"Oh what I'd give for a hundred years..."

"Oh, what I'd give for a hundred years,

But the physical interferes,

Everyday more, my Creator.

Oh, what good is the strongest heart,

In a body that's falling apart...?"

The actress half lay on the floor, weakened and defeated. Illness has robbed her of her strength, her courage, her fame and glory. Death is lurking and stalking her, life is fading away. How Evita must have felt toward the end of her life? How powerfully it was captured in song and on stage by the performance of Andrew Lloyd Weber's musical, one of my all time favorites...

The musical was a delight, and something I'd looked forward to some time. In my late teens, I listened to it repeatedly (without realising the true meaning of "dressed up to the nines" or "at sixes and sevens"). One song in particular, "another suitcase, another hall" I felt poignantly described my life.... Always moving, never stable, my family spread across the world, my destiny so unclear and unknown... And for those many years when (first dad and later to a greater extent) mum was ill, my suitcase was always close by and half packed ready to go at an instant's notice. 

Seeing Evita succumb to (as I realised only this weekend) cancer brought back a lot of emotions and memories... For the couple of months, I have been so consumed with work i feel like I've not even had time to "feel". Being someone who is normally in tune with and driven by emotions, I began to feel uncaring and detached from life and the rest of the world. I feel so drained and so very unhappy, even though I was busy and making more money than usual. Soon after the show, in my friends apartment, I stared out the window at the night cityscape, and described how I feel... 

And I sobbed. The first time in a long, long time, even though often at night, when all's so quiet when the world is asleep, the feelings of emptiness and longing flood my heart and bring me close to bursting out in tears. As I told my friend, more and more mum and dad appear before me together, whereas before it was either one or the other. 

Is it so that after some time the dead just get lumped together? Is it true that after some time you just blur death and all those memories of illness and hospital visits together? I've tried hard not to think of and let my thoughts drift there... But seeing evita on the floor and lamenting her body succumbing to illness, I could not do anything else...

Those long nights, and difficult days at the hospital seem like an eternity away now. But I can still see it, smell it, feel it. It was overwhelming, traumatic and horribly painful to endure. And that was just for me, a bystander. How it must have been for dad, for mum! For my friends. For my uncle... For all these millions of cancer patients, and other sufferers of chronical and terminal illnesses, and their families. 

What kept me sane? What kept me alive? The belief of love that will heal me. The belief  that one day I will find someone who will truly heal me and pick me up and fill that void inside. A void that is still void. 

And now, two and a half years on since mum's passing, almost seven years since dad's passing, I am still standing, seemingly going strong. But at times I wonder what holds it all together. Because in moments of solitude, at night and in moment of silence, I can hear the darkness and painful memories echo, I can feel the void vibrate. 

There are moments after my lectures when I stand in the empty classroom and wonder whether my parents are there sitting in the back, smiling at me on the sofa in the back...

There are moments at work when I am so stressed and my eyes so tired that I think of my parents and just doing that would give me a burst of perseverance... Are they proud of me? Would they be proud of me and what I have become and done since they left this world? I sure hope so...

Crying

I told him what would happen when I hang up the phone.
 And it happened. I cried almost immediately, am crying now, and cannot stop....

For the second (or third?) day in a row, my ex called to check up on me. I was just getting home, didn't even have the time to put down my bag when the music in my earphones (these days I always have earphones on, to drown out the thoughts and frightening emptiness...) suddenly stopped and the ringingtone of my phone sounded. We chatted, but as always, most of the conversation was about me... (how selfish I have become indeed...)

The whole day again, I felt oppressive inside, a feeling that has not subsided even after outbursts of tears over the past few days. Oppressive and also having stomach cramps again, a sign that I am feeling very agitated and stressed... Being at the office and having to hide how I am feeling, having to put on a smile and pretend all is well is sickening, is exhausting...

After half an hour or so on the phone, my ex said he was falling asleep and wanted to go sleep. He needed to get up early in the morning, but I felt unease hanging up the phone. How selfish I was wanting to hear his voice on the phone just that little bit longer so that I can  feel lonely that little bit less? What a mess I have become to be trembling on the phone and biting my nails till they are bleeding...

