Relational

The self is relational. Who you are or who you perceive yourself to be is in relation to others... Friend, partner, loved one, family... How you interact with them is who you are at that moment.

Why do you speak so softly to some but so angrily with another? Anger and softness it's all within you. What have thee person done or not done to deserve anger or rage? And "done is done", is it not, is it not in the past? So why not be kind to yourself and to the person around you and be kind to all, regardless of what happened before?

The meditation teacher spoke of his battle against leukemia, how the doctor told him he had ten days to leave. Imagine the fear, the desperation and anxiety... Imagine family and friends coming to see you one by one and having to bid farewell to them... And most difficult of all, having to tell his eleven year old that despite the dying body, a father's love for the boy will not die. Ever. That is the stuff of life. That is real struggle with loss and coping with fear and anxiety...

When you hear and look at the lives and struggles of others, do you not feel more fortunate? Do you not feel like you cry about nothing and allow yourself to wallow too deeply in remorse and a world of pain and suffering of your own creation?

Not to trivialise at all my own hurt, my own pain and suffering now, which somehow has unleashed the locked away demons of the past/my childhood. Funny how hurt and pain can reach so deep and so pervasively inside of you that everything comes out... They have thrown me into the throes of doubt, self-criticism, anxiety, depression and negativity. They have undermined and overshadowed all the goodness I have within me, all the kindness I have shown to others, and left me feeling useless and worthless.
It is an ugly mindset I must free myself...

For how else will I feel loved? How else will another love me? How else will I love again...?

Night in

My colleagues came to cheer me up on this Saturday night... I'm very grateful, for I have been feeling so lonely and fragile being alone at home. They came, had dinner with me, and we played a game and watched a movie. By the time the night ended, it was already past one in the morning.

I was sad to see them go, even going as far as asking them to stay over. There are two spare beds they could easily sleep in. When did I become so clingy? Or am I just afraid to be alone, afraid that I will break down and cry and cry again?

It felt wonderful to be surrounded by people and to be playing board games. It's been such a long time. And perhaps a reason why it felt good was because these colleagues do not know my ex (at least not that well), so there's none of that awkwardness or feelings that there are things unsaid. Honestly, I just feel like I cannot talk to anyone nowadays, and not least talk about my deepest feelings because (paranoid or otherwise...) I feel word could easily get around. It's a sad state of affairs when you have to be ever so watchful of what you say to your friends. Makes you wonder why they are friends in the first place when anything and everything you say can become the source of idle gossip and entertainment.


 I helped to clear the snow away from the car, and stood there on the street to watch them drive off. "Thank you so much for coming..." I said. I really was grateful, so glad that they came and spent the night with me. I needed it, I long for it. It makes me happy to bring some kind of joy and warmth into the lives of others. It touches me to hear that my little home (and cat...) gives them a feeling of warmth and belonging.

I told them that to be honest, the two bedroom flat feels a bit empty and big for just one person. Why did I get this place three years ago? I imagined mum would retire and maybe come live here a few months per year... I guess I imagined also of living with someone dear, and establishing a realm home together, because god knows I need that and long for that. Well, also partly because I wanted to give my cat more space to run in and big windows she can look out of...

Well, now it's just me now, in this apartment with all these personal belongings and household goods. It's very homely, very comfortable, and perhaps I do not appreciate it as much as I should. But is not warmth and homeliness better when shared?

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...

Laughter

In laughter, you forget... In those moments when you laugh and let the comicality of life (and perhaps a few crude jokes), you let go and allow your mind to be seized by joy, fulfillment and that warm fuzzy feeling you hope will never end.

But it will end, and it does end. Life is not all joy and laughter, and who believes that joy and laughter will last is fooling himself.

And by the same token, life is not all tears or sadness, not all mourning and pain, and who lives that life is depriving himself of the beauties and miracles of this world and all it has to offer.

In those moments when you laugh and smile, you will forget, you will let go. And you will, as I did tonight, learn and realise, bit by bit life gets better as life moves on...

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.

Reaffirmation

Nobody can let your feel worthless except for yourself.
 Nobody can know the true extent of your thoughts and feelings, except for yourself.
 If you are misunderstood, smile and walk away.
If you are criticised, smile and let the words wash over you like rain.
 If you are praised, smile and thank the person for the compliment.

Surround myself with people who can help you, who can make you feel stronger, who can see through the pain and know that with time and patience, I will grow out of withdrawing and grow into the strong person I have been.

Surround myself with people who care and love you, and who will not easily put you down.
Now, more than ever before, I need love. Love, love, love...

And now more than at anytime in my life, I need to be strong, be brave and tell myself again and again, I will be ok.
Now, more than at anytime, I need to prove to my loved ones that I can make it on my own, and that I can get up and stand up strong and tall.

