I reached mum finally after a long time trying. Eventually I got a hold of her at the hospital. She was waiting for the doctor, her main physician. But there was something in her voice...
I can't tell what, and she wouldn't tell me what. I could hear from the background noise she was at the hospital. Was it for her return visit? Is not today the day she'd get her results? Or is something happening...?
"I need to go," she said, and there ended our brief conversation.
Something is up...
08 September 2011
07 September 2011
Changes
I notice little things. Changes, displacements, disappearances. I can sit in a room, look around and notice the little things, the little details.
I stayed over at the ex's place last night. Under the pretext of wanting to dissect the movie we had just watched together. But as so often, we ended up in bed, and I succumbed to the the intoxicating lure of his body and warmth.
At breakfast, we sat in the living room. And I noticed. A calendar- poster I had once scribbled and drawn on with unerasable marker that had been placed behind the tv was now gone. Gone, put away like the rest of the little notes I had once written and left behind. Little marks, little reminders of me, of us, mostly gone, hidden away from sight. Even permanent markings can be removed.
Again, I don't blame him. Move on, I had said to him. And what better way to do that than hide memories of the past? Especially if he is going to have the boy he feels for in his apartment. Perhaps soon enough, the gifts, soft animals and mementos I once gave him will also vanish from the shelves and bookcases. All those trips, moments together, hapiness shared commitments made... They will slowly fade with time and fading memories and make room for new ones, and I do hope for his sake, for his wellbeing and happiness, much happier and more memorable ones. The apartment will be emptier, emptier of a past gone by, and of the presence and role I once had in his life.
There was an awkward silence.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said, breaking the silence. I was on my way to a lecture. But that phrase had another meaning too.
I'll walk out that door, the door will shut behind mere. And I will be gone.
I stayed over at the ex's place last night. Under the pretext of wanting to dissect the movie we had just watched together. But as so often, we ended up in bed, and I succumbed to the the intoxicating lure of his body and warmth.
At breakfast, we sat in the living room. And I noticed. A calendar- poster I had once scribbled and drawn on with unerasable marker that had been placed behind the tv was now gone. Gone, put away like the rest of the little notes I had once written and left behind. Little marks, little reminders of me, of us, mostly gone, hidden away from sight. Even permanent markings can be removed.
Again, I don't blame him. Move on, I had said to him. And what better way to do that than hide memories of the past? Especially if he is going to have the boy he feels for in his apartment. Perhaps soon enough, the gifts, soft animals and mementos I once gave him will also vanish from the shelves and bookcases. All those trips, moments together, hapiness shared commitments made... They will slowly fade with time and fading memories and make room for new ones, and I do hope for his sake, for his wellbeing and happiness, much happier and more memorable ones. The apartment will be emptier, emptier of a past gone by, and of the presence and role I once had in his life.
There was an awkward silence.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said, breaking the silence. I was on my way to a lecture. But that phrase had another meaning too.
I'll walk out that door, the door will shut behind mere. And I will be gone.
Hospital visit
It started a few days ago, when a friend (and former flatmate) was admitted into the hospital. Ever since she moved out, we've not had much contact but are on friendly terms.
I wrote her a message hoping her a speedy recovery and let her know that if she needs anything I can help.
Yesterday, after a series of tests, she was admitted into the emergency ward. I just finished watching a movie with my friend, and she had asked to have contact lens solution delivered. This was minutes before midnight, closing time, so I ran and ran and was so out of breath by the time I arrived, and was lucky enough to have a minute to spare before they announced the pharmacy was closing. I picked up what she needed and a little card with flowers. Not much choice, but it had orchids on the front, her favourite. And quickly, briefly I scribbled a little message inside.
Originally I didn't want to go visit her, but accompanied my friend anyways. She looked so pale and frail when I saw her, and she was shivering. From the cold, or from fear? I wasn't sure. I hugged her and told her again if she needs anything.... she needed to be in hospital for observation and more tests. More tests and waiting...
It was already after midnight, yet the emergency ward was busy. A young girl in tears wiped her eyes as a nurse spoke to her quietly. A few were asleep in armchairs, a lady had red, red eyes, moist from tears. A man sat forlorn and looked out the window. And elderly man, unshaven, with a wrinkled face and pale, pale hair sat up on his hospital bed and reached his arm out, as if in need, as wanting help or company.
They were all waiting, waiting... Just waiting, for how long already I don't know. For how much longer perhaps they don't know either. Strangers brought together in a bright place that smells of medicine in the middle of the night The tv was silent, but showed a late night talk show, the host of which made funny faces and was surrounded by colourful, big captions.
I found myself surrounded by patients, and reminded of the drab and dreariness of hospitals. It was a reason why I was hesitant to go inside and would have preferred to stay by the door.
In truth, I did not want to see patients lying around with tubes attached to their arms... I did not want to see the sadness, the tears and hurt of family and relatives and witness unnecessarily the fragility of health and being human. It reminds me too much of... Of what I don't want to be reminded of.
I went out to buy something for my friend, who had not eaten much for the day. I ran and ran up and down the steep hill leading to the hospital. Despite the running and the sweat running down my cheeks, for some reason I smiled. Not at the situation, but what little I could do to make the situation a little better, just a little better. Even if it's just getting a small slice of pizza in the middle of the night, or giving my friend a little card or warm hug... A little gesture says a lot.
Once again, it is what I do "best", what allows me to shine and show care and compassion. Not to boost my own ego, but to let people around me be touched in little ways.
And I like that.
I wrote her a message hoping her a speedy recovery and let her know that if she needs anything I can help.
Yesterday, after a series of tests, she was admitted into the emergency ward. I just finished watching a movie with my friend, and she had asked to have contact lens solution delivered. This was minutes before midnight, closing time, so I ran and ran and was so out of breath by the time I arrived, and was lucky enough to have a minute to spare before they announced the pharmacy was closing. I picked up what she needed and a little card with flowers. Not much choice, but it had orchids on the front, her favourite. And quickly, briefly I scribbled a little message inside.
Originally I didn't want to go visit her, but accompanied my friend anyways. She looked so pale and frail when I saw her, and she was shivering. From the cold, or from fear? I wasn't sure. I hugged her and told her again if she needs anything.... she needed to be in hospital for observation and more tests. More tests and waiting...
It was already after midnight, yet the emergency ward was busy. A young girl in tears wiped her eyes as a nurse spoke to her quietly. A few were asleep in armchairs, a lady had red, red eyes, moist from tears. A man sat forlorn and looked out the window. And elderly man, unshaven, with a wrinkled face and pale, pale hair sat up on his hospital bed and reached his arm out, as if in need, as wanting help or company.
They were all waiting, waiting... Just waiting, for how long already I don't know. For how much longer perhaps they don't know either. Strangers brought together in a bright place that smells of medicine in the middle of the night The tv was silent, but showed a late night talk show, the host of which made funny faces and was surrounded by colourful, big captions.
I found myself surrounded by patients, and reminded of the drab and dreariness of hospitals. It was a reason why I was hesitant to go inside and would have preferred to stay by the door.
In truth, I did not want to see patients lying around with tubes attached to their arms... I did not want to see the sadness, the tears and hurt of family and relatives and witness unnecessarily the fragility of health and being human. It reminds me too much of... Of what I don't want to be reminded of.
I went out to buy something for my friend, who had not eaten much for the day. I ran and ran up and down the steep hill leading to the hospital. Despite the running and the sweat running down my cheeks, for some reason I smiled. Not at the situation, but what little I could do to make the situation a little better, just a little better. Even if it's just getting a small slice of pizza in the middle of the night, or giving my friend a little card or warm hug... A little gesture says a lot.
Once again, it is what I do "best", what allows me to shine and show care and compassion. Not to boost my own ego, but to let people around me be touched in little ways.
And I like that.
06 September 2011
One (more) day
After the movie I turned to my friend and kissed him on the cheeks. He returned the gesture with a kiss on his fingers and placed them on my neck. Was it because he was uncomfortable, feeling awkward about kissing in front of a cinema of people? Or was he just uncomfortable, feeling awkward to kiss me, period? I don't know. I know I gave him that kiss and meant it.
I invited him to the movie, partly because the last time we watched something it had been a terribly long and growling film, and I wanted to make it up in a way. I had mentioned the movie to him earlier, when I first saw the ad. Two people, in the middle of the street, in the middle of what seems like a long, intense and passionate kiss. The French title is "Vingt ans" ( Twenty Years), the English one is "One day".
I had guessed what the movie was generally about before going, but it was in no way predictable. I wanted to go alone at first, but the movie seemed something "perfect" for us to watch, especially because (or despite?) of our break up. And I was glad he came in the end.
