Back home...

It has been a  month, a month since I last saw mum, touched mum, hugged mum. I slowly opened the door to Room 20. Already during the long elevator ride to the twenty-first floor, my heart was pounding, my mind was wondering what I would see, how I would react to what I see. Nothing prepared me for the reality.

Things seemed to just happen, with nothing planned, nothing calculated. I opened the door slowly, and walked in. The first person I saw was the new carer, who sat resting on the sofa. Then I saw mum, who lay  on her bed and had her eyes open. She must have been counting the minutes to my arrival. Brother told me later that she was counting down the days till I arrived. And before I left home, I called to say I'd be there within fifteen minutes. Mum must have been watching the hands of the clock hanging on the wall opposite her bed.

Brother sat next to mum's bed. I approached him and wanted to hug him, but he was sitting down, and it was an awkward position, so instead I patted his back a couple of times instead. "I'm back... It must have been hard on you..."

Mum's eyes opened even wider seeing me. Everything happened so quickly. She lay in bed and barely moved, but she took her arms out from under her blanket. I leaned in close and wanted to hug her, but I was afraid also of crushing her under my weight. I put my arms gently around her, and it was then that I felt just how much she has thinned since I saw her last. I was afraid to hurt her, so I only lightly wrapped my arms around her and leaned  in closer to her cheeks. I pressed my cheeks against hers, and in her ear I whispered: "Mama, I'm back. I'm back. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long..."


We bonded starting with my long trek across half the globe to be back here. Fate was with me. In all my times of flying home, I have never landed at the downtown airport. Partly due to the prohibitive price of connecting in Tokyo to Taipei the same day I arrived (which was yesterday...), I decided to stay overnight and book a more affordable flight the next morning. As I was staying overnight, I decided to fly from Haneda (HND) to Songsan (TSA), which is downtown to downtown, instead of using the international airports which are both some distance away from Tokyo and Taipei. Fate was with me, for the very day I chose to fly into the downtown airport, Taiwan was ravaged by a terrible storm. The international airport I normally fly into (Taoyuan International, TPE) was shut down for several hours. Flights were redirected, baggage handlers could not go out to work because of lightning strikes. Passengers were stranded for several hours, some till midnight until the storm eventually died down. I was at the hospital within an hour of landing...

I carried very little to the hospital, and just had a plastic bag with me, albeit a big bag. I took out of graduation cap and placed it on my head. Mum smiled. She had seen pictures of me on facebook, but this is different. She could see me up close, feel the red and white tassel. She could (and did) personally wish me congratulations. I held her hand, stroked her head and her hair. "Thank you... thank you for everything you did to support me. This is for you, like it says in my thesis..." I hope she still remembers what I wrote on the acknowledgement page of my thesis, because this one is really for her. "The first degree was dedicated to dad. And this one to you," I said, "And if I choose to do a PhD, I wonder who I can dedicate it to. To my cat perhaps?" That made mum smile. When she smiled, she did not look like a patient. When she smiled, she was not afflicted by cancer. When she smiled, I do not notice the thinness of her arms, the dark tone of her skin, or the yellow hue of her eyes from jaundice... When she smiles, she is my beautiful mother as I will always remember her...

The nurses came in, a bunch of them. "You must be the second son!" Brother has been doing some broadcasting and prepared them for my arrival. "Your mum has been anticipating your return!" I was still wearing my graduation cap and leaning close to mum on her  bed. "Why, you two seem very close!" I was a little embarrassed.

That mum looks more ill than before did not escape me. I saw immediately she had trouble breathing, saw that her collar bones have now become clearly visible. I noticed how wrinkled her skin looks, how dry and also bloated her arms and legs were. From occasional grimaces and suppressed moans, I could tell mum was in some degree of discomfort. The details of her condition would be revealed later when I spoke to the doctor. "It's very unlikely she'll live more than three months. Two months, one months maybe. But every patient is different, and we will do what we can to make her comfortable..."

Nothing, not the feel of her bony arms, not what the doctor just told me, not the reality of mum lying in the hospice ward scared me or made me cry. It was not as I expected at all. Strangely, ever since I stepped into the hospice, I could only smile at mum. Smile as I rubbed her arms, smile as I stroked her hair and head, smile as I recounted my month away in Canada. Smile as I reassured her that I would be with her no matter what...





I stayed with mum the entire day and night

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...

Landed at NRT

110612.1545


Just landed at Narita Airport. Much of the flight I spent asleep. I don't know why I was so very tired. I needed the sleep. Sleep to replenish my body's energy levels. Sleep also to keep the sadness and floating feelings at bay.

Looked out the window as we approached. A thought crossed my mind: next time I see this scenery from the air most likely a lot of things will have changed. What would I be feeling? In what mindset would I be in? When would that be?

Closer and closer I am approaching home... Sooner and sooner, I will be at mum's side.

Going to the market

I called mum and she was on her way to the market. For a bit of fresh air, but also to see what there is to buy. The new carer, as kind and patient as she is, does not really know what to buy or cook.

"Can you stand and walk nowadays?" I asked.

"It's hard. I can't stand stably. I have very little strength..."

I can just imagine her so weak and slumped in her wheelchair.

"Don't come back here," she suddenly said, "Stay for a while, there's no place to stay as the house is very crowded." she told me to go back only at the end of the month. "When brother is gone..."
I don't think mum has any idea that brother is staying on till... I don't think she knows how afraid he is to leave mum's side.

"It's such a big burden for him to be here and not working..."

"Don't think too much, mama. Don't think too much. There is no burden."

Recounting the past...

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

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

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

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

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

Difficult. Difficult. It truly was difficult.

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

NRT-YVR

07052012.1840 NRT TIME

Ten minutes into the flight. When I saw the maple leaf logo, I was reminded of the last time I saw that symbol of Canada. I remember at the time I wondered in my mind when it would be till I see Canada again. And that time has come...

Just read the news to catch up on what I have been missing in Canada (and the world) over the past four months or so. Managed to get an upgrade on the long flight, despite being told twice that I could not. Maybe they made a mistake, for they only want 6upgrade points for a trans-Pacific crossing, which is perhaps three times less than I expected. Oh well...

Perhaps I could get some sleep on the lie flat bed, and adjust to the time difference, so I get back "adjusted" and able to cram everything I've yet to study. I made a start, an hour or so before people started talking loudly on the phone in the business centre of the lounge. It's been over a week since I last studied, and I have less than a week to go till the exam...

