

Pictures of my uncle flashed across a large display. Pictures of when he was younger, pictures posing with my aunt, posing with my cousins, posing with the grandchildren. The pictures told a story, recounted times gone by, moments disappeared, and memories that would forever fade were it not for the pictures that managed to capture them and later remind those still around of the simple, kind man who once lived touched the lives of so many...

It poured as the ceremony proceeded. Relatives came from all over the country to pay final respects. My uncle's colleagues, friends, and even the mayor of the city and various councillors arrived after the private ceremony to offer incense and fruits and drinks. He was an educator, a father, a husband. My cousins read out personal letters describing his kindness. He liked to share, my cousin remembered. Whenever he read an inspiration piece in the newspaper, he would cut it out and send it to family ad friends. My mum has many of such cuttings in her drawer, and the other day I saw one my uncle sent her back in November last year. There was a letter accompanying the newspaper cut out in which my uncle encouraged my mum, and told her she has done well raising two fine children.

My cousin described the final moments, how, as my uncle struggled and breathed laboriously, he kept on telling my uncle "Breathe normally, we're almost home..." (Tradition says it's best when one is nearing the final moment to be brought to the comfort and familiarity of home...)

Various people from the funeral service walked around and handed people tissues to wipe away their tears. From the corner of my eye I saw brother crying. He was clearly moved, and perhaps painful saw in the flower arrangements, in the huge calligraphy writings that adorned the make-shift altar, and in the presence of so many people all gathered to pay final respects that one day it will be his/our turn... One day, it will be my brother and I standing there in black, bowing silently one by one to those who come and offer incense, foods, flowers and fruits.

I stood and watched the ceremony, as if I were a bystander, merely a bystander. I was moved, yet not to tears. My uncle is gone now, I remember hearing in my mind, "May he be at ease and go peacefully..." I stood and fantasised and wondered how it will be when it it is my turn... Will there be someone at my side? Will there be someone to hold my hand? Will I be as calm and as dry as I am now? What a thing to think about at my uncle's final farewell...!

On the train home, I used the opportunity to speak to brother. "See how quickly it happens, how quickly people go..." I told him to really treasure the time he has with mum, to try to be there more, to do more for her. "Even if just sitting by her side means a lot... And a little touch can be so comforting and take away a little of her pains..." I said. I hoped that he would heed my words, and be more "touching"... as in touch mum more, feel her skin, touch her body, her hands, her feet. "It would mean so much to her..."

Delivering the news

I waited for an opportune moment to break the news. But when is it a good time to tell someone a member of the family has passed away? When is a good time to tell someone who has been struggling with life and has barely fought off death about the passing of another?

I thought of ways to say it without being too shocking or dramatic. The anxiety was eating me, and I had a hard time eating ad digesting dinner. I broke the news as I led mum out her room for a little walk around the ward.

"Mum, I have to tell you something about uncle..." Dad's older sister's husband.

Mum immediately panicked. Her eyes opened up wide, as if afraid of the bad news. "What's wrong with him? What is happening?"

"He left..." We Taiwanese are good with euphemisms, and nowhere throughout the conversation were the words "death" or "dead" ever mentioned.

Mum stood there and her shoulders sank. She closed her eyes and fought back tears. We walked in silence, heavy in thought. The silence was interrupted by a phone call from brother which I needed to pick up, for earlier he told me my nephew seems to have fallen ill and is having a bad case of diarrhoea...

I looked at mum throughout my conversation with brother. She looked so sad, so shaken by the news of my uncle's passing. I held her hand to comfort her.

"He was such a kind and good person..." I know, it's cliche to say something like this about the deceased, but in this case, it is very true. Mum was so shocked, because it all happened so fast. From diagnosis to treatment, to reoccurrence and to the cancer taking him away all within a year or so. My mind seems trapped and unable to forget when I saw him last year at brother's wedding, when he looked so lost and so tormented beyond speech after his first chemo session. And now he is gone.

"Your uncle and aunt had a beautiful relationship. Your aunt must be devastated..." It's true, they seemed to do everything together, and little has changed in their household ever since I have known them (thus since I was a little, little boy...). They would walk off to bed at night hand in hand. They would wake up every morning and go out and exercise together. They would cook together, sit in the study and read next to one another. Every time I visit them and stay over, you can expect the same routine, the same kind of stability between the two. And often I looked at their marriage, while all around me marriages were failing, and imagined that perhaps theirs is the exemplary one.

"He cared so much about me, and often wrote to me..." My uncle certainly did, and sometimes functioned as a sort of messenger because my aunt (his wife) has always looked down on my mum (for various reasons...). But my uncle never was drawn into that and always stayed neutral and could always give good advice and always had a kind word to say.

I don't know if the thought of her own fragility crossed her mind. I would imagine it must have... I patted her hand and said little. Though, appropriate or not, I did want to tell mum, using uncle's passing as an example, that she should really treasure life, especially after all the fighting she has done... Especially all the fighting she is still doing.

Mum agreed that I should travel to to the south of the country to pay my respects as early as tomorrow. It need not be said, but when my second aunt (dad's first younger sister) called earlier today crying, I was thinking the same thing. She was informing me and though unsaid, as the a member of the younger generation, it is expected that I go and pay my respects and visit my aunt and cousins to express my condolences, as well give a "white envelop"-- an amount of money that is traditionally given to the bereaving family when someone passes away.

I need to head down very soon, either tomorrow or the day after as brother seems to be too ill and needs more rest.