Who am I to take his time? He is doing me a favour, out of good will and concern for my wellbeing in calling me, so how could I hog his time and say crazy, incomprehensible things that will sure cause him worry and probably sleeplessness?

He tried to get me to see the lighter side of things. Today in the mail I got the result of an exam I took back in January  (looking back, I went through similar pangs of anxiety, self-doubt and emotional outbursts...). I passed. I read the letter, and then put it away. My ex told me to smile, to be proud of myself and to congratulate myself that through all adversity, I still passed.

But I felt empty. What did that exam mean? What does anything mean anything anymore?
An exam won't change the world... a pass will not change my world or how I feel inside.
How I feel so empty, lonely, so very lacking in love and warmth inside...

Should I have told him? Told someone who was my everything, told someone who broke my heart and shattered my dreams how lonely I am? Should I have told him that what I most long for these days is to be loved and to love? Perhaps it is completely unfair, completely selfish of me to tell him my innermost emotions.Why him of all people? So he could understand? So I can get to feel some semblance of the care and love he gave me so long ago to make myself feel a little better? I must remind myself again and again to hold back, to resist falling back into his care again, however well intentioned he is... Because I am vulnerable, I cannot stand to be hurt and disappointed again. I have a tendency to trust too easily and to make-believe that someone cares and loves me in the same way that I do him.

But it is painful and so very difficult maintaining all these walls, especially before someone with whom you could let it all down and reveal yourself completely, emotionally and physically completely.

And perhaps this is why, after several weeks of pretending of make-believing that I am getting better, when things take a turn for the worse, I am breaking down so easily... I am longing for company and love again like never before... I am clinging onto whatever semblance of care and compassion I used to know, despite the fact that circumstances have dramatically changed and that someone has already moved on and let me go...

I am still stuck in the past, dreaming and clinging onto the dream I dreamed, clinging onto the comfort  and warmth I opened myself to relish in and enjoy, when so much has happened... when pain and death and the trauma of loss and turbulence of bereavement is spinning me around and around and making me lose control of it all...

Breakdown

I don't know what triggered it. I got home, my sweet little cat followed me around so lovingly, I melted touching her soft fur and looking into her soft innocent eyes...

I picked up two letters. Investments I've made recently with money from my parents. I walked around my house, looked at the unwashed dishes, heard the silence, sat down on the floor. The cat came to sit with me. She rolled on her back and made this cute innocent pose... I cried.

I felt like crying almost the whole day. Something was unleashed in me, and I could not control my tears. I cried and cried. Images came back to haunt me... Images of mum at the hospital, images conjured by this meditation music I played in the hope of sitting down to collect my mind. The same music I played every single night during those final few months when mum had much trouble sleeping.

I have not think about those days, did not conjure those images for a long, long time. Somehow they all came back to me... My mind jumped to the future, to one and a half month from now, to my upcoming trip to Taiwan. I cried even more. The loneliness... The pain, the longing...

I tried to collect my mind. But I could not. All I could feel was sadness, pain, and a sense of abandonment... Who could know how I am feeling?

My ex called almost at the same time I sat on the floor and began sobbing. I did not answer. I did not want to bother him anymore than is necessary. I don't want to , don't need to, fall into that cycle of relying on him and being led to believe that there is something special there. When someone is down, when someone is vulnerable, you tend to see more than what there is, you turn to rely on support and place false hopes on the one who can provide you with comfort and with support. I fell pray to that, I cannot allow myself to fall to that again...

As I sat and cried I saw mum's face, saw her sweet and soft face. The cat eyed me and became so quiet, as if she could see how I am hurting, as if she felt it necessary to stay quiet to match the sad and down mood I am in.

I tried to stop crying, I needed to be strong. Who would like or even want to be with someone who is weak and so fragile?
But in all honesty, I do need someone by my side right now, I do pray and hope someone could hold me and calm me down... I saw faces of my friends, friends I have become so distant from, friends who nowadays find it so awkward to talk to me or approach me because they don't know or don't want to know what it feels like to see death, to talk about or deal with death and loss...