Two people meet in university, have a passionate night together, and they keep in touch. The movie moves forward with scenes from 15 July of (almost) every year that passes by over the span of some twenty (?) years- the date of their first night spent together.
We see how their lives progress or descend into chaos, see how they lives diverge and change, how their personalities and feelings for one another wane and change. Many things in life change, people come and go, people move around, people grow older, and perhaps more bitter and cynical, and people realise what is really important to them an to their lives, realise what or who it is that makes them happy, genuinely happy. Though feelings for one another may change, the deep connection and emotional bond that was somehow forged, even so long ago, still was alive and passionate.
Throughout the years the two manage to stay friends, or delude themselves that they are mere friends. They talk often, and write long letters to one another. When one is having a crisis, the other person is the first person who comes to mind and who is contacted.
After so many years, and numerous failed relationships, the two meet again and realise they are meant for one another. They stay together, promise each other to be true, to not let anything stand in their way again. Both are older now, with graying hair, and both may have lost that vitality and carefreeness of their youth, but the emotional connection, the physical attraction and unexplainable depth of connection between their hearts and minds has remained constant, and perhaps grew even stronger.
But happiness, genuine happiness, does not, and never does, last forever. However deep the devotion, however precious the relationship, somehow, sometime one person leaves first. All too abruptly perhaps, and in ways beyond our control. And as for the main characters, the period of time it took them to finally get together was too long, and the time they were together was much too short.
The movie touched me, and personally spoke to me. It made me cry, partly because the mother of one of the characters is taken away by cancer, leaving behind a lonely husband and son who was never really able to reconcile with how he behaved as she became weaker and weaker. One particular scene, when the son had to carry his frail, pale-looking mother up the stairs, left a lump in my throat. I swallowed deep, swallowing away most of my tears and the pangs of pain.
The movie touched me too, because I find myself in a similar situation, a tragedy even, with my ex. We both know (at least I think so...) deep down how much we mean to one another. We both reminisce how beautiful, how compatible we were when we were together. But because of circumstances beyond our control, undesired even, we simply cannot be.
The movie also left on me, and echoed, this glimmer of hope that perhaps, perhaps, if we are meant to be, we may still meet again and come together somewhere down our lives. But it also left that question, that annoying little rhetoric of why wait? Why torture the hearts and lives of two people who deep down knowingly feel so strongly for one another any longer? For what? Happiness, genuine love and the beauty of two people meeting and falling in love, should be treasured and held onto, for as long as you can, whenever you can.
After the movie I turned to kiss my friend on the cheek. We walked quietly away, and I reflected on the movie somewhat as my salty tears dried on the corners of my eyes and cheeks.
Maybe one day we will wake up from this all, and live, and love, and be happy, truly happy.
Sushi
I just came out of the French language course I started. it was late and I was hungry. Quickly I went to pick up sushi from a place that was closing and made my way to the cinema where I was supposed to meet my friend.
I walked and walked, and by the bright shop window of a high end fashion store, saw a bearded homeless man begging. His face was soiled, but he had a warm smile. Before him, in a blue upturned cap, were a few meager coins. I smiled at him, and he smiled even more back. I gestured with my sushi, wanting to offer it to him.
But selfishness and my own hunger took over me, and I stopped my gesturing before he really noticed and quickly walked on by. I walked quickly and left the man behind me.
But though i had left him behind, his image did not escape me as I hungrily devoured my sushi.
I felt terrible, however hungry I was, he must have been hungrier. I ate a few pieces out the box and quickly walked back. I saw him and approached slowly.
I felt terribly embarrassed. perhaps he recognized me. I bent down and handed him the remaining five pieces cucumber rolls. Not much, really not much, perhaps even too little. He could have had a whole box when i walked by him the first time. But despite my embarrassment and shame, he greeted me again with a smile, and as he took the box with both hands and sincere gratitude, a "Thank you".
"Have a good night" I wished him He certainly made mine, and I left him feeling warmed inside.
I walked and walked, and by the bright shop window of a high end fashion store, saw a bearded homeless man begging. His face was soiled, but he had a warm smile. Before him, in a blue upturned cap, were a few meager coins. I smiled at him, and he smiled even more back. I gestured with my sushi, wanting to offer it to him.
But selfishness and my own hunger took over me, and I stopped my gesturing before he really noticed and quickly walked on by. I walked quickly and left the man behind me.
But though i had left him behind, his image did not escape me as I hungrily devoured my sushi.
I felt terrible, however hungry I was, he must have been hungrier. I ate a few pieces out the box and quickly walked back. I saw him and approached slowly.
I felt terribly embarrassed. perhaps he recognized me. I bent down and handed him the remaining five pieces cucumber rolls. Not much, really not much, perhaps even too little. He could have had a whole box when i walked by him the first time. But despite my embarrassment and shame, he greeted me again with a smile, and as he took the box with both hands and sincere gratitude, a "Thank you".
"Have a good night" I wished him He certainly made mine, and I left him feeling warmed inside.
Olivia Chow interview
Last night, I watched her on the giving the first personal interview since her husband passed away. Dressed in black, a mourning widow who had just lost her rock and soulmate, she was however elegant, composed and bravely answered questions.
Even the difficult ones. About Jack Layton's illness, final days, about what was most memorable in their marriage of over twenty-five years. At one point she shed a tear, and the sky too was crying. My heart ached and went out to her...
She talked about the cancer that took Jack's life, even though he fought so hard. She explained why she and the family didn't want to reveal what cancer he had or what treatment he underwent, despite the media's obsession and probing:
And reading a magazine article about Jack and Olivia Chow together brought me again to tears. A chance meeting, at a fundraiser... two people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, connecting so deeply on so many levels, sharing their passion of politics and community involvement together with their passion for life and one another... "It is a uniquely Canadian, multicultural, inclusive love story". As Jack himself once put it, "I fell in love with Olivia in four nano seconds [...] I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, but I was smitten from day one..."
How very beautiful, how very romantic....
Video tribute to Jack Layton from the Celebration of Life gathering at Roy Thomson Hall
Even the difficult ones. About Jack Layton's illness, final days, about what was most memorable in their marriage of over twenty-five years. At one point she shed a tear, and the sky too was crying. My heart ached and went out to her...
She talked about the cancer that took Jack's life, even though he fought so hard. She explained why she and the family didn't want to reveal what cancer he had or what treatment he underwent, despite the media's obsession and probing:
"For what purpose? We know what cancer do to people. The majority of people who have cancer are fine, are able to continue […] We all die one way or another. Let’s live in that moment of hope and optimism, the kind of love he talked about."
And reading a magazine article about Jack and Olivia Chow together brought me again to tears. A chance meeting, at a fundraiser... two people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, connecting so deeply on so many levels, sharing their passion of politics and community involvement together with their passion for life and one another... "It is a uniquely Canadian, multicultural, inclusive love story". As Jack himself once put it, "I fell in love with Olivia in four nano seconds [...] I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, but I was smitten from day one..."
How very beautiful, how very romantic....
Video tribute to Jack Layton from the Celebration of Life gathering at Roy Thomson Hall
Gifts
I got emotional when she mentioned what she had done. "There are two boxes... one for your colleagues at work, one for your friends. Please thank them again for taking care of you..." Doing so much, doing too much. For me...
Mum spent a whole afternoon going around town to buy pineapple cakes, a delicacy from Taiwan, and she just mailed them over. She went out of her way to go to a shop which sells the 'best' (award winning) pineapple cakes, and bought dozens of them. She was very happy with her purchase, and in the same box slipped in other things she wanted to give to me... tea, seaweed, and other tastes of home. I was extremely touched, and had to lie down. At one point maybe because of the tears, she asked me what was wrong. The love and care of a mother toward her child is immensely powerful. I felt it, just by her recounting what she had done and went through. Imagine when I receive the gift box...
I called her as promised... after that initial talk, there was something else on my mind. It is always awkward to ask and begin the conversation... "How was it today?"
She went in and spoke to her neurosurgeon. Whereas before, he recommended surgery as soon as possible, today he said perhaps it's best to wait until we cannot wait any longer. He is worried if he operates now, the tumour growing near the spine will, instead of being under removed and control, spread dramatically. At least for now, the situation is more or less stable. And it's best to keep it that way.
Mum says she has pains in her left arm. How much it affects her, how painful it is, I do not know. I cannot see her face when she groans in pain. I can no longer see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead when the pain comes and seizes her senses. She said she was drowsy and going to sleep soon. The doctor prescribed more painkillers, and she is taking them at regular intervals.