I'm a bit tired, as I managed to sleep only four hours or so last night. I lay awake for a while, thinking about all the things at home, and what I'll be facing once at get home. I fell asleep, and I swear I remember dreaming of being with mum and being with a carer. A strange and intense dream.
I woke up at around three, and found mum was moving, and I imagine awake. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn't say much. I massaged her a bit on the shoulders, but she told me to go to sleep. I don't know if she managed to sleep after that...

Before boarding the flight, I called home. Brother had good news, as mum's neurosurgeon approved and signed forms necessary for mum to hire a foreign carer. This may mean she could get one within a month or two. If all goes well, we may not have to "bribe" people, which I was so disgusted by when I first heard about that possible need.

But mum threw up a lot today, so I was told, more than she took in. Brother said she was feeling unwell when she went to the hospital for a check up appointment, and threw up stomach liquids, which mum claims is bile due to the colour. it was worrying to hear that, for she was doing so very well yesterday. And brother panicked, and asked me whether mum should return to the hospital, which I know mum opposes resolutely. That day when she developed a fever close to 39C, I urged her to return to the hospital, but she resisted strongly. Luckily, with some icing and constant monitoring of her temperature, the fever subsided. So with the latest vomiting, I told brother to monitor the situation and see.

What happened today, after I left? What is happening now, 18 hours since I left home? As I told mum again and again before I left, mood can have a profound influence on your state of health and well being. And I just hope, I can only hope, now that I am inching further and further away with every passing second, that she is at ease in her mind and that her body is comfortable.

Night before last night

05052012.0122

Should I be sad? Should I be mourning? Should I face the facts and allow my mood to sink?

Am I lying to myself by being hopeful? Am I fooling the world by not thinking too much about the doctor's words the day mum checked out of hospital?

"It is in the final stages (末期)..." was the only thing the doctor said. He did not know what to say when brother asked for a time. I personally find it somewhat distasteful. As if one could predict when or how or where death, or anything in life, will happen! And what does it matter really? So people could be nicer and do better if someone does not have much longer left? So you could start living more and doing more with your life if you know time is limited?

The doctor was kind to sit down with us for almost half an hour. He drew a picture diagram of mum's inside, and better than before I now can visualise what they did in terms of the surgery and what is causing the jaundice.

I know much of this already, so perhaps that's the reason why I just sat there and let the words wash over me. I felt like I was not in the room, like I was just a bystander, as brother asked the questions and the doctor answered and drew his diagram...

There is a large lump on the duodenum. It is causing food to be trapped in the stomach. They connected a lining of the small intestines to the stomach wall, so that at least some food can leave somewhat naturally down the intestines and be absorbed. The lump is growing larger. It has compressed against the wall of the bile duct, suppressing the flow of bile which normally enters the duodenum. Jaundice is caused when bile, a poisonous substance if not excreted, collects in the body, and it causes the body to turn yellow and causes the liver to slowly lose its functions. Hence mum's continuing tiredness and still yellowish skin tone.

"I discussed with other doctors, and the duodenum is no longer operable." This was contrary to what I was told before, when I was given that glimmer of hope. Hope mixed with anxiety, for back then I was already told it would be a major operation, and I dreaded mum having to face another long stint at the hospital and having to walk on the long road to recovery again... Now, the lump has grown too large, and an operation to remove the duodenum and reconnect the "tubing" in that region ( which involves cutting out a piece of the pancreas, rewiring the biliary tree and readjusting the stomach and intestines even more) is simply too much work and too risky. It's not worth the risk.

"We've done the best we could so your mother can eat. She may still throw up a bit, as some food will still collect in the stomach and not go down the reroute, but at the very least she can eat and drink like before."

As for the bile duct, they installed a tube that is longer and thicker to direct the flow of bile down to the unblocked part of the intestines. For now, it seems to work well, as mum's jaundice level has come down (but still is very high...), but at least the bile is channeled as intended and leaving the body. There is still an open wound and a tube coming out of it, and mum has to have the tube in her for a month or two. The wound has to be cleansed and addressed of every day. Any sign of her skin yellowing more or any sign of fever, she must immediately check into the hospital, for it may be an infection of the wound.

"She can go home and rest and eat. It's important that she eats well and gain back her strength," the doctor reminded us.

Brother is scared, he told me. He's scared of what may happen, and scares of mum's condition worsening. I reassured him in the best way I could. Though, admittedly, I am of course also scared.

"It doesn't matter what will happen in the future, don't think too much about things. They said three years ago mum doesn't have long. Even if something happens tomorrow, or next week, you're doing your best, and you will not be alone. You've got your wife, your kid, and I'll be back too." (momentarily, I must admit, there was a rise in jealousy and sense of longing, for I have none of the important, valuable sources of comfort and support I just mentioned.)

Whatever happens, I am here. I will be here to support you, to support and comfort mum till the very end, I heard myself saying in my head. "You just spend more time with mum, touch her, talk to her, make her feel comfortable and assured. There's nothing more important. There's nothing else we can do but those things."

Brother was silent, but I know he heard me, because I've said the same thing to him several times. And I strongly believe deep down, he also wants to play a role, but he just does not know how or where to start. And I've been also telling mum to give him (and his wife) a chance, not to judge too soon, not to have any preconceptions based on events and unhappiness in the past, but to let them demonstrate what they can do, to let them have their chance at being filial children.

I believe strongly that this is all part of "Operation Eternal Happiness", an effort from all sides to get together and make beautiful memories together to keep, and to keep for life, and to keep even after death. The ways I've seen my brother and sister-in-law bond an interact with mum over the past two days have been very promising. And my nephew's cute little face and multitude of expressions and sweet little bouts of giggles is a wonderful bonus to add to lightening mum's discomforts and adding to her impression that life has been wonderful, and that life continues to be worth all the hardship and pain...

Touching moments

I could not help myself even though I turned away and began to cry. The teardrop flowed down my cheek, even though I pretended it did not happen. I know mum saw it, and that she was hurting too. We were both hurting, both dreading the moment when we must say good-bye... Is there anything more painful than seeing your loved one cry and be utterly powerless to stop your own tears?

"You have been too good to me all these months..." she said, "Having a child like you is worth it all..." She shed tears, and it was so very difficult, so very painful to see mum openly cry. She does not cry when she is feeling pain, she does not cry when she feels so much discomfort. And yet I make her cry... I am making her cry!