I'm sorry, mum, dad... Sorry I'm breaking down again... I must be stronger, must find my own strength within...

In Vancouver

It crossed my mind yesterday evening as I was riding the skytrain to my relative's place how many times I've been to Vancouver. Firs trip was early 2009, and since then at least twice a year, often to transit. This must be almost the tenth trip to the area...

I arrived at my relative's place, had dinner and spent time with my cousins, just chatting and catching up. They're younger by a decade or so, so what we could talk about is limited. I'm like the older brother they look up to, turn to for advice. And one of my cousins recalled a trip I took him on back in 2009 with fondness. How he enjoyed the entire experience, the foods we ate, the stay at the hostel, the long long walk on the beach.

I looked at the pictures I happened to have on my laptop. How beautiful that trip was, how "innocent" and fresh-minded I was back then. Don't we always have that tendency to feel like life was easier "back then when...."?

"But I remember you were troubled then..." My cousin reminded me. What about? Mum's health perhaps. Feeling lost and confused perhaps, close to a year after arriving in Canada. He thanked me for visiting him so often over the past four years, for helping him establish himself in this foreign land when his parents were not around.

It is hard seeing my cousins and being in their family home. Though welcoming, and though they're family, I feel like I'm out of place and intruding. This is a feeling that will come back to haunt me for a while, I know... Family is so important to me. And I have lost the core of the family I know, I know. And I need to learn to live with that.

I met up with a good friend for brunch. Last time we met, we had a nice long bike ride together. There was a bit of affection sitting on a beach for hours, but I pulled away because my ex gave me signals that he wanted to be with me, and reassured me he was taking steps to make it happen.

How foolish I was, now looking back. How fooled I was, being so blindingly faithful and trusting of my ex and his promises, and yet letting opportunities pass me by. Why do I let this happen to me, why do I continue to let someone in my life who many people have told me is driven by only self interests and will do anything and say anything to make you believe he's genuine and sincere?

It hit me when recently a mutual friend mentioned to me perhaps my ex is still hanging around and trying to keep me close because he feels so guilty to just leave me as I was losing my mum. All the while, he's out there enjoying his relationship, trying to placate me and keep me on the side as the best friend and confidante, but not realising how much damage he is doing and how his indecisiveness and false promises are undermining my trust and our friendship.

As we chatted over brunch, my friend here in vancouver revealed since we last met he found someone with whom he could really relate to. He told me how they met, how they could be doing the simplest things and yet still feel so special and such affection. I tried to keep a straight face, tried to look happy for him (I am, genuinely I am...) . But again it's hard to be faced with the fact that all around me people seem to have found someone they can be intimate with, someone they can confide and be true with. It's depressing that its soon valentines day, and again I am single. How ridiculous and foolish I was to even buy my ex a heart-shaped box of chocolates back December, so blind and crazy to believe in the fantasy that he loves me still and is working on being with me.

I walked around a mall, and suddenly felt so empty again. The holidays are never easy for me, and is even harder this year with mum's absence and loss of the one true friend (my ex) I (thought) i) have ever had. Maybe I should be grateful for all the things I have in life, for all the little things I take for granted.

But for once, for once I want to be reminded what it's like to love someone, what it's like to receive love and affection. For once, now more than ever before, I wish to close my eyes while lying in someone's arms and imagine that I am safe and secure.

For once, more than ever before, how I wish I could wake up and see a smile, feel the warmth of another body next to mine.

Sudden tears

280113.1925

The moon is out, almost perfectly round. Yellow, small, hanging high surrounded by all that darkness.

Flying on the way home, suddenly feeling this déjà vu and emptiness deep down inside. Flying... Flying home. Why does the mind connect two completely unrelated moments in life and join them web sadness and that sadness one feels on the verge of crying?

I turned on the seat back tv. It was supposed to be a comedy I watched, but the topic was about loss. A man who lost his wife months ago and still unable and unwilling to fully deal with it all. None of his friends can understand him. They say things like hang on there, it'll be alright, but who is the one who has to deal with the sadness at night? Who is the one who must sleep in an empty bed at night? Who must feel the pain of loss and pain of longing?