At one point during her appointment, the doctor asked whether she has anyone to take care of her at home. I know the answer to that, she knows the answer to that. If need be, she will hire someone to take care of her. "Please," mum said, "don't come rushing back again. I'll be fine."
I say that often sometimes, even when I'm not. It's not a lie, not really, especially expressed in the future tense, because one day, I will be fine. But of course it does not mean that "I am fine" at this very moment. But when all's said and done, this moment will disappear into the next, and whatever I am feeling, whatever is bothering me, will most likely also disappear.
"Don't base your treatments on me. If you need surgery, if it is urgent, do it. Don't stop your treatments because you are afraid I might come back again", I said.
I don't like to talk about her illness every time we talk, because I can only imagine how sensitive it is for her, and how after a long afternoon waiting at the hospital, she just wants to unwind and forget. But I want to know, I need to know. Because I care, I really do care. More than most other things...
Mum spent a whole afternoon going around town to buy pineapple cakes, a delicacy from Taiwan, and she just mailed them over. She went out of her way to go to a shop which sells the 'best' (award winning) pineapple cakes, and bought dozens of them. She was very happy with her purchase, and in the same box slipped in other things she wanted to give to me... tea, seaweed, and other tastes of home. I was extremely touched, and had to lie down. At one point maybe because of the tears, she asked me what was wrong. The love and care of a mother toward her child is immensely powerful. I felt it, just by her recounting what she had done and went through. Imagine when I receive the gift box...
I called her as promised... after that initial talk, there was something else on my mind. It is always awkward to ask and begin the conversation... "How was it today?"
She went in and spoke to her neurosurgeon. Whereas before, he recommended surgery as soon as possible, today he said perhaps it's best to wait until we cannot wait any longer. He is worried if he operates now, the tumour growing near the spine will, instead of being under removed and control, spread dramatically. At least for now, the situation is more or less stable. And it's best to keep it that way.
Mum says she has pains in her left arm. How much it affects her, how painful it is, I do not know. I cannot see her face when she groans in pain. I can no longer see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead when the pain comes and seizes her senses. She said she was drowsy and going to sleep soon. The doctor prescribed more painkillers, and she is taking them at regular intervals.
At one point during her appointment, the doctor asked whether she has anyone to take care of her at home. I know the answer to that, she knows the answer to that. If need be, she will hire someone to take care of her. "Please," mum said, "don't come rushing back again. I'll be fine."
I say that often sometimes, even when I'm not. It's not a lie, not really, especially expressed in the future tense, because one day, I will be fine. But of course it does not mean that "I am fine" at this very moment. But when all's said and done, this moment will disappear into the next, and whatever I am feeling, whatever is bothering me, will most likely also disappear.
"Don't base your treatments on me. If you need surgery, if it is urgent, do it. Don't stop your treatments because you are afraid I might come back again", I said.
I don't like to talk about her illness every time we talk, because I can only imagine how sensitive it is for her, and how after a long afternoon waiting at the hospital, she just wants to unwind and forget. But I want to know, I need to know. Because I care, I really do care. More than most other things...
05 September 2011
Appointments
"How do you know?" she asked.
Of course I know. I remember it, every detail when she tells me about her condition. I know and remember when she has to go into the hospital again for check up. I write it down in my agenda, and a reminded just before the day comes.
There's an appointment with the neurosurgeon today, and another with her main physician. She will get her results and a diagnosis. And then soon enough, a decision will be made. More painful, grueling treatments? More hospital visits? More waiting and waiting until no more? A life-threatening major surgery? Or just let things be... let the cancer grow and grow and spread until one day, until one moment her body or mind, whichever first, cannot take it anymore...? A decision will be made, and once more my life will most likely be influenced by it.
Mum told me not to worry or think too much. "Just focus on your work..."
Was it me or did she sound down? Did I hear hesitation and perhaps fear in her voice? I wished I could see her face when she spoke to me. I wish I could see the expression on her face. Her appointment is number 93 today, which means most likely she'll be waiting till the afternoon... waiting, waiting... waiting, waiting... sitting and being surrounded by other patients, by cancer survivors, by nurses and doctors rushing to and fro....
"Are you going to be alright?" I asked. What kind of question is that...? What weak attempt at showing care or compassion is that? What could I do if she were not alright? So very, very little...
I'll call again, I said.I'll call again in the morning (my time) to see how today went.
In the mean time, while I try to sleep, my thoughts and my warmest wishes are with mum far, far away...
Of course I know. I remember it, every detail when she tells me about her condition. I know and remember when she has to go into the hospital again for check up. I write it down in my agenda, and a reminded just before the day comes.
There's an appointment with the neurosurgeon today, and another with her main physician. She will get her results and a diagnosis. And then soon enough, a decision will be made. More painful, grueling treatments? More hospital visits? More waiting and waiting until no more? A life-threatening major surgery? Or just let things be... let the cancer grow and grow and spread until one day, until one moment her body or mind, whichever first, cannot take it anymore...? A decision will be made, and once more my life will most likely be influenced by it.
Mum told me not to worry or think too much. "Just focus on your work..."
Was it me or did she sound down? Did I hear hesitation and perhaps fear in her voice? I wished I could see her face when she spoke to me. I wish I could see the expression on her face. Her appointment is number 93 today, which means most likely she'll be waiting till the afternoon... waiting, waiting... waiting, waiting... sitting and being surrounded by other patients, by cancer survivors, by nurses and doctors rushing to and fro....
"Are you going to be alright?" I asked. What kind of question is that...? What weak attempt at showing care or compassion is that? What could I do if she were not alright? So very, very little...
I'll call again, I said.I'll call again in the morning (my time) to see how today went.
In the mean time, while I try to sleep, my thoughts and my warmest wishes are with mum far, far away...
Goodbyes
Our eyes were red and moist. There was a chill in the air, and I longed for his arms around him to keep me warm. Later when we hugged goodbye, he said my body was very warm.
We spent a couple of hours talking. Work we wanted to, but I for some reason needed, wanted to see him. Perhaps it was against my better judgement, and actually I didn't know why I wanted to see him. Maybe find that reassurance, or offer him reassurance, that despite all odds, despite all uncertainties, we can still talk, cry and laugh...
We spoke about goodbyes. Childhood goodbyes... how he always, since he was a kid, looks back when saying goodbye. I recounted the difficult, difficult and teary goodbyes, the many goodbyes I have had since my parents left me in Europe.
He cried as he listened to me recount vivid memories of my childhood. He cried because he loves me, he says. He cried also, at one point, because I said something that had been on my mind for so long but never had the courage to say... How I wish to find stability... how I sometimes wish mum would just pass away, quietly, peacefully, so I don't have to worry, so I don't have to always have the suitcase half prepared in the event that I need to buy a ticket and hop on a plane the next day. Such a terrible and selfish though that is... how can I even think of that at all? How can I place my own future and happiness before the wellbeing of my very mother who is unwell and afraid? I burst out in tears as I said those words... however much I want her to be around and to make the most of her life, sometimes I do think it would be easier if she just quietly left...
He cried because I cried. He cried because he cares so very much and wants to see me happy and have a stable life, without having to think of the next plane journey... But how can he feel so deeply for me, love me so much, when he wants to be with someone else? How can he say that we are so compatible in so many ways, and yet have doubts of us together? Deep down inside, he knows and he admits I am the 'best' person he has encountered. Yet how painful it is to hear that when he for some reason still clings on hope and feelings for another person... When I hear those things, when I hear him say "what if..." or "if only", I go quiet. It is all in the past now...
I'm not bitter and angry at him, but instinctively I want to stay away from him for my own benefit. When he asked me whether I still love him, I said at first, less and less... But truth be told, perhaps I am just convincing myself of that, telling myself that if I could say that, then I feel it too. But no, I still care about him, think about him, lie in bed missing him and his body next to mine... I wonder what he is worrying about, what is weighing him down, and what I could possibly do to take his burden and worries away so that he may smile that beautiful smile of his again. Truly, I think about him, care about him the way I care about my own mother, and nobody has able to make me feel that way, ever.
But perhaps that is the problem... We have become too close, to intertwined in one another's lives that it is hard to let go. I told him, again and again, I want to 'disappear', be on the margins, especially as his heart is set on being together with the other guy. I am ready, however difficult it may be, however irresistible the temptation is to go see him or want to talk to him, to slowly fade away from his life. Because that is the only way I can think of that will make him think of me less (and make me think less of him...) But he said he cannot stop caring, cannot stop loving... and he will never stop caring or loving me...
We hugged just before parting ways and exchanged silent goodbyes with shallow nods and deep gazes into one another's eyes. I walked away, slowly to my own desk on the third floor of the library.