I handed mum a tissue and wiped my own tears with my sleeve. "I just hope you are comfortable now you are back home again..." I choked on my words and had difficulty getting my voice out. I stuttered and croaked. "I just hope you can eat and regain your health. The doctor said that's the most important thing now. Eat and recover..." The doctor said so much more, but mum does not need to face so much when she has just overcome an almost six week stay at the hospital. Really, the most important thing is for her to eat, to rest, to eat and eat some more so that she can regain some of her lost weight and look healthy again. In the picture I took of her yesterday, one with me posing next to her as she ate perhaps two, three spoonfuls of noodles, you could tell mum lost a lot of weight... You could tell she's ill. She had the look my uncle had at my brother's wedding. A dazed, fatigued and tortured look. A painful look to look upon...

"I'll eat well and I'll get better. You've done too much for me to let it go to waste..." Mum likes the new mattress cover, and she said several times it's so comfortable and that she feels less of her sores. She kept on asking me how much it cost, and I kept on telling her it was deeply discounted. "The store lady was moved by my story, and she gave me great discounts. And she threw in the heart-shaped pillow for free!" What price can you put on comfort and good rest, I asked mum rhetorically.

"I'm sorry I've been moody and shouted at you, I..."

"It doesn't matter. It's all in the past..." I broke her off. Nothing matters. Nothing except mum being comfortable and at ease in her mind. Nothing else really matters. I have no regrets. The pain I feel is not from regret, but from having gone through so much with mum over the span of over four months. The pain comes from having pulled through, and to see her back home again. What will happen now, what will happen in two weeks, two months from now, nobody knows. The moments of frustration, anger, confusion and being so pushed to the limit... It's all gone, and we made it, somehow we made it. It is a joyful pain, but just as painful, just as heart-wrenching.

"It will be so painful to see you go. You've been here so long. You've done so much, and spent so much money..."

Inside my heart was shattering. I cannot imagine how it will be... Already I am crying, and I feel the tears are just beginning. "It'll be hard to go back, but I must. I promise I'll study hard and do well on the exam. And I'll go to my graduation." Alone, at least without any family present as I had hoped for, but I will go nonetheless.

Brother entered the room. "Mama, are you crying?"

Mum wiped her tears with her fingers. "Weiwei is leaving. It'll be so hard..."

"We're here..." brother said.

"But soon you'll leave too..."

With red and moist eyes, brother uttered the words with difficulty: "Sooner or later we will all leave. You will leave too..." My sister-in-law stood next to him and clung onto my nephew close to her chest. With a free hand, she wiped the corner of her eye.

My nephew giggled, and the mood and all attention turned. He wriggled in his mother's arms like a wriggly worm. He chuckled and seemed to find something so terribly amusing. Perhaps he was laughing at us "crybabies", for the real baby was not crying, but the four of us were. I laid down next to mum while my brother and sister-in-law stood at mum's bedside. I felt in that moment like the luckiest person, and was basking in the warmth of our bonds, our togetherness.

It was such a brief and rare moment, but it was a moment I could not have wished more for. Just the five of us, our whole family together, mum smiling at her grandchild, her children and daughter-in-law at her side. Such a beautiful, touching moment. Shame it did not come earlier, and that there are only two more days for us to relive similar moments together. But we had that moment, and it was so beautiful.

One day, we must all say farewell. But today is not that day, this moment is not that moment.

Time with relatives

04052012.1127

Woke up very early today, and went to visit my grandma (mum's side of the family). It's again my ritual, to pay visits to as many people one either side of the family as possible. I chatted with her a while before I headed over to my aunt's (dad's older sister). Before leaving, I prayed before my grandpa's (mum's dad) altar, and asked him to protest my mother...

We chatted some more, together with my cousin, about my late uncle. Death leads people to reminisce and long for the past, long for the things were. Death also reminds people of those who have gone before, even those long gone, for as we spoke about my uncle's final days, we also spoke about dad and his finals days and moments. I listened and listened. At times it got too much and was difficult to bear. But for my aunt, and my cousin, whose experience of death is much fresher and rawer, speaking about those who have gone triggered inevitable tears.

My aunt recalled the day of the funeral, and how it poured with heavy, heavy rain. A relative came, crying, and held my aunt's hands. "The heavens are weeping. Why is it that the good people go so quickly...?" My aunt said she too started crying. As she recounted the story, her eyes became moist and red again.

It was hard but at the same time also very touching to sit with my relatives and share memories of loved ones, and share our experiences of caretaking and coping with cancer. I felt such sympathy for their loss, and kept telling my aunt that she has done the best she can. "It must have been very hard and hard work for you..." It may all sound so condescending, but it's not meant that way. For I know very well how hard and how much of a hard work it is to live life with your moods pinned to the random swings your loved one's health between good and bad, and worse and hopelessness. The waiting, and the unknown is the most strenuous and arduous of all. And there is the uncertainty of how it will all end coupled with the constant fear of one moment when you suddenly let your guard down or temporarily take a break you might miss the final moment you've been waiting for, you've been dreading... Yes, we are not merely relatives who have lost someone dear. We are also fellow caretakers with a lot to share and talk about on this long and emotionally difficult road..

"Auntie, please take good care of yourself. It's been a hard time for you..." I said and patted my aunt on her shoulder. She's a small lady, with greying hair, and as she aged and grew wrinklier, I saw the reflection of my dear grandma, and saw reflections of my childhood summers in the countryside. How I have grown how people have aged and changed, and passed away... It's all part of growing up, of dealing with life, and death.

I headed to the high speed rail station and caught a train within a minute of it departing. I sat down, and as the train picked up speed the scenery outside began to blur.

Perhaps this is the way life looks at the end... A blurred vision fast forward, with glimpses of deep impressions that remain clearly etched on the mind.

As the world blurred outside, I drifted inwards, drifted and drifted off to sleep and to a world beyond thoughts, beyond words...

In Chiayi

04052012.0304

Arrived in the late afternoon, and first stop was my aunt's place. She (dad's older sister) was surprised, but happy to see me, for it's been a while since we last really connected and talked. Last time I saw her, earlier on Monday, I did not say goodbye, but quietly left after the farewell ceremony. It's part of tradition here: you don't say goodbye or keep the guests for longer than necessary. You just leave.

We caught up on news, and my aunt revealed how in the last month or so of my uncle's life, she was constantly in hospital, afraid to even go home. He weighed 46kg (or so) when he passed away. Before, he was a strong man who stood almost as tall as me...

"He told me he wanted to see the grandchildren grow up..." she said, after I showed her pictures of my nephew and said what happiness children bring to a patient's life. Children give them smiles, hope, and positive energy. Her eyes became red and moist.