Now, more than at anytime, I need to remind myself of the beauty and goodness inside, I need to forgive myself and not be so harsh to myself. I need to love myself, to care for myself. I need to look at myself and be able to smile, smile, smile again.

Reflections

Have I really become a selfish, self absorbed person as my friend accuses me of being?

Have I really let myself be so absorbed by the trauma of the past few months and death of my mum that I care so little about the wellbeing and feelings of others?

It hurts me to be told I've changed and become selfish and seemingly insensitive to the feelings of people around me. It hurts also when people who are your friends start talking amongst themselves about how different I am now compared to before. Are friends not supposed to support up, comport you, give you the space and time to mourn and grief instead of talk behind your back and expect you to quickly move forward? How it hurts that I was told by someone I should go see a professional instead of turning to people around me... I thought or perhaps idealised friends as people you could turn to in the greatest time of need.

I need to reflect on how I seem to have changed over the past few months, need to think about how I (according to at least one person...) can become selfish and self-absorbed and not even see it. Is the person correct in his harsh words and judgments or am I simply so oblivious to oblivious to my own failings and continually fool myself (and others...) into believing I'm an "angel" who could do littleness wrong...?

I closed my eyes and swallowed the misunderstandings and accusations of flaws in my character. How it hurts to be told I seem to have become such a difficult person to be around. How it hurts that at a time I most need and want to reach out for human contact and support, a friend reproaches me and makes me feel like I'm a terrible person with so many flaws and failings.
It hurts especially because after mum passed away, I promised myself, promised my mum, I'd live the life of a virtuous person, I'd continue being the kindness and generosity that my mum (and to an extent dad...) espoused and was.

Wall climbing

The pain in my muscles was excruciating. I felt like giving up, felt like letting go and just letting myself fall with gravity. It would have been an easy way out, just giving up and admit to myself I can't do it.

The pain made me break out in sweat all over. I felt like my arms were going to break, and that the fingers were going to snap. Altitude and gravity makes you feel so small an weak. One slip, and if I weren't safely secured to a rope which my friend held onto tightly,
I could have plummeted to my... downfall.

"I can't do it... I just can't do it..." I heard the weak self nag and echo in my head.

But I saw images of what happened at the hospital. I saw my sick mother lying there... I saw me crying because I was weak and afraid. "I can do it! I CAN do it!!"

And it was as If I found renewed strength from nowhere, as if the tiredness and soreness of my limbs and the scrapes and cuts of my skin and (slight) bleeding meant very little.

Before my eyes were images of moments with mum at the hospital. Those were truly testing times... Those were truly difficult times that were painful, truly painful (though not to forget, beautiful memories resulted from those times as well...)

I pulled myself up, reached further and hung on tighter despite the aches in my fingers and joints. I pushed myself to the limit, the way I was often pushed to the limit mentally over the past few years. And I made it to the top.

I screamed and cried out of excitement and a sense of achievement. I felt good to be alive, to be panting, sweating, aching. I felt alive!

And isn't it always like this? At the end of a long, tiring journey that is testing and trying, isn't it beautiful to let go and look back at where you came from and what difficulties you have overcome?

Inner Silence

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Often people have no idea, really no idea what it feels like to lose someone. Not just anyone, but a parent, a loved one you have taken care of for so long.

No idea. And they expect you to function like a 'normal' person, to keep a straight face, to smile and to cover your pain. 

It just makes me wish I could turn away and turn toward the inner silence in the depth of my mind where I can really mourn and really cry and not feel afraid.

Three more nights

28082012.0122

Lying down to sleep, the first of three last nights here in mum's home. It's quiet outside, but a few hundred kilometers to the south, Tembin http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Typhoon_Tembin_(2012)
Is unleashing chaos and destruction for the second time as it returns to pummel the island hard. I am hugging a large teddy, one my Ex gave me some time ago. The teddy has been with mum for over two years, and accompanied her all the way till the end of her life. Soon, the soft and lovable bear in my embrace, who kept me company and kept the loneliness at bay for so many nights and comforted me to sleep, will make his way out of my life again, and accompany my nephew back to Europe.

It is unusually quiet, and my mind is a haze. A haze. Another crippling spell of fatigue has overcome me, and I feel such heavy dizziness and a strange mixture of emotions I cannot express, I cannot capture...

Can hurt be so painful that you become numb? Can pain be so powerful that you do not feel anything at all? I am out of words, am too tired and too exhausted to properly reflect on all that has happened here over the past few weeks, let alone to write something worth of being written and read or remotely touching to mark the end of a long, long stay...

I will fall asleep, wake up, and a new day will have already begun. Far too quickly, far too quickly.