Heading home. Just completed an exam, but I feel so empty, feel so meaningless inside. I miss the ones I have lost... I miss them so deeply... I so wish I could have someone to talk to and connect with... I wish I do not have to feel like I'm about to burst out crying every few moments.

The plane rolled. Snow, more snow falling so softly, so gently, so romantically. I could no longer control it. It's like in that movie. Out of nowhere, the tears...

"Please stow your emotions. We are about to land..."

Why am I suddenly crying...? Just crying for no reason in public, on board a plane about to land in the falling snow...

Call to the bar

250113.1123

The hall began to fill with family and friends of hundred or so lawyers-to-be. The atmosphere was joyous, and I sat next to a friend and my ex's parents, who had ventured all the way from Europe, braving the bitter cold, to be present at their son's call to the bar ceremony.

I searched the mezzanine below us for my ex, and found him. I smiled when I saw the back of his head, even though he did not see me. Smiled at the thought he finally made it, pulled through all those late nights of studying and long hard days at work as a law student... And all those around him, everyone shares a similar story, shares the ambition of one day being able to officially call themselves "solicitor" or "barrister". Getting up at 430 in the morning, having slept only four hours or so max, was worth this moment. Bringing a smile and making little surprises is what I seem to do well, and I managed to pull another off.

The ceremony slept began as the organ played a moving classical piece. My friend's mum teared. She said she felt very emotional, especially as it was the anniversary of her own mother's passing. I wanted to do something, perhaps put my hand on her shoulder, but felt perhaps it was a bit too much. But having recently lost someone dear, I felt I should have said or done more to show that "you're not alone". All I could offer her was my smile of sympathy, and I hope she saw in my eyes what I wanted say.

One by one, names were called out and one by one all went on stage. People from all backgrounds, of all ages. Most inspiring was a guy in a wheelchair, who from a distance looked like he had some kind of motorneurone disorder. Yet he did it, he studied hard, he went through ten grueling months of articling, and he deserved so much to go on that stage and claim his certificates. He deserved so much the loud and long rounds of applause from across the hall. If he could do it, why can't I? Why can't I...?

I sat there and watched and waited for my friend to go on stage. I clapped louder an more vehemently than before, smile and hoped he would look our way, look to see how we all came and how we are so proud of him. Later I hugged him and congratulated him several times, reminded him of how fortunate he is to be surrounded by loved ones.

Without wanting to steal the show, as I sat there, I felt the reasons why it was difficult for me, and why it took courage to attend this ceremony, even though I wanted so much to bring a smile to my friend's face and make it a memorable event.

It's the familiarity of it all. Last time I sat in such an auditorium and on such an occasion was my own graduation, only eight months or so ago. And how heavy my heart was, how terribly, terribly sad my face and composure looked on pictures I never shared with any one. And today, here I was, sitting there, though for someone else, yet trying hard to suppress the tears, trying hard not to think of that day (if it ever comes, when I complete my bar...) when I am sitting there in the crowd waiting to be called to the bar. Where would mum and dad be? Who would come attend and cheer me on? Who would come hug me, kiss me, bring me flowers and remind me of what I have just accomplished and what a feat it has all been? Oh, how my ached even though a part of me tried to be strong and tried hard to maintain a smile for others to see.

I may have been dressed elegantly, I may have looked confident and smiley, but deep down inside I cracking up.

Bursting with tears

140113.2034


One moment you're fine, and the next just bursting out in tears... I am reminded of that movie I watched a few months back, where out of nowhere the daughter in the movie suddenly breaks down and cries over the loss of her remaining parent... Who would have known, I am at that stage now.

Second time today, just sitting and crying. Unable to control the tears, unable to still the pain. Where does it all come from? Where am I going with all this...? I can't keep on breaking down and crying alone at night. I can't...