I left a little later to visit my uncle (dad's youngest brother). A bachelor still at 62, he's the oddball of the family. I spend a lot of time with him whenever I am in my parents' hometown, because he's by himself, but also because he likes to bike around like I do. We took our usual route, to visit my grandma's resting, and later went to the old folks' community centre for a session of karaoke. I can't sing for my life, but as it was just me and him, I sang- at times mockingly and with a funny taiwanese accent, at times with soul and feelings, especially songs about love and longings for an illusive partner.

I am spending the night at my mum's youngest sister's place, the one who over the past few years has periodically gone up to taipei to be with my mum whenever she needs help around the house. She was a great relief over the past few months, and without her I would have not gotten the few hours of solitude and time to go home go shower and rest.

My aunt and I chatted, mostly about mum. Earlier, when I spoke to mum she said the doctor told she can be discharged as early as tomorrow. But she is worried to go home, for who will take care of her? She can barely walk a few steps, let alone clean herself well or cook for herself. Who will take care of her and look after her needs, something she took for granted at the hospital for she had access to a 24hr carer? I'm leaving in three days, I can no longer be around and keep a constant ear and eye out for mum's well being. And Brother certainly is not up to the task, as well intentioned as he may be. As for my sister-in-law... Well, she's just very distant and handsoff, and she has her hands full with taking care of my nephew...

My aunt said she will go up in a few days, and told me not to worry too much. "Go back and co concentrate on your exam. Your uncles and aunts will take care of things here..."

I don't know what will happen, but my aunt mentioned that around two weeks ago, mum expressed interest to come back down south back to her hometown, where most of her siblings are, so she can have people to look out for her and take care of her in this crucial period of recovery. Mum never mentioned this to me, but if she is willing, if she really means what she said to my aunt, then it may be a good idea, for she needs all the family support and help she can get, and tree is no better place than back here in Chiayi, where all her closest family members are. But mum has a thing with being picky, and being difficult when it comes to asking for help... Maybe she said things back then for the sake of it, because she really never mentioned any of this to me.

Unfinished business

04052012.0138

So many things going through my mind right now... The nature of my random thoughts and disjointed writing style shows just how very scattered and lost my brain is...

I fell asleep, and managed to "sleep" for ten minutes, but was suddenly jolted out of sleep, and now am wide away at 1.42am...

The fact that I am leaving here in a little over 72hours is disturbing me. I feel like there is so much I still need to do, so much I still need to settle before I can board that plane with ease of mind...

Now that mum is/may be leaving hospital and heading home, I need to make the place safe for her and get special equipment in the washroom and toilet to make sure she can safely take care of basic needs. And I will need to tidy up her room, place the new mattress I bought for her on her bed before she returns home. So many things I planned to do before i left home today in a hurry. I never thought mum would be discharged so soon...

...and who will assist her when she showers? Or when she goes to the washroom? She is so weak she can hardly get out of bed without help, without someone having to " lift" her up. Her thin, frail arms have so little strength to prop her own body up...

And who will cook for her? Who will make sure she gets enough nutrients to restore her body to some degree o stable weight and relative good health? Who will monitor her eating and drinking? All I can hear is brother saying "I don't know what to cook..." What can he do then? What is his role in the picture and in the coming two months?

We can maybe ask the carer who's been with mum for the past two weeks to come for a short period of time. But in the long run, we will need to hire a long-term carer to stay with mum due to costs.

All these things here to be done and to think of. But I will have to think of my own life and my exam in a little over ten days!!!

Checking out

04052012.1345

We fought in front of mum, which I know is not pleasant for her to see. In the chaos of checking out the hospital, with so many things to pack, and documents to sign, bills to pay for, and follow up appointments to be made, it did not help that brother made a fuss about what happens after mum returns home.

"I can't take care of her! I don't know what to do!" he kept on saying.

I got upset. "What about me? Did I know what to do? You just learn as you go along!" I retorted, "I can't believe that you two cannot manage to take care of mum when I managed by myself all these months!" I know, it doesn't help to deescalate the situation, but it's been bothering me. He's not even tried to do much since he got back home (admittedly, he was struck down by the cold, but still, he has so far done sorrily little for mum or spent much time with her.

As brother and I exchanged words, mum lay languishing in bed, in great discomfort. I didn't expect him to miraculously know what to do, nor did I expect him to give mum (frankly...) the same level of attentiveness and care I give her. But I did just want him to take some initiative. Take some Initiative, not just be away with his family in another part of the country while mum needs support and as I am about to leave.

Brother got upset when I shouted back at him, something I rarely do. And he started to just throw things around as he packed them. Very mature. "Is this how you want to be?" I asked him, "How can you make mum so insecure and feel some uncomfortable about going home, when she's been so looking forward to returning to the comfort of her own home after being in hospital for so many weeks?"

The main problem is that we've gotten used to having a 24hr carer over the past two weeks. She has even exceptionally good at making mum feel assured, and making sure mum eats and gets up to exercise and walk about at regular intervals. And importantly, the carer could help mum go to the washroom and shower, which can be an awkward experience if I or brother both boys, were to do it. At first we thought that perhaps she could come back home with us, at least for a few days for us to find another live-in carer, but her agent refused to let her go home with us, and arranged for another shift at the hospital as soon as they heard mum could be discharged. That was the reason for brother's panic. he even proposed that mum stay in hospital a few more days so we can take advantage of the carer in the hospital, which was ridiculous, as mum, if she could and had the energy to, would sooner jump out of her hospital bed and rush home. She has been so looking forward to going home!

But panic, and a bit of angry goading from me, is good. Brother got on the phone and started calling and making arrangements, trying to get ahold of human resources agencies who could dispatch a carer within short notice.

I sat with mum and tried to reassure her it would be alright, told her not to be afraid. Deep down, I was planning to change my departure if need be, to stay around to help out more so brother does not become overwhelmed and lost.

We wheeled mum out the hospital, the first time she breathed fresh air, the first time she left the hospital building since she checked in on 20 March. She was very frail, still very weak. I held her hand throughout the ride home. "Almost home," I told her, "it's been far too long..."

When she got off the taxi, there was a step, and she could barely make that step. Her legs had really very little strength, her body had very controllability. It was then that I saw she really needed help, and that it would be a long, tricky road ahead for her to recover and be well enough to walk around on her own. If ever.

We put mum in her own bed. I had rushed home straight from my trip south and before I headed to the hospital to tidy her room a little and make it presentable. Most important of all, I put the mattress top I bought her clandestinely over her bed and under fresh, clean sheets. I hoped she would not notice, but how could she not when there's an obvious difference in "elevation" between where there is a memory foam padding and where there is none?

"What did you buy?" mum asked as she lay on it, "How much was it? How much?"