And contrary to what I have always done, I did not look back... Consciously or not, I am not sure.
But look back I did not...
I heard
That your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things
I didn't give to you
Old friend
Why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back
Or hide from the light
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over
Love drug
This friend I met recently told me that love is like a drug. It induces chemical reactions that make you addicted and yearning for more. It's more than just a feeling, an emotion, but when you're lacking it, changes in your brain and body actually occur that make you experience a "low"... You become agitated, impatient, and look for ways to satisfy your needs and desires.
The point is, after a breakup and you're still hanging around the ex, the same sense of familiarity and comfort and all that is related to what we call 'love' is triggered. But it's not healthy. Imagine an addict trying to wane off a drug, and then being exposed to it now and then. How is he going to recover if the addictive substance is dangled in front of his face from time to time? The recovery and rehab will no doubt be more painful, and take much longer.
So cut the source of the addiction. At least for a while.
But I do miss him deeply... his presence as a rock in my life, as the source warmth and light that keeps me safe at night. If anything, he is the best friend I have ever had. And how do I let go of that so easily?
The point is, after a breakup and you're still hanging around the ex, the same sense of familiarity and comfort and all that is related to what we call 'love' is triggered. But it's not healthy. Imagine an addict trying to wane off a drug, and then being exposed to it now and then. How is he going to recover if the addictive substance is dangled in front of his face from time to time? The recovery and rehab will no doubt be more painful, and take much longer.
So cut the source of the addiction. At least for a while.
But I do miss him deeply... his presence as a rock in my life, as the source warmth and light that keeps me safe at night. If anything, he is the best friend I have ever had. And how do I let go of that so easily?
Retreat
Who would have thought that as I was sitting in that library and missing what we had together earlier tonight, my ex was spending time with the guy he is so infatuated with...? And how very bizarre that I had a nightmare about this very thing happening the night before...?
How painful it is to find out about that...
My head hurts terribly, and I cannot sleep... I lie awake so hurt, so hurt, so disturbed...
Time to enter a new era of isolation and retreat.
How painful it is to find out about that...
My head hurts terribly, and I cannot sleep... I lie awake so hurt, so hurt, so disturbed...
Time to enter a new era of isolation and retreat.
04 September 2011
Longings
Sometimes the longing is so strong it is difficult to overcome... I know if I just close my eyes and meditate, the feelings, the urges will go away. Since I have met my friend and till recently, the desire for physical and emotional contact has been more than fully satisfied. And now, after promising to myself and to him to keep some distance, I find myself wanting, and feeling empty without... I know if I want to talk, if I want a hug, he is just a phone call or a text away.
But I cannot do that, I cannot keep on running to him, especially as he is trying to forget about me, trying to move on and pursue the boy he feels so deeply for. And I cannot keep on running toward him in search of comfort and assurance when I am trying to build a life without him being there all the time when I need someone to hold and to listen to me.
I have to admit, there is an emptiness inside that is eating me, even as I sit here in the empty library on a rainy Sunday evening... I long for that intimacy again, that human contact, that human feel and warmth, that connection which makes me feel whole, even if only temporarily. And I'm so scared of going out there, just hooking up and descending into a world where I seek out people just for pleasure. Because I know I am not like that. Because I know I deserve and want so much more than just the physical...
If I close my eyes, meditate for a while, the urges, the feelings, the longings will go away.
I must tell myself that, and resist...
But I cannot do that, I cannot keep on running to him, especially as he is trying to forget about me, trying to move on and pursue the boy he feels so deeply for. And I cannot keep on running toward him in search of comfort and assurance when I am trying to build a life without him being there all the time when I need someone to hold and to listen to me.
I have to admit, there is an emptiness inside that is eating me, even as I sit here in the empty library on a rainy Sunday evening... I long for that intimacy again, that human contact, that human feel and warmth, that connection which makes me feel whole, even if only temporarily. And I'm so scared of going out there, just hooking up and descending into a world where I seek out people just for pleasure. Because I know I am not like that. Because I know I deserve and want so much more than just the physical...
If I close my eyes, meditate for a while, the urges, the feelings, the longings will go away.
I must tell myself that, and resist...
Surprise
Out of nowhere I received an email asking me to go.
I gladly accepted, and will leave in about two weeks' time.
I will not tell any one until the day before I leave. And then I will just leave. No looking back, no regrets. And I will be away for some time.
There is a part of me that is hesitant, as the timing is difficult, especially with equivalency exams I had registered for at the beginning of October. Hesitant too because I am afraid of what I may be coming back to when I eventually return. But life continues, even when you hide yourself in the seclusion of somewhere, life continues. And I will just have to deal with things when I eventually return.
But now is a better time than ever to go away, to get away from things here. I need the time alone, to reflect, to escape and to realise myself rediscover what is more important in life...
I gladly accepted, and will leave in about two weeks' time.
I will not tell any one until the day before I leave. And then I will just leave. No looking back, no regrets. And I will be away for some time.
There is a part of me that is hesitant, as the timing is difficult, especially with equivalency exams I had registered for at the beginning of October. Hesitant too because I am afraid of what I may be coming back to when I eventually return. But life continues, even when you hide yourself in the seclusion of somewhere, life continues. And I will just have to deal with things when I eventually return.
But now is a better time than ever to go away, to get away from things here. I need the time alone, to reflect, to escape and to realise myself rediscover what is more important in life...
Change
The days roll by, one after another, and it is suddenly already September. The summer is officially over.
Went on a walk with friends yesterday, and I noticed a change. Most trees had green, thick foliage still, but bits of the forest was changing in colour. Ever so slightly, and perhaps unnoticeable to most people, especially under the blaring sun. But there were hints of red and yellow, forespelling the arrival of another season...
I look forward to cooler temperatures, to the changing of the coats, to the colours that will brighten up the world a little more. Change is a good thing, as it shows life is moving forward and onward...
Went on a walk with friends yesterday, and I noticed a change. Most trees had green, thick foliage still, but bits of the forest was changing in colour. Ever so slightly, and perhaps unnoticeable to most people, especially under the blaring sun. But there were hints of red and yellow, forespelling the arrival of another season...
I look forward to cooler temperatures, to the changing of the coats, to the colours that will brighten up the world a little more. Change is a good thing, as it shows life is moving forward and onward...
Restless night
I went to sleep soon after coming home.
I remember waking up often, my head disturbed by strange dreams and images.
Strange, because it was of this person I've never met before--- the person my ex is so infatuated with. Why was I dreaming of him? I don't fully recall shat happened in the dream, just that he was there and it caused some discomfort... I think my ex and he were in the same room, but I'm not sure what they were doing. They were just both in my dream.
What's happening between him and my ex, I'm not sure, and I'm afraid to ask too. They were supposed to go away this weekend, on a trip that's supposed to make clear what their relationship is. But it got cancelled.
I'm not sure what to make of this all, as whenever he mentions the other person or is tapping away on the phone with him, i get apprehensive and wonder what I'm still doing hanging around my ex so much...
I remember waking up often, my head disturbed by strange dreams and images.
Strange, because it was of this person I've never met before--- the person my ex is so infatuated with. Why was I dreaming of him? I don't fully recall shat happened in the dream, just that he was there and it caused some discomfort... I think my ex and he were in the same room, but I'm not sure what they were doing. They were just both in my dream.
What's happening between him and my ex, I'm not sure, and I'm afraid to ask too. They were supposed to go away this weekend, on a trip that's supposed to make clear what their relationship is. But it got cancelled.
I'm not sure what to make of this all, as whenever he mentions the other person or is tapping away on the phone with him, i get apprehensive and wonder what I'm still doing hanging around my ex so much...
Quiet
I woke up after a few hours of disturbed sleep, and took myself to the library in an attempt to get some work done. There is little progress, but at least there is progress. Every word, every sentence one step closer to the end of this long and seemingly endless journey to finish my thesis, finish something I began two years ago, but only made halting progress.
In the evening, I got together with friends I had not seen for a while. It feels like forever, especially as a friend was away for a number of weeks. I missed the evenings chatting away and laughing, sharing our lives over drinks and bags of chips when we would ask one another about going-ons in our lives.
"How is your mother?" I froze, and went quiet. I stared into the distance, eyes watering, knowing full well what had been asked but not knowing what I should reply. Do I lie or do I just answer with a simple "alright" and let the difficult, difficult question pass? My eyes became a little moist and I looked away. My friends understood from my silence that something was not well. They extended their toes to touch me, to comfort me. I withdraw and went quiet. The quiet, the silence, not having to think about things, not having to talk about things do not make things go away. They do make things disappear from my mind temporarily so I can fill my mind with distractions and make myself believe that things are alright.