It began as soon as I was searching through my emails for some information. I came across an email mum sent me, back in September 2008. I just moved to Canada, she was planning to visit me. Her email detailed her itinerary, flying in from Boston Logan to Pierre Trudeau Airport. The plan was to visit me, and then we would fly together to Europe. She ended her email with:

 "I'm going to the community college now for lessons. If there is anything, contact me. Good luck with everything, hope all goes well... Mama 0909"

9 September  2008.   I just began my life here, just had a week or so of school, just found and moved into an apartment, my very first apartment on my own. I moved here not knowing what to expect, and feeling somewhat excited about the unknowns to come, but also reeling from the (then) recent loss of my dad. I was lost, confused, lonely, and longing for someone by my side. Funny, four years on, and the same feelings of loss, longing and loneliness have not much changed. Perhaps they have only intensified now that my mother has also gone.

But four years on, I will no longer get an email or touching message from mum  again. 

Wandering thoughts

This was supposed to be a trip to remember my mother, and in some ways my father... to remember the way they were, how kind and compassionate they were, how they gave me so much and asked for so little in return... It was supposed to a trip and time alone to figure out how to go on now that they are gone, and now that I am all alone. (Yes, I have a brother... But I get so little from him, and will only hear from him if I call... And my messages, telling him what I'm doing and how I'm feeling are almost always answered with: "Ok".)

I've thought of mum, and on occasion of dad too... I've been carrying with me two pictures of them, taking them from site to site, and finally parted with them at the Bodhi tree in Bodh Gaya where the Buddha became enlightened... In my little shoulder bag, I have a picture of mum, taken on brother's engagement day, and every time I come across a sacred site, I would take that picture out and sit it on the beautiful white teddy bear mum bought me last year. She said to me then: "This bear will be with you when I'm no longer around..." And that's true... The bear is a reminder of her, and I often fall sleep hugging it, sometimes with tears in my eyes...

This trip is supposed to be about remembering my parents, and finding myself... Yet, I find myself thinking of my ex... thinking of what we had, what could have been, and what broken relationship we seem to have now within such a short period of time... Is it really just me, as he seems to have suggested so many times over the past few months? Have I really changed so much that I'm so unbearable and unlovable? How can I not change having lost my mother and remaining parent? Have I really become such a terrible person after emerging from perhaps the greatest trauma of my life to date, so terrible that I get the impression from him that i only bring him grief and misery?

This time, this trip, alone is partly to get away, and to give my ex some distance from me, because increasingly I feel he's so tired of me. Yet At times, even while visiting so of the sacred sites, I find my mind remembering the wonderful moments, precious little intimate moments we once shared, and also remembering some of the mean and hurtful words that were exchanged. i find myself thinking about how he's doing, what he's doing. And I wonder, does he even think of me at all?

I do think of him fondly, miss him, sometimes even imagining how it would if he were here with me. I've written so many emails and notes over the last month or so telling him how I feel about us, our impasse, I made little surprise gifts and appearances for his birthday, and there's been very little reaction.

Is he doing this to spite me, to get his own back because I was gone and ignored his messages and calls for much of the start of of this year? I find myself, despite being in such peaceful surroundings, thinking and wondering: what is wrong with me...? Perhaps he's feeling free and uninhibited to do whatever, be with whomever while I'm not around, and yet I think of him so much, and carry with me his beloved teddy bear everywhere I go... Why am I using so much energy on my ex, when it is my parents I should be thinking of and remembering on this special journey?

here and there I am reminded of Buddha's words:

"They do not brood over the past,
They do not hanker after the future,
They live upon whatever they receive
Therefore they are radiant.”

What am I doing, but brooding over the past and longing for a distant, dream-like future? Why am I thinking about someone who is so far away, and who seems to grow more and more distant from me?

At this moment, I feel deeply the pain of loss and loneliness, especially when my body feels so wretched from illness and the nauseating effects of malaria pills I have to take for at least two weeks...

Dreams: seeing mum again

Woke up several times during the early hours of the morning. A new bed, my friend's bed, for he had offered it to me and taken the couch.

But I saw mum appear before me, the first time in weeks now. Just as I thought the pain and sadness had subsided, just as I thought I was over things and could carefully laugh and drink and have fun, they returned like a surge of the sea in the midst of a violent storm...

Sudden tears

Just had a nice evening with friends, and wanted to head home early. It's nice to go out and meet up with people, to chat about nonsense and to drink and forget. But really, how much can you forget...?