I didn't answer her question, or at least I answered her with a question. "Is it comfortable? It's supposed to support your whole body so you feel less sores and pains." And that is all that matters, however many times she asked me the price, and even saying she would go back to that store to check the price on her customer records.

"It doesn't matter how much. You're home now and I hope comfortable..."

Musings on a rainy night

Just finished my studying for the night, and the time is a little past one in the morning. Rain is dropping and falling outside, splashing against the window with a melancholic echo. It has not stopped raining for two days...

For the last few days, since mum hired a 24hr carer to stay with her at the hospital, I have been visiting mum significantly less than before. Two hours, perhaps two and a half hours at most, in the evenings, when  I would go and have dinner with her. The rest of the day, I'm at home, studying, or trying to study, and trying to fight off wandering thoughts and fatigue.


I went to the hospital with brother in the evening. I was so lost as what to bring mum, and I really want to cook her something healthy. But she keeps on insisting that her carer will buy food from outside, and that the carer will know what to eat. Even so, I feel kind of guilty, as if I am "neglecting my duties"-- duties I have been shouldering for the past four months almost...

The other day, I brought mum some fish soup and little fish spawn, which are rich in protein. From that, a congee was made, and I served it warm to her for dinner. She gagged and vomited some stomach fluids upon smelling the fishy smell. My brother sat there and complained that I am feeding her things that make her vomit. I retorted: "Well, you cook for her then!"

There has been simmering tensions for a couple of days. While I'm busy studying, I still have to wonder what to bring mum to eat, what to cook for her, and worried about her wellbeing, whereas my brother watches tv all day, and visits mum for not more hours than I do. And mum has complained to me in private that when he visits, he sits there and plays his little games on his phone or touch-pad. Maybe that is his way of showing how he cares...

The other day, mum expressed her frustrations to me. It has been two weeks since my brother and his family returned home. I can count the days, perhaps even the hours, they have been to the hospital. To be fair, they were struck down by a bad cold last week. But since then, my sister-in-law and my nephew have been away in another part of the country, whereas brother is here, but hasn't really done much. In fact, the first week they were back, I hardly felt any difference, for I still had to stay at the hospital every single night until three days ago. And to think, before they arrived, I was consciously telling myself to "step back" and let them take over! To think, there are moments when I am so tempted to do something for mum, but just wait and wait to see whether my brother will notice that she needs help...

There is a reason behind my outburst at my brother earlier on. There is one thing he does well, and that is to sit there and talk about what should be done, but he does not seem able to raise a finger. I told him on several occasions since his return that after I am gone, it is up to him (and his wife) to care for mum, and to make sure that she eats well. "I don't know how to cook...", he says, "I don't know what to do and how to take care of her..."

"Well, learn!" I tell him, "How do you think I coped over the last couple of months?" Not to mention over the past three, four years everyt ime I was back here. Of course, mum's condition is much worse than before now, much worse than ever before, but still there are basic things he can do to make mum feel cared for, make her feel appreciated, and make her feel like his presence makes a difference. And I asked him rhetorically, "How can you two not manage to do what I managed to do on my own here in the past few months?"

I know I should not judge other people's standards with my own. But really, how difficult is it to go visit mum at the hospital, to talk to her, perhaps have a happy conversation about happy things? Why is it so hard to see when mum is in pain or discomfort and to massage her feet and arms whenever she scrunches up her face or groans? Again, I cannot judge my brother (or sister-in-law) for what they do (or do not do...), for as someone said to me (and without wanting to toot my own horn....), it is hard to live up to what I do for mum. But I just wish there were more interaction between my brother and mum. I just wish brother would take more initiative at doing something, instead of just sitting there, watching TV or playing games on his phone (admittedly, I did that too sometimes when I was at the hospital for long, long hours...).

No wonder mum is getting frustrated. She told me frankly the other day she needs rest and a peaceful environment to recover after she returns home. What she does not need to deal with is tensions or having to deal with bad attitude. And since what happened in Europe when she visited last year, she has been utterly disappointed and disheartened by my brother and his wife. So she already has preconceptions about what their presence here can bring, and she is not really enthusiastic about them staying here for the next two months or so. In fact, I have repeatedly tried to tell her not to have any predjudices against them, for what has gone by in the past is in the past. I have repeatedly tried to put in a good word for them and told mum they genuinely want to spend some quality time with her and do "something" for her, and I told her the importance of giving them a chance to prove themselves, before it is "too late". But mum seems unpersuaded. And my brother's behaviour (and sister-in-law's absence) since their return does nothing to improve mum's impression of them.

Ten more days, and I will be leaving. It is scary, and very sad, to think about that... Ten more days. How long I have been here already! How slow the days and minutes seemed to pass at times, but it is now already four months since my arrival, and I am soon to leave here. What is there still to do for me? What is there still for me do organise, to plan, to put into place before I leave?

I'm not sure how things will be without me here, but it will just have to be. Have I not done enough? Are my brother and sister-in-law not older than me, both by four years, are they not parents already? They should know best how to take care of someone, and how to be attentive to the needs of someone under their care.

I just hope that when I am gone, they will all manage to find a way to coexist, and that my brother and his wife will both find a meaningful role to play in the crucial stage of mum's recovery at home. I just hope that, as I imagined it, as I dreamed and hoped for, that this big effort to bring everyone together will not be ruined or soured by conflicts, tensions and frustrations.

For what a shame, a terrible, terrible regret it would be if perhaps the last long period of time mum has together with my brother and his family were to be marred by arguments and misunderstandings, or worse, them leaving here in a huff...

Plans

I felt so terribly tired and drained today, and I have this terrible paranoia that I'm falling ill. It's not helped by the fact that I repeatedly tell my brother, who's still sniffing away and sometimes sneezing, to put on a mask and he does not listen. Over lunch, he accidentally sneezed, and I could feel vapours lands on my hand, and I'm sure into my food...

Normally I'd head back to hospital at around seven in the evening, but today I was just too tired, too lazy, so I let my brother go, and said I'd go by later and sleep there. I don't know what got into me, but I just felt so very tired and could not pry myself out of bed and study as I planned to, but instead was just lounging around and watching reruns of a comedy online.

I arrived at the hospital at close to nine thirty. mum and my brother and I talked a bit. He asked how my studying is going, and I admitted it's been terribly slow, and that I'm very tired. It was the mum mentioned my plan to head back to Canada soon in order to study, really focus on studying.

"Go book your ticket already! Why are you still waiting?!" he said.