Loss and gain

I lost a part, a dear part of me and of my life. And what do I gain in return? No more watching a loved one suffer unnecessarily. No more sadness, depression, ups and downs of emotional that used to fluctuate with mum's health condition. No more hospital visits and waiting for appointments.

I lost my dear mother. But I gained the freedom of my own life back.

And that is so frightening and daunting.

Crash

Almost forty eight hours without proper and long sleep. Another exhausting day taking care of mum's funeral arrangements after her passing. So many traditions to abide by, so Manu customs to adhere to. Even now we cannot say for certain when the cremation will be and when mum will be interred at her final resting place (they are two separate events...). It all depends on what is a "good" day for mum to be cremated and interred, and what is "good" depends on mum's zodiac sign, day and time of passing, and the alignment of the heavens. It is a lot to consider, a lot to be aware of, a lot of taboos to avoid. As if losing a loved one is not already burdensome enough.

Have been too tired to feel sad or really mourn. Though, today while sitting in the car heading to the funeral home with my brother, it moved me so close to tears to see him suddenly just shed tears. He said he was missing mum, and it feels like she's just gone to sleep and will wake up soon. He said it's so strange how these past three months he was constantly by her side, and how this three weeks or so he would visit her daily at the hospital. Now it's all over... Now she's no longer at the hospital or in her bedroom. It is as if we half expect her to be lying there resting, as she did for much of the past two months in bed...

"Looking out the car widow," brother said, his cheeks had the markings of two wet streaks, "Taipei feels so empty. There is nothing here for us anymore..." It was only when he said it out that I realised the same. This is my birth-town and was my childhood hometown. It was a place I would return to every single year almost because my parents were here. Now both dad and mum have moved on, so what is left here? An empty home full of things and belongings of two people who have already gone, an empty home full of memories of what once was but is no more. What else is there here for me, for us?

Brother asked me whether I'm sad and why don't look too sad. "I think it's because I know we have done everything we could. Nothing more could have been asked of us. And it all come to a beautiful end..."

Those are true and real reasons, but was I just comforting myself and trying to be unnecessarily brave? Brave for who's sake? My own sake, because I have no shoulder to lean on and no one I can really cry to? Brave so that other people will not hurt if I don't cry?

Mum is back home now. A temporary altar has been erected in her honour in the dining room. There is a giant portrait of mum on the altar, and before the portrait of mum's smiling picture. Mum told me once, a few months ago when I commented how beautiful the picture on her national health insurance card is, that she wants to use that particular picture for her funeral. And I've fulfilled her wish.

Seeing mum smile back at us is not at all scary. In a way comforting to know mum's spirit is back home and with us (at least that is the local belief...). From today till the day of the funeral, we will just do as she used to do before: get up, wash, have breakfast and dinner, and wash again before "bed". We will have to offer her water to wash herself with, offer her favourite foods and drinks and fresh fruits. It is as if she were still with us, and we can bow to her, talk to her as we wish to. Relatives and friends have the opportunity to come to our home and pay respects to her altar by offering incense or white envelops containing money (another tradition).

We'll make the altar beautiful and dignified so that when people come, they can see what a wonderful life mum has had, and that her passing need not be overly sad...

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...

Checking out

I went out to the corridor, and saw a crowd of people gathered around a room toward the end of a corridor. I suspected what was happening. I saw a lady whom I saw earlier during the day weeping and being consoled by a Buddhist nun. All I heard was the lady saying: "He has suffered so much..."

Two men wearing suits walked solemnly down the corridor toward the gathered crowd. They were wheeling a simple bed next to them. Their motion seemed to be in sync, in slow motion and ever so silent.

I came out to the corridor a few moments later. The crowd had left, and they were all gathered by the elevator ready to make the 21 storeys down. I walked quietly to where the crowd gathered. There was but an empty bed, and the room was deserted.

The man had indeed checked out, and the bed was made for the next patient to check in.

Approaching the end

Mum has said sentences to me over the past day or so, since I arrived back, which I pretend not to hear. I do hear them, and I think I know what she would like to say, but I'm just unsure what to respond.

"There isn't much time..." 時間不多了
"I am leaving soon..."

What do I say to that? I tell her not to think too much, not to be afraid. I reassure her by stroking her arm, holding her hand, playing with her face, or by lying at her feet. "I'll be here all the time... We're all here with you. Don't think or worry too much..."

I think this is how you assure someone. I need to ask the counsellors and volunteers who are walking around the hospice ward. But I believe telling the patient who knows her days are numbered that you will be there throughout the whole process helps.