Sitting in the metro, and browsing though pictures. Happy pictures and memories of times with the ex... Then suddenly a picture of mum, so skinny, deep eye sockets, forlorn and ill-looking, nearing death... She looked straight at the camera (an image I captured on Skype...), straight at me. This was taken at the end of May, when I came back here for a month. I missed her dearly then, worried about her day and night.

She stared the camera, deep into my soul. I remember she kept telling me to stay on till my graduation, to stay on and not worry about her. I cried many nights then, hurting because I was not by her side. Seeing that picture again brought tears to my eyes. How she suffered... How much she went through all these years...

And now she's free... No more pain, no more depending on other people when she needs to go to the washroom or get out of bed... No more steady deterioration of the body and decline of the mind... No more inability to let go, no more feelings, no more hurting. Mum is free now...

So by am I crying? Crying because of the image she once was? Crying because she went through so much, when it is all over and done with now? Crying because I had fun tonight and feel somewhat guilty for having a bit of fun and indulging in a few drinks?

Mum is free now.

But I am not...

Tears

Hearing news of mum made me cry again...
It's been almost a week since I last did so.
But I could not help it.

Perhaps mum is peering over my shoulders and crying silently too... Crying, because she's seeing me cry...

 Crying because she's watching me sit here in my empty home on my own with tears rolling down my cheeks and typing frantically like a sad, sad madman... Perhaps she is trying to hand me a tissue, trying to hug me, hold me and rest her head against mine, but she cannot.

I suddenly had the urge tonight to call one of mum's best friend, someone who called her every single day for the last four years. Her husband is a spirit medium, and he said mum visited. She looked distraught and upset. "Was it because she  is thinking of you? Was it because she saw you were crying before? I don't know..."

The image of mum seeing me cry is so painful...
 I promised my mum I would be strong, but I am so weak, so tired, so full of pain and longing....

Please give me the strength to be strong again...
Please lift me up, and let me rise above the sadness and tears...

Calling brother

I had trouble keeping my eyes dry. Brother noticed I shared some inspirational articles on Facebook about griefing and dealing with loss. He asked what was wrong.

I can not really describe it. Just heaviness, just sadness, just longing for love I'm not really getting (or perhaps not getting from the way I want to...). I know it's all a mental state of mind, and that I am the one in control of my emotions and feelings. But still it's hard to move on when I go home and face the house alone. It's hard to keep the thoughts and creeping images at bay...

"Don't think too much. Do things to distract yourself..." Brother advised me. It was brief how he consoled me. He admitted to me he still feels loss and longing too.

Then he quickly moved onto his family, and for a good ten minutes told me about his plans to buy a bigger house in the future. He's been looking already. Six bedrooms, a large garden and close to my nephew's future school.

There is the difference perhaps. He goes home and has a wife and kid to return to (not to mention the cat...) At a moment as this, perhaps human intimacy and physical contact is what one needs most of all. I need it to affirm that I am not dead, that I still am alive and capable of giving warmth and affection. I need human contact and intimacy to feel safe and temporarily fulfill a deep void inside. This is something perhaps friends cannot understand. The longing for intimacy and love, for a meaningful and lasting relationship is stronger than ever before. This is not to say that I do not appreciate the encouragements and advice of friends who do care, but really having a closeness with one person in particular, with someone I do not feel conflicted in talking to, with someone who will make me feel like I really matter and not just a "case" to deal with, is so important.

Brother told me again to try not think too much, to focus attention and energies else where. I try. I will try harder. I smiled at him, glad to see he's doing alright. Glad to hear that my nephew has grown much bigger and taller, and that he got a new toy-- a multistory carpark. I smiled at seeing my old cat run across the living room where I spent many nights on my own, sometimes even sleeping on the floor because I just felt like it... I was sixteen, seventeen then. I am tenets eight now.

I will be strong and stronger one day. One day I will heal, and i will be beautiful. Beautiful again.

Sunset

Autumn nightfall, crickets chirping quietly, the sun setting.
It's so peacefully, so still, so beautiful... For a moment I could almost forget the sadness and pain lingering inside. For a moment, I was free from tears and memories of mum and our ordeals at the hospital.