I'm still waiting because I'm so uncertain what mum's condition is, and I seem to be waiting for a sign that she's be ok. That sign would be when she gets discharged from hospital, then at least I'll have some ease of mind.

"Just go and book your flights..." mum joined in brother's advice, "It'll make me happy to see you go after your own plans..."

Was she just saying it, or did she really mean it. Moments later, when brother was not around any more, and as I massaged her arms and legs with lotion (they are terribly dry from the aircon and also bad nutrition...) she told me to stop treating her like this. "I'll be so sad when you're not here..."

Mum deep down wants me to go and do my own things. She even said that she hopes the position I applied for two weeks ago will have a positive response, for she would be so proud to see me work and make some income. But I know she will hurt when I leave. I know I will hurt when I leave... We have gone through so much over the past (almost...) four months. And thinking back at what I try to do to make her feel comfortable and loved,
I know I will be so sad and that it'll be so hard to "let go" when I leave... It'll be so hard after all the effort and time I've spent trying to get mum better and on her own feet again...

"I'm here now, so go and do what you have to do!" brother urged again, "If you want to go travel a bit, go now. I'll be here with mum..."

I must learn to let go, to let others take over. I must not think only I am able to do things, only I am able to make mum feel comfortable and cared for. I must give brother (and my sister-in-law) a chance to be mum's children, a chance to demonstrate that they too care about her. As much as I'm unwilling, I must learn to let go, learn to leave and not feel guilty or like I'm forsaking my mother...

So I booked my flight, and perhaps as soon as the day after it is my hope to be on my long-awaited road trip.

Return

Finally, the day of my brother and his family's return has arrived, and I spent a few hours preparing the house for their arrival in the afternoon. It was a clear evening, very hot and humid for a change. I made my way to the airport, and was excited to see my nephew again. It's only been two weeks, but it seems like everyday he's changing, everyday he's learning new "moves" and new ways to be cute.

Perhaps they are all tired from having flown almost half way around the world (and lugging no less than seven suitcases, not even counting the baby buggy and car seat...). It was a quite ride back into the city and home. With barely half an hour to rest, my brother and I made our way to the hospital to see mum, hoping she did not go to sleep yet.

Mum was of course excited to see my brother, and she smiled and smiled seeing him, though she kept on telling him to go home and rest. Brother hasn't seen mum close up for two months, and I think seeing her in the state she is in now surprised and silenced him (or perhaps he is just not very expressive and doesn't know what to say or do to show his care...?) He sat down next to mum's bed, and just sat and asked the "usual questions": how have you been? Have you been eating? etc...

 Perhaps I am too "demanding", and I cannot judge how someone behaves... but I wish brother could be more expressive in action. A stroke of mum's arm, a touch of her legs or feet, anything that comprises of a human touch can mean so much! But my brother just sat there and listened to mum describe how she has been. I lightened the mood a bit and in a funny way tried to capture how mum was sleep talking and how she managed to pull out her NJ tube the other day (even though at the time it caused me quite a scare....) And I joked mum is eating like my nephew, mostly liquids, and that she began to eat shredded bits of apple. Another way mum is like my nephew (though this is a bit dark kind of humour...) is that she has to wear diapers in the evening, just in case...

It was a short visit, for it was already half past ten at night. We walked home, and on the way brother asked me more questions... about how mum "really" is, about whether the doctor said anything about her other organs and the spreading... I didn't know what to answer him, except to tell him it is good that mum can drink a little already, and that she is not vomiting so much (though, in the early evening, she vomited another bagful, which was very painful to see again, for it has been almost ten days that mum has not vomited....)

I was very tired to reply... So tired for some reason. Not only did I sleep terribly last night, but I think I am also so tired of having to talk about mum's condition and all that has happened over the past two months. I know my brother is anxious to know, anxious to know details, but I am just so tired, at least at this very moment, to describe it all and go into details. Frankly, because it is depressing, it is so heavy to talk about... And to be honest, I have fears seeing mum have severe diarrhea and also  vomit so much (or was it just a one-off this evening??) that the surgery was perhaps a failure. If it is, what then? What then...? When can she go home? Mum was talking so hopefully that she can go home soon, but can she really if she continues to vomit and have bad bouts of diarrhea?

I don't know. But at least brother and his family are home. And it is comforting to see that. Comforting and beautiful to see that he and his wife are around, to see how supportive and important it is to have someone dear in your life to be with you at a difficult period of your life. And even better, even more beautiful is seeing my baby nephew again...

Return

"I can't tell you when to book a ticket or when you should fly!" I said, for the n-th time. I know brother is concerned and that his concerns can only be allayed by news from me on this side of the world. But I really can't tell him, as much as I would like to, he can come back on this date and things will still be ok, and mum will still be around. Who knows that? How can I or anyone be certain of that?

Last week I spoke to him on the phone after the diagnosis that mum's vomiting is in fact related to the cancer spreading. I hinted to him, with the hope he would propose it himself, that he should come back for some time, to spend time with mum. I didn't say it, but he knew what I wanted to say: sometimes you have one chance in life, and if you miss it, you may regret it for the rest of your life. And spending time, precious, quality time with your own mother when you still have the chance is one such chance. Since then, brother's asked for (and gotten approval) an unpaid sabbatical from his work of three months, and I told him not to worry about bills and mortgage payments in the meantime, for I can take care of those. Nothing is more important right now than being there with mum at such a critical and touch-and-go period of her life...

Brother's been calling everyday, the most frequent he has ever contacted me in my entire life. I tell him what I know, and reassure him not to worry too much, and to focus on his work. I know it's hard, especially being so far away and worried sleepless, but I can only tell him things are being dealt with, and that it's best for him to return ASAP.

Problem is, my sister-in-law and nephew are still here in Taiwan, and they were planning to only go back to europe at the end of March (thus two days from now), before all this vomiting and the latest diagnosis.

This means they'll go back to Europe, and within a week or two (at most!) my nephew and sister-in-law will have to make the same long, long journey back. Not difficult for me, as I've done something as crazy before, but we're talking about a mother taking a baby who is just seven months old!

They must return to Europe, for there are some urgent matter to deal with. My nephew's vaccination is due in a few days, and my sister-in-law must start applying to renew her residence visa, or otherwise she'll have to leave the Netherlands (even being married to a local citizen!) And my brother has to arrange the house, arrange for his/my cat to be taken care of in his absence, and so many other things he has to do.

