Nobody can let your feel worthless except for yourself.
Nobody can know the true extent of your thoughts and feelings, except for yourself.
If you are misunderstood, smile and walk away.
If you are criticised, smile and let the words wash over you like rain.
If you are praised, smile and thank the person for the compliment.
Surround myself with people who can help you, who can make you feel stronger, who can see through the pain and know that with time and patience, I will grow out of withdrawing and grow into the strong person I have been.
Surround myself with people who care and love you, and who will not easily put you down.
Now, more than ever before, I need love. Love, love, love...
And now more than at anytime in my life, I need to be strong, be brave and tell myself again and again, I will be ok.
Now, more than at anytime, I need to prove to my loved ones that I can make it on my own, and that I can get up and stand up strong and tall.
Now, more than at anytime, I need to remind myself of the beauty and goodness inside, I need to forgive myself and not be so harsh to myself. I need to love myself, to care for myself. I need to look at myself and be able to smile, smile, smile again.
09 October 2012
08 October 2012
Sunset
Autumn nightfall, crickets chirping quietly, the sun setting.
It's so peacefully, so still, so beautiful... For a moment I could almost forget the sadness and pain lingering inside. For a moment, I was free from tears and memories of mum and our ordeals at the hospital.
After a long weekend being surrounded by friends, being around my ex, I am afraid of going home...
I am afraid of the silence, and my own thoughts when I am still. I am afraid of crying...
It's so peacefully, so still, so beautiful... For a moment I could almost forget the sadness and pain lingering inside. For a moment, I was free from tears and memories of mum and our ordeals at the hospital.
After a long weekend being surrounded by friends, being around my ex, I am afraid of going home...
I am afraid of the silence, and my own thoughts when I am still. I am afraid of crying...
06 October 2012
100 days
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For two weeks, I've felt the approach of this day. Perhaps I put too much thought into it, perhaps, like with many things in life I put too much meaning into "just another day". Brother seemed to have completely forgotten about the day. But it was the hundredth day after mum passed away , and the sadness and sense of longing and pain intensified.
I spent an hour or so last night at the river side, at a place where mum and I sat a while and admired the breath and beautiful of this land. I lay down to watch the clouds, and listened to songs. Inadvertently, tears began to shed, trickling down my cheeks as I sobbed quietly. The waves and music drowned out my crying.
This is a sadness that nobody, nobody can really understand. It is so personal, so raw because I was there, and it was traumatic. The nights and days, the almost endless fighting and struggle, and dying and eventually death... It saps a lot of energy from you, and leaves you so drained. Empty and drained...
100 days already since mum passed. Where is she now? Is she hurting seeing me cry so often and so much? Is she hurting because friends seem so hard to reach, and who I thought was true lasting, friendship seems so impatient and tired of my tears and me recounting my sorrows?
I laid out a full table of dishes for her... Vegetables, fruits, berries, drinks and even a bottle of Evian (my friend bought) to commemorate where we once were together. I cried when I asked her of she had finished. Of course it did not work... It was fine cooking and preparing, but when it came to making the offering, I could not stop crying... Again, these are moments I realise that things take time, and that there is a shallow wound deep down.
Then I thought of calling my brother and his family. And in the presence of my little nephew, I threw the coins. And voila, it worked, and she had finished...
Mum is around me, mum is with me... And how it must pain her to see me cry so much, and to cry over such a trivial thing as relationship and feeling misunderstood...
Mum, I will be strong. I must be strong, because in this world, only I can make myself happy...
For two weeks, I've felt the approach of this day. Perhaps I put too much thought into it, perhaps, like with many things in life I put too much meaning into "just another day". Brother seemed to have completely forgotten about the day. But it was the hundredth day after mum passed away , and the sadness and sense of longing and pain intensified.
I spent an hour or so last night at the river side, at a place where mum and I sat a while and admired the breath and beautiful of this land. I lay down to watch the clouds, and listened to songs. Inadvertently, tears began to shed, trickling down my cheeks as I sobbed quietly. The waves and music drowned out my crying.
This is a sadness that nobody, nobody can really understand. It is so personal, so raw because I was there, and it was traumatic. The nights and days, the almost endless fighting and struggle, and dying and eventually death... It saps a lot of energy from you, and leaves you so drained. Empty and drained...
100 days already since mum passed. Where is she now? Is she hurting seeing me cry so often and so much? Is she hurting because friends seem so hard to reach, and who I thought was true lasting, friendship seems so impatient and tired of my tears and me recounting my sorrows?