After a long weekend being surrounded by friends, being around my ex, I am afraid of going home...

I am afraid of the silence, and my own thoughts when I am still. I am afraid of crying...

100 days

07092012.2303

For two weeks, I've felt the approach of this day. Perhaps I put too much thought into it, perhaps, like with many things in life I put too much meaning into "just another day". Brother seemed to have completely forgotten about the day. But it was the hundredth day after mum passed away , and the sadness and sense of longing and pain intensified.

I spent an hour or so last night at the river side, at a place where mum and I sat a while and admired the breath and beautiful of this land. I lay down to watch the clouds, and listened to songs. Inadvertently, tears began to shed, trickling down my cheeks as I sobbed quietly. The waves and music drowned out my crying.

This is a sadness that nobody, nobody can really understand. It is so personal, so raw because I was there, and it was traumatic. The nights and days, the almost endless fighting and struggle, and dying and eventually death... It saps a lot of energy from you, and leaves you so drained. Empty and drained...

100 days already since mum passed. Where is she now? Is she hurting seeing me cry so often and so much? Is she hurting because friends seem so hard to reach, and who I thought was true lasting, friendship seems so impatient and tired of my tears and me recounting my sorrows?

I laid out a full table of dishes for her... Vegetables, fruits, berries, drinks and even a bottle of Evian (my friend bought) to commemorate where we once were together. I cried when I asked her of she had finished. Of course it did not work...  It was fine cooking and preparing, but when it came to making the offering, I could not stop crying... Again, these are moments I realise that things take time, and that there is a shallow wound deep down.
Then I thought of calling my brother and his family. And in the presence of my little nephew, I threw the coins. And voila, it worked, and she had finished...

Mum is around me, mum is with me... And how it must pain her to see me cry so much, and to cry over such a trivial thing as relationship and feeling misunderstood...

Mum, I will be strong. I must be strong, because in this world, only I can make myself happy...

Flowers

I picked white lilies, white roses, pink lilies and some pink carnations. They made beautiful bouquet.

Mum would have liked the flowers, some are her favourite. I imagine she would give me a scolding if I gave her the bouquet, but I also know she would probably be touched and smiling inside.

"Beautiful flowers... Who are they for?" The nice florist asked as she carefully arranged them.

"for my mum..." I said, though with some hesitation at first, for I felt I was lying even though the truth is they really are for mum.

"She's a lucky mother. And you're a good son..."

I smiled, and said nothing. Was I, was I really?

The flowers are more than the scenery and beauty they bring into the room, they are more than just a symbol of remembrance as I commemorate one hundred days since mum's passing tomorrow. The flowers are from me to her, to tell her how I miss her, and how even she is no longer around, she is still my mother...

Absence

What overcame me? Why am I suddenly crying again? Such sadness again, triggered perhaps by unpacking a bag containing clothes and items I took back from home almost a month ago. Yes, been almost a month and the bag was just there on the floor, untouched. It was as if I was/am afraid to touch it, afraid of what emotions and memories (and tears...) may be drawn from opening it all...

I unpacked the bag. In it was mum's blanket, the one she used till the very last moment... In it was a cat cushion I bought her, which I gave her to use to keep the sores away... She also used it till the very end....

Four years ago, I took the blanket dad used to the very end. Now, I have that of mum. Four years later, dad's blanket is just a blanket I use often, one that is stained on one side with his blood, one that smells more of me than anything else... But the blanket will always be one that is special in my heart, that is so soft and gentle to the touch...

Tonight I also tidied my drawers and sorted through my old clothing. Seeing clothes mum bought me, or clothes I bought with mum was hard. Seeing clothes dad once wore, and which I took with me after he left, hurt more than I imagined. And perhaps with the fresh wound, I found myself wave in and weak again...

I picked up the phone and called the monk in Taiwan. It was the first time I called "home" since I left. I almost cried hearing the voices of home (there were other people at the monastery, all of whom I know...)

"I've been so sad and down..." I said. That is the only way I am and have been able to describe it. Sad. Down. Empty. Hurt. Distracted and confused.