A friend asked about plans in the coming period, whether my mum is going to go visit the baby in Europe. There is an open ticket for her return, but who knows whether she can make the trip... who knows what treatments she may have to undergo... who knows what her health or condition will be tomorrow, next week, let alone next month or next year?
I changed the subject, smiled, and let the topic drop. My ex offered to talk and spend the night together. But I was not in the mood, and quietly left...
03 September 2011
First step to becoming a lawyer
I started studying, the first time in a long, long time. Studying for an exam I'm going to sit in a little over three weeks' time. It'll be my first exam in Canadian law, and it'll mark the beginning of getting qualified to practice law in Canada.
I want to qualify as a lawyer. It is a promise to myself, and a promise to my parents (yes, to mum, and dad too) that I will one day become a lawyer. I don't need to be a big-shot corporate lawyer. I want to work with the law to help people, to make a little difference in this world. Even if that difference is in the world of one person, that is enough. That is my ambition. That is my dream. That is what I will achieve one day, I know it.
I've been just reading the recommended text books for the last two days. A slow start, reading and taking notes, and progressing at twenty pages or less an hour. The five hundred or so pages will take me a long while to cover, and this will be the start of perhaps days and nights of studying in the period to come.
I'm not really sure what to except, but there are reading lists and core readings that have to be covered. This is the first time I'm going to sit an exam where I'm preparing by my self, and will not have attended any classes. I'm not too sure whether that will hurt or benefit me, but at least all that I need is to get enough score for a "pass" (it's either a pass or fail, doesn't matter what score).
I'm wishing myself good luck... I may just need it.
I want to qualify as a lawyer. It is a promise to myself, and a promise to my parents (yes, to mum, and dad too) that I will one day become a lawyer. I don't need to be a big-shot corporate lawyer. I want to work with the law to help people, to make a little difference in this world. Even if that difference is in the world of one person, that is enough. That is my ambition. That is my dream. That is what I will achieve one day, I know it.
I've been just reading the recommended text books for the last two days. A slow start, reading and taking notes, and progressing at twenty pages or less an hour. The five hundred or so pages will take me a long while to cover, and this will be the start of perhaps days and nights of studying in the period to come.
I'm not really sure what to except, but there are reading lists and core readings that have to be covered. This is the first time I'm going to sit an exam where I'm preparing by my self, and will not have attended any classes. I'm not too sure whether that will hurt or benefit me, but at least all that I need is to get enough score for a "pass" (it's either a pass or fail, doesn't matter what score).
I'm wishing myself good luck... I may just need it.
First day
I called brother and finally managed to reach him. It was a smooth birth, from labour to my nephew entering the world took around two hours or so. All very quickly, he said, and he was there to greet the little life with his own hands. "Very touching", he said. I listened and imagined the scene, the beautiful scene...
All vital signs are normal, ten little fingers, ten little toes, weighing at some 2950grams, which as I suspected from seeing pictures, is a little on the low side. But the child is healthy, and the mother is relatively well too, despite obviously being exhausted from the labour pains and giving birth.
My brother said the baby and mother are home now, discharged after just a day. He tried to change the diapers, and apparently my nephew's pee sprayed all over the freshly painted wall. My brother wasn't upset, as he normally would be, but found it amusing. And I reminded him of a story mum once recounted when my brother peed all over my mum's (or was it my dad's...?) face just a few days after he was born.
From the conversation, I could hear the excitement , but also a little fatigue, in brother's voice. He said he did not sleep much over the past two days, especially since the baby got home, as they are still adjusting to his cries at night and waking up at random hours. "It's always hard in the beginning," I said, but eventually they'll get used to it.
More and more, I am tempted to hop on a plane and fly to Europe to visit them, and to take this little being in my own arms....
02 September 2011
Moving show
The last time I saw the Lion King was in London, in the Summer of 2002. It was actually with my ex, ironically a few days after we broke up. It was a bit awkward, and we went to the show as planned. In the end, it was an amazing performance, my first musical experience, and brought to live an all time favourite Disney movie, many songs ad rhythms of which I knew by heart from hours and hours of playing and replaying the cassette I once owned.
I went again, with two friends (one of whom is, ironically, now also an ex), tonight. I looked forward to the performance, and though it was good, perhaps the setting and small stage did not really do the spectacle much justice. Even so, a number of the songs made me tear, and at moments uncontrollably.
Other than the classic Circle of Life, there was this one, sung to Simba by his dad, just before he passes away, and sung again when Simba regains his pride and decides to return to the life and fate he had tried to run away from.
The lyrics spoke to me, and caused the tears to flow...
Touched I was, deep down and the longings for dad resurfaced. I wiped away the tears, embarassed and unsure while I was even crying. Perhaps my friend, who sat behind me noticed, and I felt a few strokes of his hand on my back.
I thought of images of my nephew my brother had sent me... The circle of life indeed... we loose someone, but somewhere down the line, another blessing is added to our dull grey lives. This is the circle of life, birth and death, happiness and sorrow, loss and gain all repeating and counterweighing one another in a miraculous and mysterious way that makes the world turn around and keep on turning.
"In your reflection... he lives in you..."
Though sad, there is a source of strength to be found in that sentence.
I went again, with two friends (one of whom is, ironically, now also an ex), tonight. I looked forward to the performance, and though it was good, perhaps the setting and small stage did not really do the spectacle much justice. Even so, a number of the songs made me tear, and at moments uncontrollably.
Other than the classic Circle of Life, there was this one, sung to Simba by his dad, just before he passes away, and sung again when Simba regains his pride and decides to return to the life and fate he had tried to run away from.
The lyrics spoke to me, and caused the tears to flow...
Touched I was, deep down and the longings for dad resurfaced. I wiped away the tears, embarassed and unsure while I was even crying. Perhaps my friend, who sat behind me noticed, and I felt a few strokes of his hand on my back.
I thought of images of my nephew my brother had sent me... The circle of life indeed... we loose someone, but somewhere down the line, another blessing is added to our dull grey lives. This is the circle of life, birth and death, happiness and sorrow, loss and gain all repeating and counterweighing one another in a miraculous and mysterious way that makes the world turn around and keep on turning.
"In your reflection... he lives in you..."
Though sad, there is a source of strength to be found in that sentence.
01 September 2011
Baby boy
I saw the pictures and almost instantly began to tear... a beautiful baby boy was born today an hour or so ago, in the Netherlands, at Bronovo hospital right next to the home I grew up in.
Mum and I have been expecting him ever since we first heard about him some seven months ago. The moment has finally come, a week or so overdue, but never too late to bring much joy and excitement into our lives.
Big eyes, sweet face and cheeks, a head of hair, pale skinned, tiny little arms and legs...
I've not managed to reach my brother and don't know much details (I don't even know what he is called...), but the baby and mother seem to look alright. I do hope so, and the coming few hours and days will be critical, and I am thinking of them fondly and sending them my wellwishes....
Another addition to my family, and I can hardly contain my tears of happiness. It is so beautiful, so miraculous, so soon, so very, very touching... Why am I crying? Is it because this outweighs much of the pain and difficulties my family has faced over the past couple of years? Is it because I am now officially an uncle, and can't wait to shower the child with all my love and all the most wonderful gifts I could imagine getting him? Or is it because deep down, I too would like a child, to hold, to cherish, to love and to protect and guide as s/he grows up...?
It doesn't matter why. What matters is that the child is healthy, and that he will cement the loving relationship between my sister-in-law and my brother. What matters is that he will undoubtedly make their lives richer and complete with his cries, his smiles, his first little step, his first little word... What matters is that he will make our family, so spread out around the world, stronger and have more reason to be and get together...
I wonder if mum already knows about the wonderful news, as it's the middle of the night in Taiwan. I sent her a text message, jokingly congratulating her on becoming a grandma. I hope this news will bring her much, much joy and a grand reason to continue living life to the fullest, for she needs all the happiness and positiveness in the unsettling period to come...
And dad... this is what you have so often wanted, so often thought and talked about before. Though you are not here to witness the baby's birth into this world, though you cannot hold him close and listen to his chuckle, a part of you lives on in him...
From deep down inside, from my little heart, from across the Atlantic, I wish the baby much strength, love and good health as he takes his first breaths of air...
I wish him much wisdom, kindness and compassion as he grows and learns the ways of the world...
I wish him much happiness, innocence and beauty, and hope that he will always be true to himself and to others around him. And I wish my sister-in-law and my brother much patience and wisdom as they begin their parenthood, and hope they will forever to provide the child with warmth, affection, and invaluable lessons to prepare him for the big wide world.