I laid out a full table of dishes for her... Vegetables, fruits, berries, drinks and even a bottle of Evian (my friend bought) to commemorate where we once were together. I cried when I asked her of she had finished. Of course it did not work... It was fine cooking and preparing, but when it came to making the offering, I could not stop crying... Again, these are moments I realise that things take time, and that there is a shallow wound deep down.
Then I thought of calling my brother and his family. And in the presence of my little nephew, I threw the coins. And voila, it worked, and she had finished...
Mum is around me, mum is with me... And how it must pain her to see me cry so much, and to cry over such a trivial thing as relationship and feeling misunderstood...
Mum, I will be strong. I must be strong, because in this world, only I can make myself happy...
05 October 2012
Flowers
I picked white lilies, white roses, pink lilies and some pink carnations. They made beautiful bouquet.
Mum would have liked the flowers, some are her favourite. I imagine she would give me a scolding if I gave her the bouquet, but I also know she would probably be touched and smiling inside.
"Beautiful flowers... Who are they for?" The nice florist asked as she carefully arranged them.
"for my mum..." I said, though with some hesitation at first, for I felt I was lying even though the truth is they really are for mum.
"She's a lucky mother. And you're a good son..."
I smiled, and said nothing. Was I, was I really?
The flowers are more than the scenery and beauty they bring into the room, they are more than just a symbol of remembrance as I commemorate one hundred days since mum's passing tomorrow. The flowers are from me to her, to tell her how I miss her, and how even she is no longer around, she is still my mother...
Mum would have liked the flowers, some are her favourite. I imagine she would give me a scolding if I gave her the bouquet, but I also know she would probably be touched and smiling inside.
"Beautiful flowers... Who are they for?" The nice florist asked as she carefully arranged them.
"for my mum..." I said, though with some hesitation at first, for I felt I was lying even though the truth is they really are for mum.
"She's a lucky mother. And you're a good son..."
I smiled, and said nothing. Was I, was I really?
The flowers are more than the scenery and beauty they bring into the room, they are more than just a symbol of remembrance as I commemorate one hundred days since mum's passing tomorrow. The flowers are from me to her, to tell her how I miss her, and how even she is no longer around, she is still my mother...
02 October 2012
Reflections
Have I really become a selfish, self absorbed person as my friend accuses me of being?
Have I really let myself be so absorbed by the trauma of the past few months and death of my mum that I care so little about the wellbeing and feelings of others?
It hurts me to be told I've changed and become selfish and seemingly insensitive to the feelings of people around me. It hurts also when people who are your friends start talking amongst themselves about how different I am now compared to before. Are friends not supposed to support up, comport you, give you the space and time to mourn and grief instead of talk behind your back and expect you to quickly move forward? How it hurts that I was told by someone I should go see a professional instead of turning to people around me... I thought or perhaps idealised friends as people you could turn to in the greatest time of need.
I need to reflect on how I seem to have changed over the past few months, need to think about how I (according to at least one person...) can become selfish and self-absorbed and not even see it. Is the person correct in his harsh words and judgments or am I simply so oblivious to oblivious to my own failings and continually fool myself (and others...) into believing I'm an "angel" who could do littleness wrong...?
I closed my eyes and swallowed the misunderstandings and accusations of flaws in my character. How it hurts to be told I seem to have become such a difficult person to be around. How it hurts that at a time I most need and want to reach out for human contact and support, a friend reproaches me and makes me feel like I'm a terrible person with so many flaws and failings.
It hurts especially because after mum passed away, I promised myself, promised my mum, I'd live the life of a virtuous person, I'd continue being the kindness and generosity that my mum (and to an extent dad...) espoused and was.
Have I really let myself be so absorbed by the trauma of the past few months and death of my mum that I care so little about the wellbeing and feelings of others?
It hurts me to be told I've changed and become selfish and seemingly insensitive to the feelings of people around me. It hurts also when people who are your friends start talking amongst themselves about how different I am now compared to before. Are friends not supposed to support up, comport you, give you the space and time to mourn and grief instead of talk behind your back and expect you to quickly move forward? How it hurts that I was told by someone I should go see a professional instead of turning to people around me... I thought or perhaps idealised friends as people you could turn to in the greatest time of need.
I need to reflect on how I seem to have changed over the past few months, need to think about how I (according to at least one person...) can become selfish and self-absorbed and not even see it. Is the person correct in his harsh words and judgments or am I simply so oblivious to oblivious to my own failings and continually fool myself (and others...) into believing I'm an "angel" who could do littleness wrong...?