The monk told me to watch those feelings, and reminded again that they will go. All the feelings will come and go. That much is certain. He told me to think of it this way: before I was in Canada and away from mum. Now it's more or less the same. She's away now, and you can think of her still, just not reach her. "Think of her when you want, and she's out there somewhere..."

I struggled hard to contain my years. Struggled so hard not to cry. And often the more you try to do that, the more you end up crying after you let go.

I hung up the phone, and steaks of tears flowed down. I could not help from crying. I still cannot help myself from crying...

The longing, the pain, the emptiness is so immense. So very immense...

Surreal

Am I alive?
What am I doing here?
Lying here, dreaming, drifting away... Am I really living?

So much has happened, but now it's all quiet, all quiet. And who do I have left in life? Who cares, who is there to hold me when I am weak, comfort me when I am sad?

The teddy bear mum once gave me is right next to me... She told me when she gave me the bear: he will keep up company when I am gone.

Now she is gone. Really gone...

And I cannot keep from crying.
I cannot keep the sadness and pain at bay...

Sudden sadness

My colleague mentioned he felt his back aching, and also that he had a sharp pain in his liver.

I heard the word liver. Liver. Liver...
My mind dashed back to the hospital, to the room where mum lay for weeks and weeks. My mind began to conjure images of mum's yellow skin, yellow face, yellow from jaundice. I saw bile juices, I saw tubes, I saw my languishing in pain. I saw the past, the horrible past. I know the past is gone, and I am in the beautiful present, I know. But the past was so traumatic, so painful, so difficult to forget...

I miss mum... I miss her terribly. Terribly...
Sitting here in my office, and I am crying...

A small boy, crying and nobody can see my tears. Nobody can understand or really share my pain...

Something inside so strong

I feel it especially at night when I am alone, when the lust and sexual desires and energies have been released... The emptiness, the terrible terrible emptiness and pain of feelings that is cutting my heart and tearing apart my mind.

The pain and emptiness is especially strong at night when I am alone. I feel so alone, like I am unable to turn to anyone. Nobody can be trusted with my feelings, nobody can be burdened with my dark brooding thoughts...

I just wish I had someone to talk to, someone to lie next to and to hold me and reassure me. I just wish I had a lover who cares for me, who can soothe my pain and wipe away my tears and remind me again and again when the emptiness threatens to return: there is something inside so strong...

So strong, if only I can feel it.

Put down

I've been wanting to go to the shelter for cats with my flatmate, and today I finally had my chance.

There were so many cats, all so beautiful, elegant and innocent looking. My heart melted and went out to them, and I found myself asking why or how people can leave these beautiful creatures just wandering around the streets.

There was one particular cat, a grey one with a signature tuft of white on her (I checked, it's her...) chest. She was particularly friendly and affectionate.

Later at night I told my friend about her and showed him a picture of her, ad he too fell in love with her. He suggested we adopt her, and talked incidentally about cats getting old and the hard choice we may have to face to put a beloved pet who has been in our lives for so long down when it's ill or too old and suffering...

My heart wrenched when I heard those words. My erratic brain made the connection between a pet being put down and a human being being "put down" at that end stage of life. You don't want to prolong the suffering, you don't want the person to suffer unnecessary pain, and in a way you yourself don't want to have unnecessary pain. He described how it's difficult to see a loved one writhing and suffering pain...

I saw mum lie there in the hospital bed, writhing and struggling and fighting for breath... Oh, god, the tears threatened to erupt again... Mum, how you suffered so and I was unable to help.

And the question came back to haunt me, and made the smile I had earlier quickly vanish. Did I "put my mum down"? Did I kill her by pushing her to enter hospice all that time...? Did I kill her?

Did I kill mum...? Did I by increasing the dosage of her morphine, knowing fully well it might hasten her death...? Was it out of compassion and love and concern of her wellbeing and quality of life, or was it selfish and just not wanting me to suffer any more seeing her suffer and in pain...?

Mum, please you forgive me if I put you down before you were ready...
I held your hand and leaned on you, and I imagined it was what you wanted...

But did I put you down?

Perhaps for as long as I live there will be this guilty conscience I will have to live with...