Happy birthday, my dear little nephew... happy birthday!
31 August 2011
Pictures
One minute we were smiling, reminiscing as we looked at pictures from the past. The next my friend pulled away and stood with his arms folded looking vulnerable. His eyes became moist and red.
He rarely cries. "Stiff upper lip", as they call it, and Brits do it best. But his lips were wavering, and the tears were close to trickling down his eyes. I wanted to go and hold him... but I froze and felt uncomfortable.
What we had just seen and what had touched us all was the picture of a Valentine's bear he had sent me back in February this year. We had just become an item, and he put a lot of thought and effort into sending me a package stuffed with hearts and chocolates and lovely greeting cards. I was away at the time, accompanying mum through her treatments back then, and needed the support. I always burst into tears when I opened the package... tears of joy, tears of sadness and longing. Never before have I reiceved something so special, so thoughtful. Even more so because after all this time, we were finally together. Even though we were not together, I was his, and he was mine.
What made my ex tear? It is all over... all of that is over, and was ever so fragile to begin with. Behind the hearts, the cards, there were already the elements that would eventually lead to our break up. We had it all, or so it seemed, but even then, little did I know, he was torn and distracted by his feelings for someone else.
Perhaps it was that realisation... that it was so beautiful, it was all so wonderful, that we were both so happy together but can no longer be is painful to bear. Perhaps that is what made him tear? Perhaps that is what made me so numb, so numb... When you are numb you do not feel hurt, you do not feel at all.
I try not to think back. I try not to picture in details or imagine the words that were said or places we have been. Because it is difficult to reconcile the fact that from one moment to the next everything could break down. So fragile was our relationship, so fragile is life.
Ironically, when I was away, I sent him a porcelain doll-- one of a pair that was given to me by my brother and his wife at their wedding. I wanted my ex to hold on to and keep the doll safe until my return, until when the two porcelain dolls are reunited again. A very touching, symbolic and intimate gesture that was. He did receive the package, but accidentally the doll fell and broke into many, irreparable pieces. He immediately wrote to me to apologise, to tell me how terrible he felt... I said it was not a problem, because it is just a symbol, and not the real thing. Who knew... who knew at the time...
It took a little while for me to collect myself. And then I wrote him a little note, for old time's sake: let's not look at the past and cry, but smile.
And I do hope we can do that...
30 August 2011
When that day comes...
"...if you get married in the future," mum said, "I've left [...] in the safety deposit. And there are some gold minted Canadian coins dad left behind. That is also for you too..." For several minutes told me about arrangements she had made. Just in case... when that day comes...
I struggled hard to contain myself. I said very little. I heard mum speak, but I was not really listening. Why is it so difficult, so painful to listen...? If I should get married... when will that day be? Will she be there to see me exchange vows with the person of my dreams, the person of my life, the one true love...?
"I can't be completely equal, but I've tried my best," she said, alluding to the fact that brother has received much more than she feels she is able to give me. He's bought a car, a house, had a big wedding... much of it "sponsored" by savings from our parents. And recently because of the impending birth of his son, brother also received dad's life savings. It was dad's wish that he would get it and that the fund would go towards the child's "education fund".
"Please, use what little I'm going to leave as your start up capital for when you buy your first home..." She did not sound sad, nor did her voice waver. In fact, she sounded clear minded. Her voice was the voice of a mother who cares so much about her child that she wants to make sure she does everything in her power while she is around for the child to be safe and secure... "Be careful with the money, and remember how thrifty dad was when he was still here..."
I grunted in acknowledgement, because if I had to speak, I would betray the tears.
Deep down, I did not, could not care about the money or how fair it should all it. I should, and I am perhaps too foolish not to care, but if this is causing mum grief and worry, I could really care less. In her current state of health, in her current stage of life, inheritance or how equal it should be divided, should be the last thing she should be thinking about.
In the end all I could muster were the weak words "Thank you..."
"I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel..."
Time alone...
My friend called me, and sensed something is wrong.
I have so much trouble hiding my emotions. In fact, tears are coming out now as I type. I have so much trouble hiding my emotions, most of all from him. He had a lovely evening planned with friends and asked me to join. I said I'm not in the mood, and he knew something was bothering me. He said he'll go out and then come by my place later.
But I don't want him to be there. I don't want support, I don't want comfort, at least not from him. I cannot go on and on being dependent on him. That is part of the problem, and part of why I'm crying... I know he cares deeply, and he has ever since we met. But he cannot continue caring so much, caring so much in a way that so difficult for me to accept. I can only accept this kind of compassion, care, and dare I even say love, from a lover... not from someone who is just a friend, however special he may be. It is just the way my mind works... It's my own problem, my own inability to accept a love greater than anything else that transcends being in a relationship. Simply, I cannot deal with this level of care and love from someone I am trying to get over, and from someone who is trying to get over me. That's why I withdraw, that's why I am trying to shun his care and his feelings.... maybe one day he will just stop trying, maybe one day he will stop caring so much, and can focus his energies and love on that one special person in his life.
I told him I really need my time alone, and that I want to be alone. I need to tell myself and know myself that I can deal with things no matter what and not be so dependent and reliant on one person, any one person-- least of all on him.
Part of shutting down, shutting away and turning inward is trying to find myself, trying to rediscover that inner strength and tolerance that has kept me going for so long. And I need, for my own sake, for my friend's sake, to know and prove to myself I can be fine and stand up strong by myself, however averse the circumstances.
I have so much trouble hiding my emotions. In fact, tears are coming out now as I type. I have so much trouble hiding my emotions, most of all from him. He had a lovely evening planned with friends and asked me to join. I said I'm not in the mood, and he knew something was bothering me. He said he'll go out and then come by my place later.
But I don't want him to be there. I don't want support, I don't want comfort, at least not from him. I cannot go on and on being dependent on him. That is part of the problem, and part of why I'm crying... I know he cares deeply, and he has ever since we met. But he cannot continue caring so much, caring so much in a way that so difficult for me to accept. I can only accept this kind of compassion, care, and dare I even say love, from a lover... not from someone who is just a friend, however special he may be. It is just the way my mind works... It's my own problem, my own inability to accept a love greater than anything else that transcends being in a relationship. Simply, I cannot deal with this level of care and love from someone I am trying to get over, and from someone who is trying to get over me. That's why I withdraw, that's why I am trying to shun his care and his feelings.... maybe one day he will just stop trying, maybe one day he will stop caring so much, and can focus his energies and love on that one special person in his life.
I told him I really need my time alone, and that I want to be alone. I need to tell myself and know myself that I can deal with things no matter what and not be so dependent and reliant on one person, any one person-- least of all on him.
Part of shutting down, shutting away and turning inward is trying to find myself, trying to rediscover that inner strength and tolerance that has kept me going for so long. And I need, for my own sake, for my friend's sake, to know and prove to myself I can be fine and stand up strong by myself, however averse the circumstances.
In flux
Mum was avoiding the topic, but so was I. Just small talk... What have you been up to, what did you just eat for dinner... I told her I've been busy with my thesis and was about to go to tennis lessons.
Then I asked. Faced the facts as difficult as it may be. "How was the scan today?"
She was hesitant to talk about it. "Fine..." as usual, a lot of waiting and a whole afternoon gone. They inject you with trace amounts of a fluid radioactive marker that reveals "problem" areas better in order to make a better diagnosis.
Results due next Friday.
The doctor said they'll wait and see. But chemo is not ruled out. "Please don't rush home again. Focus on your work..." she told
me.
Inside, my heart sunk to another depth. I made my way yo tennis, my last lesson with this great coach I've had for over a month. For a while, while I was playing, I could distract myself.
But now the worries, the concerns are flooding back. Dates, plans, deadlines are spinning in my head, changing, in an unstable and uncertain flux...
I am again so torn, so weighed down by the latest news... And now it's different because I have to bear through this alone, can no longer rely on the support of my ex.
But life must go on somehow. It must go on somehow.
Then I asked. Faced the facts as difficult as it may be. "How was the scan today?"
She was hesitant to talk about it. "Fine..." as usual, a lot of waiting and a whole afternoon gone. They inject you with trace amounts of a fluid radioactive marker that reveals "problem" areas better in order to make a better diagnosis.
Results due next Friday.
The doctor said they'll wait and see. But chemo is not ruled out. "Please don't rush home again. Focus on your work..." she told
me.
Inside, my heart sunk to another depth. I made my way yo tennis, my last lesson with this great coach I've had for over a month. For a while, while I was playing, I could distract myself.