I closed my eyes and swallowed the misunderstandings and accusations of flaws in my character. How it hurts to be told I seem to have become such a difficult person to be around. How it hurts that at a time I most need and want to reach out for human contact and support, a friend reproaches me and makes me feel like I'm a terrible person with so many flaws and failings.
It hurts especially because after mum passed away, I promised myself, promised my mum, I'd live the life of a virtuous person, I'd continue being the kindness and generosity that my mum (and to an extent dad...) espoused and was.
27 September 2012
Wall climbing
The pain in my muscles was excruciating. I felt like giving up, felt like letting go and just letting myself fall with gravity. It would have been an easy way out, just giving up and admit to myself I can't do it.
The pain made me break out in sweat all over. I felt like my arms were going to break, and that the fingers were going to snap. Altitude and gravity makes you feel so small an weak. One slip, and if I weren't safely secured to a rope which my friend held onto tightly,
I could have plummeted to my... downfall.
"I can't do it... I just can't do it..." I heard the weak self nag and echo in my head.
But I saw images of what happened at the hospital. I saw my sick mother lying there... I saw me crying because I was weak and afraid. "I can do it! I CAN do it!!"
And it was as If I found renewed strength from nowhere, as if the tiredness and soreness of my limbs and the scrapes and cuts of my skin and (slight) bleeding meant very little.
Before my eyes were images of moments with mum at the hospital. Those were truly testing times... Those were truly difficult times that were painful, truly painful (though not to forget, beautiful memories resulted from those times as well...)
I pulled myself up, reached further and hung on tighter despite the aches in my fingers and joints. I pushed myself to the limit, the way I was often pushed to the limit mentally over the past few years. And I made it to the top.
I screamed and cried out of excitement and a sense of achievement. I felt good to be alive, to be panting, sweating, aching. I felt alive!
And isn't it always like this? At the end of a long, tiring journey that is testing and trying, isn't it beautiful to let go and look back at where you came from and what difficulties you have overcome?
The pain made me break out in sweat all over. I felt like my arms were going to break, and that the fingers were going to snap. Altitude and gravity makes you feel so small an weak. One slip, and if I weren't safely secured to a rope which my friend held onto tightly,
I could have plummeted to my... downfall.
"I can't do it... I just can't do it..." I heard the weak self nag and echo in my head.
But I saw images of what happened at the hospital. I saw my sick mother lying there... I saw me crying because I was weak and afraid. "I can do it! I CAN do it!!"
And it was as If I found renewed strength from nowhere, as if the tiredness and soreness of my limbs and the scrapes and cuts of my skin and (slight) bleeding meant very little.
Before my eyes were images of moments with mum at the hospital. Those were truly testing times... Those were truly difficult times that were painful, truly painful (though not to forget, beautiful memories resulted from those times as well...)
I pulled myself up, reached further and hung on tighter despite the aches in my fingers and joints. I pushed myself to the limit, the way I was often pushed to the limit mentally over the past few years. And I made it to the top.
I screamed and cried out of excitement and a sense of achievement. I felt good to be alive, to be panting, sweating, aching. I felt alive!
And isn't it always like this? At the end of a long, tiring journey that is testing and trying, isn't it beautiful to let go and look back at where you came from and what difficulties you have overcome?
23 September 2012
Absence
What overcame me? Why am I suddenly crying again? Such sadness again, triggered perhaps by unpacking a bag containing clothes and items I took back from home almost a month ago. Yes, been almost a month and the bag was just there on the floor, untouched. It was as if I was/am afraid to touch it, afraid of what emotions and memories (and tears...) may be drawn from opening it all...
I unpacked the bag. In it was mum's blanket, the one she used till the very last moment... In it was a cat cushion I bought her, which I gave her to use to keep the sores away... She also used it till the very end....
Four years ago, I took the blanket dad used to the very end. Now, I have that of mum. Four years later, dad's blanket is just a blanket I use often, one that is stained on one side with his blood, one that smells more of me than anything else... But the blanket will always be one that is special in my heart, that is so soft and gentle to the touch...
Tonight I also tidied my drawers and sorted through my old clothing. Seeing clothes mum bought me, or clothes I bought with mum was hard. Seeing clothes dad once wore, and which I took with me after he left, hurt more than I imagined. And perhaps with the fresh wound, I found myself wave in and weak again...
I picked up the phone and called the monk in Taiwan. It was the first time I called "home" since I left. I almost cried hearing the voices of home (there were other people at the monastery, all of whom I know...)