I know my brother is worried, because as far as he knows mum's doing very poorly, and he's heard it from me, and heard it from him wife, but he's not seen just how poorly mum has been doing. So naturally he's anxious and terrified, and I think most of all, of missing the opportunity to see mum and spend some time with her.
So he kept on asking me for a date to return, but I simply can't give him one. "Just deal with what you need to do, choose a date, and book a ticket. If circumstances change, then change your plans accordingly!"

What else can you do? I just find it so bizarre how some people, including my friends, just book a ticket and make plans well in advance and get so frustrated by changes in plans. Life happens, plans must adapt accordingly. What else can you do? Lament fate and the unexpected twists and turns of life and circumstances? I wanted to say to my brother "Welcome to my world! This is how my life has been for the last four years!!" For it's true. I come and go and stay without knowing when I'll come, when I'll go and how long I'll be staying. To be frank, I despise this kind of uncertainty, I really crave for stability and familiarity, crave for the ability to spend a few months, a year at a time at one place (for me that would be in Canada, with my little cat and friends...), but I've just not been able to do that. Is it by choice? Perhaps, for I can simply choose to stay put and not care about mum and just go do my own things. But I can't, I can't just "abandon" her, I can't just turn the other way and not feel at all conflicted or guilty...

So what else can you do but make plans, and wait and see. If it works out, great. If not, we can only see how things are or can be and decide accordingly when we get to a point when circumstances make us choose and make us prioritise. Not everyone (and I doubt anyone!) is free to live so meticulously and timely without the possibilities of unexpected changes occurring.

and especially in the face of the possibility of losing your mother, your remaining parent, I should hope that everyone will make changes to their plans and act accordingly.

Operation Reunion

17032012.1504

Brother looked so terribly sad, frowning and almost in tears. Poor him, waking up in the morning and having to receive news of mum's latest diagnosis as soon as he opened his eyes. Mum did not go much into detail when they spoke, and I stayed quiet on the side to let them have their moment together. I wrote to brother and said I'll speak to him more over the weekend. We need to have a real chat.

Brother's been calling almost everyday, at my urging. I've been writing to him, asking him to contact mum more often. Otherwise, before he would only call once a week, if that. You never know when or how, but I do know death can often leave the people left behind filled with regret, deep deep regret. Regret that weighs heavily on the mind, and may always, always linger, even with time. But this can be prevented.

I've also been asking my sister-in-law to put more pictures and videos of my nephew on Facebook. I often show mum pictures of what i have on my phone, but they are from a month or so ago. And in a way, I'm afraid that mum seeing her "old" self, even from a month ago, may be difficult for her...

Really, seeing my nephew is the only thing that makes mum smile and makes her temporarily forget about her illness and her pains. And any temporary relieve or escape from pain and suffering is very welcome.

With the pending readmission into hospital, I asked my sister-in-law to bring my nephew to Taipei to be with his grandma for a few days. Otherwise, my sister-in-law and nephew are due to return to Europe in a week or two. And if they come visit later, mum will be in hospital, where it'll be harder for my nephew to visit.

Operation Reunion is a new "project" I am planning to adapt to the new diagnosis and changing circumstances. The goal is to bring this family as close together as possible, in any possible way. To unite this family, and reassure mum and all of us, that we are still a family no matter what happens.

Originally, I had planned to bring everyone together in Canada for my graduation in June (in fact, I got an email today reminding me to register for my gown...). But more and more with mum's deteriorating health, that the dream may very likely not be happening. Mum is simply too weak, and with the latest complications and pending surgery it's even less likely that mum will be able to travel far.

So if I can't bring mum and the family together, why not bring the family to mum? I've been thinking about it for a few days already. My brother and his family visiting me in Canada can always wait, the ticket I bought them can always be cancelled. But time together as a whole family, that may not be able to wait, that cannot be cancelled, for what could be more important? So I told my brother it's best if instead of going to Canada they came back here again. If need be, I'll make the necessary travel arrangements.

There is nothing worth more than a family brought together. There is nothing worth more to see mum smile and laugh with her children and grandchild.

Those memories, those laughs, those smiles are something to look forward to, something to cling onto in the face of the difficult, difficult days ahead.

Home again

Home finally after five days. Mum walked so slowly, even slower than me dragging a suitcase and two heavy bags. I put away everything, put clothes in the wash, tidied up a bit, while mum sat there looking so very, very tired. "Go rest, you haven't slept well in a few days..." I said. I haven't either, especially because of the almost constant background noise of patients and nurses, and beeping of machines. Mum must have slept even less due to her bone sores and her constant discomfort.  I put mum in bed, and covered her. She wanted a specific blanket, and grabbed at it. The tartan woollen one I bought her in Nova Scotia and sent her last year for Christmas. As I covered her, her body was twisted in a mangle, her legs looked so painfully thin... As I massaged her arm, her fingers, they felt so painfully bony. "Sleep well," I said, "You're home now..."