But now the worries, the concerns are flooding back. Dates, plans, deadlines are spinning in my head, changing, in an unstable and uncertain flux...
I am again so torn, so weighed down by the latest news... And now it's different because I have to bear through this alone, can no longer rely on the support of my ex.
But life must go on somehow. It must go on somehow.
29 August 2011
Changing expectations
At the end of the day, when all is done, when all has been said, there is only so much left.
And then you realise, whatever was there has changed, and the expectations must change with it.
And you are left to evaluate your relationship, your friendship together. Are we really so great together, so compatible, in whatever capacity, whether as friends or lovers? Or have I (have we?) been just too comfortable with what we know, because we do not know any better?
I would like to think we have been really wonderful together, and that we can still be very close, very intimate (in whatever capacity). I would like to believe and know that we mean a lot to one another, and that even little conflicts and tensions cannot sour that special bond.
But some events over the past two days, outbursts of temper and frictions between us, make me think twice. At times, I'm so lost as to what I did or said to provoke my friend that he can just suddenly raise his voice at me or lose patience. Yes, I am indecisive, yes, I can be stubborn and want to do things in a certain way... but I never (or rarely) mean to provoke, let alone try to antagonise someone.
And when someone raises his voice, or tells me he has lost patience with me, I freeze, I withdraw. It's not healthy, I know, for how am I supposed to deal with people out in the "real world" when I start to work or get into society? But, it reminds me of how I grew up being shouted at and having to put up with almost daily swearing and oral abuse. And it shocks me into freezing up, shutting down. It's a natural instinct, at least to me... an instinct of self-preservation and protection. I lose the will to defend myself, to want to explain, to respond. Instead I turn away.
And I feel myself doing that now...
And then you realise, whatever was there has changed, and the expectations must change with it.
And you are left to evaluate your relationship, your friendship together. Are we really so great together, so compatible, in whatever capacity, whether as friends or lovers? Or have I (have we?) been just too comfortable with what we know, because we do not know any better?
I would like to think we have been really wonderful together, and that we can still be very close, very intimate (in whatever capacity). I would like to believe and know that we mean a lot to one another, and that even little conflicts and tensions cannot sour that special bond.
But some events over the past two days, outbursts of temper and frictions between us, make me think twice. At times, I'm so lost as to what I did or said to provoke my friend that he can just suddenly raise his voice at me or lose patience. Yes, I am indecisive, yes, I can be stubborn and want to do things in a certain way... but I never (or rarely) mean to provoke, let alone try to antagonise someone.
And when someone raises his voice, or tells me he has lost patience with me, I freeze, I withdraw. It's not healthy, I know, for how am I supposed to deal with people out in the "real world" when I start to work or get into society? But, it reminds me of how I grew up being shouted at and having to put up with almost daily swearing and oral abuse. And it shocks me into freezing up, shutting down. It's a natural instinct, at least to me... an instinct of self-preservation and protection. I lose the will to defend myself, to want to explain, to respond. Instead I turn away.
And I feel myself doing that now...
28 August 2011
Little notes
It's been a week or more since I last went to his apartment. I walked into it slowly, almost cautiously and looked around. It was cleaner, more organised than before. I looked around some more, and noticed that some things are missing.
In the last few months, or over the course of us knowing one another, I have this habit of leaving little notes behind. Often marked with a smiley, or signed with the cute and familiar name that my parents have called me since I was little. Little notes that say "Be happy!" or "Thank you for the dinner and wonderful night together"... Little pieces of paper that say and show that I care, and that say how very much I appreciate his love and care. little pieces of paper that I hope can touch his heart and make him smile and smile.
They have all gone now. I looked around, and nothing is left behind, swept up and gathered into a drawer, hidden from sight. I know I told him one day, soon after we broke up to clean up and said that it may help him move on and get past me. Even in my own house I did that, and gathered pieces of notes and cards I had written to him and he had left behind. But seeing it happen at his place feels strange, and his apartment is no longer the same. It's another sign that I dont mean the same to him, and can no longer play that role I used to play.
I remember when he broke up with his ex that there were still so many mementos and pics of his ex lying around, even months after their break up. I even went to help him do that one day, because he was crying and had difficulty taking things and putting them away...
Of course that was a four year relationship. But with me, it seemed like it was quicker and easier to clean away little things, little marks I had left behind. If it's any consolation, he did tell me the other day that he cried and cried as he was cleaning his apartment and as he came across all those notes and cards I wrote. Nobody has cared for him, supported him, stood by him like I have, he said. But it is just confusing and frustrating that the circumstances are such we can no longer be together...
Maybe that's not fair of me to conclude, but seeing the apartment again looks and feels so foreign and distant. It's no longer the same place I've found to be welcoming and familiar.
That night, though we went out with common friends and stayed out till late, I took the metro home. In the past I most likely would have stayed over at his place, but it just felt strange now, even though my heart wanted to follow him home and sleep next to him like before.
But things have changed, and ad cruel or difficult and painful as it may be, so too the heart must change.
In the last few months, or over the course of us knowing one another, I have this habit of leaving little notes behind. Often marked with a smiley, or signed with the cute and familiar name that my parents have called me since I was little. Little notes that say "Be happy!" or "Thank you for the dinner and wonderful night together"... Little pieces of paper that say and show that I care, and that say how very much I appreciate his love and care. little pieces of paper that I hope can touch his heart and make him smile and smile.
They have all gone now. I looked around, and nothing is left behind, swept up and gathered into a drawer, hidden from sight. I know I told him one day, soon after we broke up to clean up and said that it may help him move on and get past me. Even in my own house I did that, and gathered pieces of notes and cards I had written to him and he had left behind. But seeing it happen at his place feels strange, and his apartment is no longer the same. It's another sign that I dont mean the same to him, and can no longer play that role I used to play.
I remember when he broke up with his ex that there were still so many mementos and pics of his ex lying around, even months after their break up. I even went to help him do that one day, because he was crying and had difficulty taking things and putting them away...
Of course that was a four year relationship. But with me, it seemed like it was quicker and easier to clean away little things, little marks I had left behind. If it's any consolation, he did tell me the other day that he cried and cried as he was cleaning his apartment and as he came across all those notes and cards I wrote. Nobody has cared for him, supported him, stood by him like I have, he said. But it is just confusing and frustrating that the circumstances are such we can no longer be together...
Maybe that's not fair of me to conclude, but seeing the apartment again looks and feels so foreign and distant. It's no longer the same place I've found to be welcoming and familiar.
That night, though we went out with common friends and stayed out till late, I took the metro home. In the past I most likely would have stayed over at his place, but it just felt strange now, even though my heart wanted to follow him home and sleep next to him like before.
But things have changed, and ad cruel or difficult and painful as it may be, so too the heart must change.
27 August 2011
Eulogy for Jack
The emotional down I experienced earlier today came pouring out again as I watched this eulogy from the children of Jack Layton to remember a simple man I never personally knew, who stood "for a world that would be more just, that would be more civil"...
Such heart-felt words and emotions in remembrance of a loving, caring dad who despite being famous and busy, made time for his children and grandchildren. That is just beautiful and extremely touching.
The children seem so composed, so together, and even made jokes and fun of their late dad... But behind the brave smiles, the red eyes, must lie a level of loss and hurt that is immeasurable and so very difficult to overcome..
Hallelujah
"I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"
Such heart-felt words and emotions in remembrance of a loving, caring dad who despite being famous and busy, made time for his children and grandchildren. That is just beautiful and extremely touching.
The children seem so composed, so together, and even made jokes and fun of their late dad... But behind the brave smiles, the red eyes, must lie a level of loss and hurt that is immeasurable and so very difficult to overcome..
Hallelujah
"I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"
Why...?
Crying alone at the office. Nobody can see these tears... nobody can hear my howls and my sobbing...
For a moment, I feel so alone in the world, and the pain is unbearable, inconsolable.
The last half an hour or so I have been listening to my brother venting about mum and her behaviour while she was in Europe recently. He looked so upset, criticising mum in long tirade. She was never home, he complained, she was being difficult when it comes to cooking and eating, she just disappeared and hardly interacted with them. She was unfair and difficult to please. Whatever was done was not good enough or did not satisfy her...
I was quiet, and only tried to tell him that it is all in the past. "Please don't think about it too much, don't get upset. It is all a misunderstanding..." I told him mum is not well, and went into how she may need surgery, because none of the treatments she has been receiving has worked to reduce her tumour. I told him to try to imagine her fears, her feelings of being confronted with loneliness and illness, and death. "Just try imagine what she is going through... Try," I said.