"I've been so sad and down..." I said. That is the only way I am and have been able to describe it. Sad. Down. Empty. Hurt. Distracted and confused.
The monk told me to watch those feelings, and reminded again that they will go. All the feelings will come and go. That much is certain. He told me to think of it this way: before I was in Canada and away from mum. Now it's more or less the same. She's away now, and you can think of her still, just not reach her. "Think of her when you want, and she's out there somewhere..."
I struggled hard to contain my years. Struggled so hard not to cry. And often the more you try to do that, the more you end up crying after you let go.
I hung up the phone, and steaks of tears flowed down. I could not help from crying. I still cannot help myself from crying...
The longing, the pain, the emptiness is so immense. So very immense...
I unpacked the bag. In it was mum's blanket, the one she used till the very last moment... In it was a cat cushion I bought her, which I gave her to use to keep the sores away... She also used it till the very end....
Four years ago, I took the blanket dad used to the very end. Now, I have that of mum. Four years later, dad's blanket is just a blanket I use often, one that is stained on one side with his blood, one that smells more of me than anything else... But the blanket will always be one that is special in my heart, that is so soft and gentle to the touch...
Tonight I also tidied my drawers and sorted through my old clothing. Seeing clothes mum bought me, or clothes I bought with mum was hard. Seeing clothes dad once wore, and which I took with me after he left, hurt more than I imagined. And perhaps with the fresh wound, I found myself wave in and weak again...
I picked up the phone and called the monk in Taiwan. It was the first time I called "home" since I left. I almost cried hearing the voices of home (there were other people at the monastery, all of whom I know...)
"I've been so sad and down..." I said. That is the only way I am and have been able to describe it. Sad. Down. Empty. Hurt. Distracted and confused.
The monk told me to watch those feelings, and reminded again that they will go. All the feelings will come and go. That much is certain. He told me to think of it this way: before I was in Canada and away from mum. Now it's more or less the same. She's away now, and you can think of her still, just not reach her. "Think of her when you want, and she's out there somewhere..."
I struggled hard to contain my years. Struggled so hard not to cry. And often the more you try to do that, the more you end up crying after you let go.
I hung up the phone, and steaks of tears flowed down. I could not help from crying. I still cannot help myself from crying...
The longing, the pain, the emptiness is so immense. So very immense...
21 September 2012
Tears
I started to cry in the middle of the night after some misunderstanding with a friend which made me feel terribly guilty and terribly lonely. It was perhaps the second most intense crying session I experienced since I returned. There was just this loneliness, this terrible emptiness inside. I kept seeing images of mum and me holding her hand, seeing her lying at the hospital and being so weak and me sitting at her side trying to comfort her...
And I dreamed... of mum, of me howling in great pain. There was such a missing, such an intense longing for her I could not describe. The morning was again one of those I spent drifting in and out of sleep and consciousness, and after really getting up I felt completely drained and exhausted... The intensity of the dream was numbing, and now I feel like I'm in a daze, like I've been through terrible torture and just feel numb now...
And I dreamed... of mum, of me howling in great pain. There was such a missing, such an intense longing for her I could not describe. The morning was again one of those I spent drifting in and out of sleep and consciousness, and after really getting up I felt completely drained and exhausted... The intensity of the dream was numbing, and now I feel like I'm in a daze, like I've been through terrible torture and just feel numb now...
20 September 2012
Surreal
Am I alive?
What am I doing here?
Lying here, dreaming, drifting away... Am I really living?
So much has happened, but now it's all quiet, all quiet. And who do I have left in life? Who cares, who is there to hold me when I am weak, comfort me when I am sad?
The teddy bear mum once gave me is right next to me... She told me when she gave me the bear: he will keep up company when I am gone.
Now she is gone. Really gone...
And I cannot keep from crying.
I cannot keep the sadness and pain at bay...
What am I doing here?
Lying here, dreaming, drifting away... Am I really living?
So much has happened, but now it's all quiet, all quiet. And who do I have left in life? Who cares, who is there to hold me when I am weak, comfort me when I am sad?
The teddy bear mum once gave me is right next to me... She told me when she gave me the bear: he will keep up company when I am gone.
Now she is gone. Really gone...
And I cannot keep from crying.
I cannot keep the sadness and pain at bay...
17 September 2012
I found crumpled yellow piece of paper in my rucksack as I was riding metro. I opened it, and saw mum's name and signature on it. Her signature was faint, but still recognisable. The paper was the receipt from a bank transaction mum and I made, and it was dated 20 March of this year.