YUL-ORD

0142102914823 YUL-ORD I feel strangely calm. Have I been preparing for this in my sleeplessness nights? Have I been mentally bracing for this very  day during nights when my mind was filled with terrible dreams and frightful dread?  Where does this calm come from? I'm enjoying it, the calm; it is carrying me, allowing me to brave through the turbulent shock of the latest news of mum's hospitalisation and impending surgery. A strange, gentle calm... Or is it just the lack of sleep and fatigue? Fatigue too can be soothing, pain- and emotion-numbing. Do I perhaps detect an queer sense of excitement mixed with disbelief that this day has finally come? Is there a sense of relief that perhaps after such a long, long time, this may be the end of everything, the end of all that I have so feared and imagined? Nothing is more real than this moment. No imagination, however vivid and fantastical the mind, can conjure this very moment of sitting in the little jet and me typing this on my iPhone. Perhaps the calm comes from knowing that this vital surgery will (if successful) remove the tumour that has for the past year or so caused mum so much pain, suffering, dozens of chemo and radiotherapy sessions. Whatever the reason, I am calm, I am so surprisingly calm, and brave.  I have not shed a tear, not yet.  I have been so close, but the calm and strange peace that reigns my mind now is containing the tears, for I know there will be a time and place for that. And I am and feel  so fortunate to be so calm, to be so brave still. This calm I'm enjoying now has allowed me to comfort mum, to let me talk to her without betraying my fears, my worries, for at this very moment, a mother who has to hear her scared and panicking child sob and lose control of all emotions is the least she needs now.  And my calm, brave voice has allowed me to comfort brother, who was sniffing on the phone, and I can only imagine distraught and so very lost... My calm, this strange inner peace, has allowed to thank and thank again my friends who stayed with me for hours in that mad search for a suitable ticket at 1am... The calm has allowed me to thank and thank again all those family members and relatives and friend's of mum's who are now gathered by her bedside at Taipei Veterans General Hospital.  So what happened...? Why am I flying now and reliving feelings and fears I had almost four years ago when I packed my bags and rushed home to catch a glimpse of dad?  Somehow I knew it, somehow I felt it. I was not imagining things when for the past two weeks or so I felt mum has been particularly  quiet and hiding something from me. I was not too wrong when I told my ex the other day that I may need to head home soon. And here I am, doing exactly what, strangely and without any logical explanation what my intuition and suspicions told me about something being wrong. Details are still vague and hard to come by because of poor phone connections and difficulty having a proper conversation. My cousin called after eleven after I just came from a walk to clear my head. Thank goodness I saw it when it rang picked up almost immediately. She passed me to mum, and it was mum who said that she was in the hospital. Admitted I believe yesterday night (or was it morning? Hard to figure out the chronology of events right now) mum said she began feeling her limbs getting very weak. At various moments during the seemed, when she was again visiting her friend in the countryside, her knee could not hold her weight, and she just collapsed. Yesterday, not long after (or was it before?) I called her, she went to the washroom and her knee collapsed again, causing her to injure her face. She got herself to the hospital and immediately saw her main physician, and the famous neurosurgeon. Together they admitted her into the emergency ward immediately, and began to do scans and tests. Her youngest sister (my cousin's mum) rushed from the south of the country to be with mum, and they have been there with her since... The tests and MRI scans ("the massive, thunderous machine", as mum reminded me, for I went with her to get a scan almost a year ago...) revealed that the tumour growing on the spine has not gotten much bigger, so it is possible to operate and remove it surgically. If not done soon, the compression of the nerves will cause her to lose more and more of the mobility of the limbs and eventually lead to paralysis ("Like Superman [actor Christopher Reeves]", mum said, something she has repeatedly said whenever in the past she spoke her fear of becoming paraplegic...)  "I don't want to burden people. Imagine if I were dependent on people for my every need... It's best to have the surgery now..." Mum said that the doctors are top notch, and they reassured her that they have performed this kind of surgery numerous times. "It's time," she said "I can't bear the pain and always having to rely on painkillers..." As difficult as it was to contain my wavering voice, my shaking hands, mum said a couple of things that almost provoked outbursts of tears. She said she regrets that this year she might not be able to go see dad on the anniversary of his passing together with brother, my sister-in-law and my nephew for the first time... And throughout, she kept on telling me to stay put and study for my exams (as if I would have the ability to focus...). I was glad she told me, for a great fear is that she would hide things from me till it was too late... And as much as she persuaded (in vain of course...) not to rush home, perhaps deep down she wished to see me. Whatever she felt, as I spoke with her, with one hand I held onto my phone, with the other my trembling fingers frantically began searching for flights leaving the next morning. But, looking back now, I amaze myself at how strong I was, how strong I remained throughout the frank conversation with mum about her latest condition... All thanks to this strange, strange calm. Mum was hopeful, or at least she tried to sound it. She said she has confidence in the health care team, and that she believed the surgery would go well. What did she really feel deep down inside? I cannot, I could not, look into her eyes and see what her true feelings are...  She said she wants to see my nephew. She said she wants to get better so she can travel again. She said she wants to come to Canada and attend my graduation... That was the moment when it got too much that I choked and tried to cover it up with a cough. To which she said: "Take care of your cough, go to sleep already!" Typical, typical of mum, my dear, brave mum... At the airport I called again, and found out more people had arrived to see mum, to be with mum. I spoke to her, wanted to tell her things before it is "too late". "Be strong, hang on there, I'm coming home, I'll be home soon! I love you mum..." I'm not sure if she heard the last, but most important bit, for it was and felt awkward to say it, especially in Mandarin. As much as I do for her, and have tried to be there for mum, I've never (I don't think) ever said "I love you" to her.  But there are times in life when you know, when you feel if you do not do or say something, you may regret for the rest of your life, that may make you may feel guilt ridden forever. So I sent her a recorded video message in case she did not hear me. "Mama... I'm here at the gate about to board. Hang on there. Brother and I, we're both thinking of you, sending you metta. I love you, take good care, see you soon." The magical, beautiful and true-to-the-heart words I said in English, for it felt more natural, more real that way... The cabin air is dry, the engines are roaring and the plane is starting its descent into ORD. The first leg of what will bound to be a long, long and difficult journey is about to end...  I slept perhaps ten minutes or so since getting on board. The excitement of rushing home again, barely two months after I returned from home is keeping me awake. The excitement of what I'll face and have to deal with at home is keeping me awake... Another journey, another long long journey to go...

Homecoming

Homecoming
3 Dec

Not many know about my return home. My mum knows, my brother and his family know, and two friends also know too. And I asked them not to tell. As far as everyone else  is concerned, I'm still home in montreal, going about my routine...

A main part of the reason why this trip is done in (almost complete) secrecy is because I'm saving up and building up the suspense and the curiosity till the day I surprise my friend.

Another is because I'm always wary not to advertise too much nowadays where I'm going, because people might just have the wrong impression of me. Yes, I  travel a lot. Yes, I have the means to do so and don't have to think too much about money and obligations like work, but I travel mainly to visit family, and not to go on so exotic vacation and indulge in luxury. And to me that's always a reason to travel, or at least I tell myself so.

My brother insisted on picking me up at the airport. Not just in the car, but he insisted on going inside to the arrivals terminal to greet me as I come out. The last time someone did that was my ex, in Vancouver, and it is a welcome, wonderful feeling.

I saw them almost immediately, and they greeted me with a smile. My sister-in-law stood next to my brother, who had a little baby his arms. "Hello! Who's this?" I asked jokingly.

My nephew, my beautiful, beautiful  nephew, whom I've only seen in pictures and videos. Now, for the first time, I was seeing and stroking softly on the cheeks for the first time in his life, for the first time in my life. My heart lit up in a way I never imagined possible. Right in front of, the source of joy in many people's lives, especially that of mum's. I smiled and stroked his thin hair while he looked at me with big, curious eyes.

 I gave my brother an semi hug, awkward as he had my nephew, and I gave my sister-in-law three kisses on the cheeks. "Welcome home to Holland!" she wished me. I looked around the terminal building... At the big Heineken advertising in the distance, at the bouquets of tulips at the florist, the pungent smell of coffee in air, mixed with a cacophony of chatter in Dutch In the background. All these familuar sights and sounds of home, triggering memories of my youth and childhood to flood gently flow back. Home again, after a year and a half away...

Best of all, it felt wonderful to be reunited with family...