When the conversation ended, I burst out in tears.
I could not control myself.
Why....?
Why so much anger?
Why so much misunderstanding?
As painful and sad as it is, I could feel the bitterness, the strong resentment towards mum. I know mum can be difficult, but she is not well, she is our mother. Of course she can be wrong, of course she can do wrong and say the wrong things, and I am not trying to defend her or what happened, because I don't know exactly what happened. But it hurts to see brother's anger and lack of compassion or understanding for her condition and her health.
I am crying still... there is such pain inside I am not sure how to express them. My first instinct is to call my friend, to talk, to cry. But I can't do that any more. I can't always keep on running to him in times of need. We are past that. I need some other way of venting, of letting go of my frustrations.
And now, crying, and writing, is the only way I know how...
For a moment, I feel so alone in the world, and the pain is unbearable, inconsolable.
The last half an hour or so I have been listening to my brother venting about mum and her behaviour while she was in Europe recently. He looked so upset, criticising mum in long tirade. She was never home, he complained, she was being difficult when it comes to cooking and eating, she just disappeared and hardly interacted with them. She was unfair and difficult to please. Whatever was done was not good enough or did not satisfy her...
I was quiet, and only tried to tell him that it is all in the past. "Please don't think about it too much, don't get upset. It is all a misunderstanding..." I told him mum is not well, and went into how she may need surgery, because none of the treatments she has been receiving has worked to reduce her tumour. I told him to try to imagine her fears, her feelings of being confronted with loneliness and illness, and death. "Just try imagine what she is going through... Try," I said.
When the conversation ended, I burst out in tears.
I could not control myself.
Why....?
Why so much anger?
Why so much misunderstanding?
As painful and sad as it is, I could feel the bitterness, the strong resentment towards mum. I know mum can be difficult, but she is not well, she is our mother. Of course she can be wrong, of course she can do wrong and say the wrong things, and I am not trying to defend her or what happened, because I don't know exactly what happened. But it hurts to see brother's anger and lack of compassion or understanding for her condition and her health.
I am crying still... there is such pain inside I am not sure how to express them. My first instinct is to call my friend, to talk, to cry. But I can't do that any more. I can't always keep on running to him in times of need. We are past that. I need some other way of venting, of letting go of my frustrations.
And now, crying, and writing, is the only way I know how...
26 August 2011
The morning after
I tried to pull away, to distance myself when he probed into my life, probed onto my mum's condition. I felt so uncomfortable sharing intimate details and my problems with him now.
I know he cares about me deeply, as he always has. It's a care that his love and our short lived relationship. But something inside just told me to withdraw, to back off and to erect barriers. I don't want him to be so concerned about me anymore. How is he supposed to move on and be with someone else, which is what he'd like, when he is so concerned about my life and wellbeing? How am I supposed to move on and let him go when I can't stand up ad deal with my own problems myself?
He started to tear when I slowly, but not in too much detail revealed mum's state of health. I was numb, not sad, not upset, and kept on saying to him I'm fine, I'll be fine. But for some reason he cried...
Was it for me, or for the fact that I was pushing him away after our intimate love making the night before?
We talked more in bed, a comfortable yet dangerous place, for it soon drew us in to yet another indulgence of our bodies and our (overly high?) sex drives.
The questions, doubts and discomfort of being around him are still there. I don't know how he feels about it, but as much as I'd like to be close to him, I also want to get away, to get some distance- which proves difficult when we sleep next to each other.
The rest of the day, we spent talking and resting in one another's arms and embrace, drowning in the warmth and comfort we have always managed to provide for one another. And we took a long walk together, laughing, chatting, joking. It was beautiful, really was and reminded me somehow of a fresh beginning, like we were in those days of just being best of friends who love each other's company so much.
But deep down inside, I can't speak for him, at least for me, there is a little distance. In these strange circumstances we find ourselves in, in a situation where he is having strong feelings for someone else and where I am still having lingering feelings for him, there has to be more distance. We cannot sustain this, we cannot always tread so closely between beings friends and make-believe lovers without either one or both of us being hurt.
I know he cares about me deeply, as he always has. It's a care that his love and our short lived relationship. But something inside just told me to withdraw, to back off and to erect barriers. I don't want him to be so concerned about me anymore. How is he supposed to move on and be with someone else, which is what he'd like, when he is so concerned about my life and wellbeing? How am I supposed to move on and let him go when I can't stand up ad deal with my own problems myself?
He started to tear when I slowly, but not in too much detail revealed mum's state of health. I was numb, not sad, not upset, and kept on saying to him I'm fine, I'll be fine. But for some reason he cried...
Was it for me, or for the fact that I was pushing him away after our intimate love making the night before?
We talked more in bed, a comfortable yet dangerous place, for it soon drew us in to yet another indulgence of our bodies and our (overly high?) sex drives.
The questions, doubts and discomfort of being around him are still there. I don't know how he feels about it, but as much as I'd like to be close to him, I also want to get away, to get some distance- which proves difficult when we sleep next to each other.
The rest of the day, we spent talking and resting in one another's arms and embrace, drowning in the warmth and comfort we have always managed to provide for one another. And we took a long walk together, laughing, chatting, joking. It was beautiful, really was and reminded me somehow of a fresh beginning, like we were in those days of just being best of friends who love each other's company so much.
But deep down inside, I can't speak for him, at least for me, there is a little distance. In these strange circumstances we find ourselves in, in a situation where he is having strong feelings for someone else and where I am still having lingering feelings for him, there has to be more distance. We cannot sustain this, we cannot always tread so closely between beings friends and make-believe lovers without either one or both of us being hurt.
Back to the hospital
More sores, more pains. The radiotherapy was supposed to last for half a year or so, but it's only been three months, and mum is feeling the pains returning, and feeling her motor skills in her arm are getting weaker.
She went to the doctor today, and the latest
blood analysis revealed an elevated CEA, which means the cancer cell count is increased.
More scans are scheduled, and an appointment with the neurosurgeon is necessary.
Another treatment using chemotherapy may be due. So soon after it just stopped... So soon!
And perhaps, at a date unknown, surgery is essential to prevent the tumour in the spine area from compressing further on her nerves, which may eventually lead to paralysis.
She sounded calm and collected, though I am not sure how she is really feeling. Frightened? Fearful? Resigned? Hopeless? Tormented by her illness and by the encroaching uncertainties of more and more treatments and a painful death?
My heart cries for her... my heart feels for her, and yet there is so very little I can do.
She kept on reasurring me, telling me not to worry, to focus on my life and making something out of it. I asked her how she felt. "I am used to it," she said
How can anyone be used to all that waiting? All the uncertainties of what will happen to your body? How can she be so calm, and keep on reassuring me not to get too worried, and to brave it all alone?
Looks like my life may be undergoing yet another unpredictable spin. She told me to stay put, not to worry about her, no matter what. "Come back in January, just for the new year and for dad's commermoration. Don't come back for me..."
But how can I just sit here if something major happens to her, like a life-changing surgery or a turn for the worst?
Disjointed, confused, and my god, am I cracking up deep down inside. How much more can I take? How much can my heart wrench and cry and shudder in fear?
Cracking up once more, and this time with just my own arms and strength to hold onto.
She went to the doctor today, and the latest
blood analysis revealed an elevated CEA, which means the cancer cell count is increased.
More scans are scheduled, and an appointment with the neurosurgeon is necessary.
Another treatment using chemotherapy may be due. So soon after it just stopped... So soon!
And perhaps, at a date unknown, surgery is essential to prevent the tumour in the spine area from compressing further on her nerves, which may eventually lead to paralysis.
She sounded calm and collected, though I am not sure how she is really feeling. Frightened? Fearful? Resigned? Hopeless? Tormented by her illness and by the encroaching uncertainties of more and more treatments and a painful death?
My heart cries for her... my heart feels for her, and yet there is so very little I can do.
She kept on reasurring me, telling me not to worry, to focus on my life and making something out of it. I asked her how she felt. "I am used to it," she said
How can anyone be used to all that waiting? All the uncertainties of what will happen to your body? How can she be so calm, and keep on reassuring me not to get too worried, and to brave it all alone?
Looks like my life may be undergoing yet another unpredictable spin. She told me to stay put, not to worry about her, no matter what. "Come back in January, just for the new year and for dad's commermoration. Don't come back for me..."
But how can I just sit here if something major happens to her, like a life-changing surgery or a turn for the worst?
Disjointed, confused, and my god, am I cracking up deep down inside. How much more can I take? How much can my heart wrench and cry and shudder in fear?
Cracking up once more, and this time with just my own arms and strength to hold onto.
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