Immediately I remembered... The vomiting, mum's weak demeanour, mum's gradual decline and inability to hold a pen, let alone sign her own name. I remember going to the bank with her that day to take care of some affairs. She wanted to repay a debt owed to my uncle, even though he had told her many times not to worry or think too much. But she was afraid that once she enters TW hospital, which at that time was imminent, she may have no chance to repay her debt... The bank statement was dated just says after we were told the cancer spread and was blocking the intestines, therefore preventing her from eating or drinking. Perhaps she knew she would
Immediately I remembered... The vomiting, mum's weak demeanour, mum's gradual decline and inability to hold a pen, let alone sign her own name. I remember going to the bank with her that day to take care of some affairs. She wanted to repay a debt owed to my uncle, even though he had told her many times not to worry or think too much. But she was afraid that once she enters TW hospital, which at that time was imminent, she may have no chance to repay her debt... The bank statement was dated just says after we were told the cancer spread and was blocking the intestines, therefore preventing her from eating or drinking. Perhaps she knew she would
Sudden sadness
My colleague mentioned he felt his back aching, and also that he had a sharp pain in his liver.
I heard the word liver. Liver. Liver...
My mind dashed back to the hospital, to the room where mum lay for weeks and weeks. My mind began to conjure images of mum's yellow skin, yellow face, yellow from jaundice. I saw bile juices, I saw tubes, I saw my languishing in pain. I saw the past, the horrible past. I know the past is gone, and I am in the beautiful present, I know. But the past was so traumatic, so painful, so difficult to forget...
I miss mum... I miss her terribly. Terribly...
Sitting here in my office, and I am crying...
A small boy, crying and nobody can see my tears. Nobody can understand or really share my pain...
I heard the word liver. Liver. Liver...
My mind dashed back to the hospital, to the room where mum lay for weeks and weeks. My mind began to conjure images of mum's yellow skin, yellow face, yellow from jaundice. I saw bile juices, I saw tubes, I saw my languishing in pain. I saw the past, the horrible past. I know the past is gone, and I am in the beautiful present, I know. But the past was so traumatic, so painful, so difficult to forget...
I miss mum... I miss her terribly. Terribly...
Sitting here in my office, and I am crying...
A small boy, crying and nobody can see my tears. Nobody can understand or really share my pain...
16 September 2012
The river
I come here to find solace... I come here to watch the waves and listen to the laughter of the river.
I come here to reminisce, to dream, to cry...
The river flows and changes from moment to moment, the current rises and falls. It is not afraid of obstacles, it is not afraid of the cold or of the rain or the sun. The river just is, just flows as it is meant to, as it has done for eons.
Beautiful, Quietly flowing and never dull
I come here to reminisce, to dream, to cry...
The river flows and changes from moment to moment, the current rises and falls. It is not afraid of obstacles, it is not afraid of the cold or of the rain or the sun. The river just is, just flows as it is meant to, as it has done for eons.
Beautiful, Quietly flowing and never dull
Something inside so strong
I feel it especially at night when I am alone, when the lust and sexual desires and energies have been released... The emptiness, the terrible terrible emptiness and pain of feelings that is cutting my heart and tearing apart my mind.
The pain and emptiness is especially strong at night when I am alone. I feel so alone, like I am unable to turn to anyone. Nobody can be trusted with my feelings, nobody can be burdened with my dark brooding thoughts...
I just wish I had someone to talk to, someone to lie next to and to hold me and reassure me. I just wish I had a lover who cares for me, who can soothe my pain and wipe away my tears and remind me again and again when the emptiness threatens to return: there is something inside so strong...
So strong, if only I can feel it.
The pain and emptiness is especially strong at night when I am alone. I feel so alone, like I am unable to turn to anyone. Nobody can be trusted with my feelings, nobody can be burdened with my dark brooding thoughts...
I just wish I had someone to talk to, someone to lie next to and to hold me and reassure me. I just wish I had a lover who cares for me, who can soothe my pain and wipe away my tears and remind me again and again when the emptiness threatens to return: there is something inside so strong...
So strong, if only I can feel it.
15 September 2012
Father and son
Just saw father and son walk out of breakfast restaurant on a Saturday morning. The dad joked and tried to cajole the boy back into the car. They were smiling and laughing. A beautiful scene of the love between a father and son
14 September 2012
Put down
I've been wanting to go to the shelter for cats with my flatmate, and today I finally had my chance.
There were so many cats, all so beautiful, elegant and innocent looking. My heart melted and went out to them, and I found myself asking why or how people can leave these beautiful creatures just wandering around the streets.