I see mum blink a lot. I see her sort of move her mouth and tongue in a 'chewing' motion. Sometimes I see her face, her thin, bony face, tense up as if she is holding back tears and stopping herself from crying. There are dark shadows around her eyes, and due to the thinness of her face, the eye sockets seem especially prominent.

I smile at mum a lot, and sometimes nothing but smiles are exchanged. I'm not sure what she is thinking, and when I ask her, she casually says "Nothing much..." I know what I am thinking when I look at her...

How beautiful mum is, how lucky I am that she is my mother! Silently I wish her peace, silently I hope and wish and pray that she is not in too much discomfort... Silently, I hope that all this will not take too long, and that she can "go" quietly, gracefully and in the dignified way that, as one friend put it, is deceiving of a "Grande Dame".

1AM

130612.0155

I was dreaming of flying and airports before the dreams were interrupted by a gagging sound. I turned my head, and saw mum vomit into a plastic bag. I remember this... I remember this all too well.

I rushed to her side. The carer already held the bag next to mum's mouth and was stroking mum's thin throat. Mum gagged and gagged. I held onto her had, which was hidden under her blanket. I looked at her with eyes that tried to comfort her, reassure her and remind her that I am by her side. A thought of choking, a gruesome image of mum chocking to death flashed across my mind...

Mum has become so thin. Her neck looks like that of a vulture, and is veiny and her bones are exposed under the thin flesh. I stroked mum's thin arm and held onto her hand. "It's ok... I'm here now. I'm here at your side no matter what..." I silently said.

A few more gagging sounds, and the discomfort mum was in seemed to have subsided. "Why is it like this...?" she asked, sounding puzzled and confused. I stroked her arm. I was reminded of what the doctor said hours earlier when he came in and when I asked him to update me on the latest. "The cancer is progressing. The duodenum and bile duct areas seem to have become blocked. That's why she has trouble eating now, and that's why she's throwing up more and more..."

"Go back to bed..." she said, "Go back to bed..." She looked at me with begging eyes. I know it pains her to vomit, not just because of the discomfort it causes her, but also because she feels "guilty" that it upsets me to see her sick and gag.

I stroked her arm a bit more, and patted her forehead and her hair. Her face has changed since I last saw her. She is thinner, more frail, bonier. I loathe to see her naked body, see how much of her body mass has been eaten away by the cancer to leave behind just bones and skin...

But cancer, you can change the way mum looks, you can rob her dignity and cause her to involuntarily vomit ad gag, you can "punish" her with vomiting and being sick... But I will continue to love her, hold her, stroke her arm and with the softness of my voice reassure her...

At TSA

120612.1436

"Is mum ok?" I asked brother on the phone while I waited for my suitcase to come out. What kind of question was that? What I wanted to know was wether I had time to go home first and put my suitcases down before heading to the hospital. What I meant to ask, but substituted with "Is mum ok?" was: she is still hanging on, right? I'll still get to see her, right?

That's what I meant. Crude, but that's the truth. Brother told me to go home, and warned me traffic might be horrible due to a torrential downpour last night and this morning. Indeed, the sky was so thick with clouds all the way from Japan, and it was only when we were close to the ground that I could see buildings and such. The rain cancelled classes and work.

Strange that on the day I arrive, there would be such a rainfall...
Does it mean anything, if anything?

At TVG

120612.2221

At mum's room, which has a little guest room attached to one side. I'll be sleeping here, most likely everyday till... I'm not sure till when.

I am extremely tired, and struggling am hard to keep my eyes from opening. So far, a lot of smiles and lots of time spent sitting next to mum and holding her hand.

So it feels like I never left and am back to the hospital where I've spent so many weeks with her and sleeping at her side...

Dream

120612.0622

I saw mum. She was lying in the hospital bed. She had such difficulty breathing. She looked at me, her gaze was confused and she seemed lost. I held onto her hand.

"Let's go home, mama... Let's leave the hospital..." I said. I was calm, so surprisingly calm and collected. (would I really be like this when that moment comes...?)

I woke up. It was only six in the morning. It was the third time I woke up in the night, every time due to some dream the details of which I cannot remember. But they all had mum in them. They all took place at the hospital.

Mum is holding on. She wants to see me, she wants me to be there. Perhaps she is holding on long enough for me to arrive., so that I am spared the pain of watching her suffer and watching her deteriorate even further...

I am almost home, mum... Sorry I kept you waiting for so long... I am almost home. Please hang on there...

To TVG

120612.1512

Heading to the hospital. Just dropped off my bags and grabbed a hotdog to fill my stomach. Grabbed a light change of clothes, my graduation cap and degree, and now on the way.

Hospice ward 21, room 21... I am not sure what sight or experience await me as I open that door.

I hope I can keep myself together. For mum, for my family, and for my own sake.