There was one particular cat, a grey one with a signature tuft of white on her (I checked, it's her...) chest. She was particularly friendly and affectionate.
Later at night I told my friend about her and showed him a picture of her, ad he too fell in love with her. He suggested we adopt her, and talked incidentally about cats getting old and the hard choice we may have to face to put a beloved pet who has been in our lives for so long down when it's ill or too old and suffering...
My heart wrenched when I heard those words. My erratic brain made the connection between a pet being put down and a human being being "put down" at that end stage of life. You don't want to prolong the suffering, you don't want the person to suffer unnecessary pain, and in a way you yourself don't want to have unnecessary pain. He described how it's difficult to see a loved one writhing and suffering pain...
I saw mum lie there in the hospital bed, writhing and struggling and fighting for breath... Oh, god, the tears threatened to erupt again... Mum, how you suffered so and I was unable to help.
And the question came back to haunt me, and made the smile I had earlier quickly vanish. Did I "put my mum down"? Did I kill her by pushing her to enter hospice all that time...? Did I kill her?
Did I kill mum...? Did I by increasing the dosage of her morphine, knowing fully well it might hasten her death...? Was it out of compassion and love and concern of her wellbeing and quality of life, or was it selfish and just not wanting me to suffer any more seeing her suffer and in pain...?
Mum, please you forgive me if I put you down before you were ready...
I held your hand and leaned on you, and I imagined it was what you wanted...
But did I put you down?
Perhaps for as long as I live there will be this guilty conscience I will have to live with...
There were so many cats, all so beautiful, elegant and innocent looking. My heart melted and went out to them, and I found myself asking why or how people can leave these beautiful creatures just wandering around the streets.
There was one particular cat, a grey one with a signature tuft of white on her (I checked, it's her...) chest. She was particularly friendly and affectionate.
Later at night I told my friend about her and showed him a picture of her, ad he too fell in love with her. He suggested we adopt her, and talked incidentally about cats getting old and the hard choice we may have to face to put a beloved pet who has been in our lives for so long down when it's ill or too old and suffering...
My heart wrenched when I heard those words. My erratic brain made the connection between a pet being put down and a human being being "put down" at that end stage of life. You don't want to prolong the suffering, you don't want the person to suffer unnecessary pain, and in a way you yourself don't want to have unnecessary pain. He described how it's difficult to see a loved one writhing and suffering pain...
I saw mum lie there in the hospital bed, writhing and struggling and fighting for breath... Oh, god, the tears threatened to erupt again... Mum, how you suffered so and I was unable to help.
And the question came back to haunt me, and made the smile I had earlier quickly vanish. Did I "put my mum down"? Did I kill her by pushing her to enter hospice all that time...? Did I kill her?
Did I kill mum...? Did I by increasing the dosage of her morphine, knowing fully well it might hasten her death...? Was it out of compassion and love and concern of her wellbeing and quality of life, or was it selfish and just not wanting me to suffer any more seeing her suffer and in pain...?
Mum, please you forgive me if I put you down before you were ready...
I held your hand and leaned on you, and I imagined it was what you wanted...
But did I put you down?
Perhaps for as long as I live there will be this guilty conscience I will have to live with...
11 September 2012
Lonely heart
At night, when all is quiet, when no one else is around, the loneliness beckons...
And it lures me in, almost swallows me whole and crushes my soul. I never really acknowledged what a "needy" person I am in terms of affection and human contact.
But now I realise, when all is quiet, when I am alone at night, and there is no one I can call up, I feel my lonely heart ache and my eyes threatening to cry again..
And it lures me in, almost swallows me whole and crushes my soul. I never really acknowledged what a "needy" person I am in terms of affection and human contact.
But now I realise, when all is quiet, when I am alone at night, and there is no one I can call up, I feel my lonely heart ache and my eyes threatening to cry again..
09 September 2012
At least I had you...
I listened to this song many times over the past few years. It is titled "At least I have you", and it is about a lover who cares and loved another so deeply that the person is willing to give up the whole world for the other .
The song has always been able to move me, and at times move me to tears. I heard the song when mum was struggling in hospital, writhing in agony and pain...
I sang along to the song when mum was recovering from chemo...
The song and lyrics echoed in my ears when I was holding mum's hand and encouraging her time and again to live her life as if every day were the last day...
For so long, I was there, as a son, as a child, hoping and praying by her side and from afar that she would get better, that she would be free from pain and suffering...
I heard this song tonight again.
And tears began to fall...
For those brief periods I was with mum, despite all that was happening, I told myself: at least I have her in my life.
Now, despite all that has happened, despite having lost her, I tell myself:
at least I had her in my life...
"I am scared there is not enough time,
I want to hold you,
Until I can feel your hairline has the the trace of snow white,
Until [your] vision becomes blurred,
Until [you] cannot breathe,
Let our our body and shadows never part...
It has not been easy,
We have no command over our bodies,
I am afraid time goes by too quickly,
Not enough to watch you in detail,
I am afraid time goes too slow,
Day and night afraid to loose you...
I would rather grow old within a night,
And never part..."
Bank statement
I found crumpled yellow piece of paper in my rucksack as I was riding
metro. I opened it, and saw mum's name and signature on it. Her
signature was faint, but still recognisable. The paper was the receipt
from a bank transaction mum and I made, and it was dated 20 March of
this year.
Immediately I remembered... The vomiting, mum's weak demeanour, mum's gradual decline and inability to hold a pen, let alone sign her own name. I remember going to the bank with her that day to take care of some affairs. She wanted to repay a debt owed to my uncle, even though he had told her many times not to worry or think too much. But she was afraid that once she enters TW hospital, which at that time was imminent, she may have no chance to repay her debt... The bank statement was dated just says after we were told the cancer spread and was blocking the intestines, therefore preventing her from eating or drinking. Perhaps she knew she would no longer be here. Perhaps she knew that...
Immediately I remembered... The vomiting, mum's weak demeanour, mum's gradual decline and inability to hold a pen, let alone sign her own name. I remember going to the bank with her that day to take care of some affairs. She wanted to repay a debt owed to my uncle, even though he had told her many times not to worry or think too much. But she was afraid that once she enters TW hospital, which at that time was imminent, she may have no chance to repay her debt... The bank statement was dated just says after we were told the cancer spread and was blocking the intestines, therefore preventing her from eating or drinking. Perhaps she knew she would no longer be here. Perhaps she knew that...
Little get together
Had quiet little get together for lunch today with friends. They were very kind and generous, and constantly told me to eat more, and more specifically eat more meat because I look so much thinner than before. But I resisted, and said I'm going to avoid meat (but despite protests from a true vegetarian, fish is alright...) till the 100th day anniversary of mum's passing, which is in less than a month's time.
There was the usual small talk about how life has been, about work and such, and of course inevitably conversation touched on how I am.
How am I? Despite appearances, despite smiles and my laughter, more emotional and teary than usual. "Sad..." I said, "Just sad..."
Sad... I cannot describe that feeling fully.
Just sad.
Sad...
And would I want to describe that feeling to people? Would they really try to understand or perhaps just say something dismissive like "It'll pass... You'll get over it..."? Sometimes it hurts more when you try to describe how you're feeling, and people just look at you and say things like that. Of course I'll get over it, of course it'll all pass. But at this very moment I'm hurting, I'm in pain, I'm in tears... All one needs sometimes is an acknowledgement of that hurt, that pain and those tears.
Sad... A kind of sadness that is not buoyed by the fact that I know I am so fortunate to have my health, to have all I need in life (and more...), and on top of it all, I have a nice job. And I have great friends who make me feel lucky and supported.
But I am sad because I'm missing that personal warmth and intimacy which I have gotten used to and at times taken for granted... Sad because I am not sure when or whether I will ever find that same level of warmth and intimacy ever again... The sadness is more pronounced at night when I curl up in bed. The sadness is more frightening and painful when I dream and see mum appear before me.
Yes, it'll all pass. Yes, my tears will dry, my smiles and laughters will be more genuine and true... But right now, I am sad. Just so sad.
There was the usual small talk about how life has been, about work and such, and of course inevitably conversation touched on how I am.
How am I? Despite appearances, despite smiles and my laughter, more emotional and teary than usual. "Sad..." I said, "Just sad..."
Sad... I cannot describe that feeling fully.
Just sad.
Sad...
And would I want to describe that feeling to people? Would they really try to understand or perhaps just say something dismissive like "It'll pass... You'll get over it..."? Sometimes it hurts more when you try to describe how you're feeling, and people just look at you and say things like that. Of course I'll get over it, of course it'll all pass. But at this very moment I'm hurting, I'm in pain, I'm in tears... All one needs sometimes is an acknowledgement of that hurt, that pain and those tears.
Sad... A kind of sadness that is not buoyed by the fact that I know I am so fortunate to have my health, to have all I need in life (and more...), and on top of it all, I have a nice job. And I have great friends who make me feel lucky and supported.
But I am sad because I'm missing that personal warmth and intimacy which I have gotten used to and at times taken for granted... Sad because I am not sure when or whether I will ever find that same level of warmth and intimacy ever again... The sadness is more pronounced at night when I curl up in bed. The sadness is more frightening and painful when I dream and see mum appear before me.
Yes, it'll all pass. Yes, my tears will dry, my smiles and laughters will be more genuine and true... But right now, I am sad. Just so sad.
Sadness
07092012.2234
I just started crying, right there in frOnt of people. Did anyone see my tears? Could anyone feel my sadness or pain? If nobody saw anything, it did not happen, right?
But I saw myself cry, I felt the tears and the deep pain, pain I know will be accentuated at night when I am lying alone in bed and trying to sleep.
I promised mum, I promised myself, I'd be stronger, braver... But I am not. Nobody knows that behind the smiles and my laughter, a boy is crying and inconsolable.
I just started crying, right there in frOnt of people. Did anyone see my tears? Could anyone feel my sadness or pain? If nobody saw anything, it did not happen, right?
But I saw myself cry, I felt the tears and the deep pain, pain I know will be accentuated at night when I am lying alone in bed and trying to sleep.
I promised mum, I promised myself, I'd be stronger, braver... But I am not. Nobody knows that behind the smiles and my laughter, a boy is crying and inconsolable.
08 September 2012
07 September 2012
Heartbreak
I must learn to be alone and not to be afraid.
I must be able to hold myself, look at myself, love myself, and not allow the loneliness get the better of me.
The only way I know how is to let the tears fall...
I must be able to hold myself, look at myself, love myself, and not allow the loneliness get the better of me.
The only way I know how is to let the tears fall...
1.44AM
Suddenly, I just shook awake.
I felt as if there were a strange presence. A feeling I did not have since the days at the hospital when mum was struggling with her body and life only a few metres away...
It is a terrifying feeling, but I am so tired... Too tired to be afraid, too tired to make sense of it all...
I felt as if there were a strange presence. A feeling I did not have since the days at the hospital when mum was struggling with her body and life only a few metres away...
It is a terrifying feeling, but I am so tired... Too tired to be afraid, too tired to make sense of it all...
06 September 2012
Inner Silence
06092012.1422
Often people have no idea, really no idea what it feels like to lose someone. Not just anyone, but a parent, a loved one you have taken care of for so long.
No idea. And they expect you to function like a 'normal' person, to keep a straight face, to smile and to cover your pain.
It just makes me wish I could turn away and turn toward the inner silence in the depth of my mind where I can really mourn and really cry and not feel afraid.
Often people have no idea, really no idea what it feels like to lose someone. Not just anyone, but a parent, a loved one you have taken care of for so long.
No idea. And they expect you to function like a 'normal' person, to keep a straight face, to smile and to cover your pain.
It just makes me wish I could turn away and turn toward the inner silence in the depth of my mind where I can really mourn and really cry and not feel afraid.
Calling home
I woke up a little passed half past seven. I woke up and instinctively grabbed my phone, and perhaps the daze of sleep clouded my judgement. Before I knew it, I was calling home.
The teddy bear next to me seemed to look at me with such a sad, sad face. Mocking me, was he, or was it an expression of sympathy? I hung up.
Nobody picked up...
The teddy bear next to me seemed to look at me with such a sad, sad face. Mocking me, was he, or was it an expression of sympathy? I hung up.
Nobody picked up...
04 September 2012
Dedication
I know tomorrow will be better.
I know, I know that there will be a tomorrow when this sorrow, this pain, this loneliness will have subsided.
Until then, I must be strong, brave and stand on my own.
Cry if I must, grit my teeth if I must, ache if I must.
One day, these dark moments of mourning will turn into a brighter, better tomorrow.
One day, I can wipe away these tears and soothe this pain and feel love and find myself again.
I know, I know that there will be a tomorrow when this sorrow, this pain, this loneliness will have subsided.
Until then, I must be strong, brave and stand on my own.
Cry if I must, grit my teeth if I must, ache if I must.
One day, these dark moments of mourning will turn into a brighter, better tomorrow.
One day, I can wipe away these tears and soothe this pain and feel love and find myself again.
What can I give you?
I continue to ask
I continue to look for it
Can't stop thinking...
Pigeons dedicate themselves to the blue sky.
Star lights dedicate themselves to the long night.
What can I give you, my little child?
Rainy seasons dedicate themselves to the ground.
Days and months dedicate themselves to the seasons.
What can I give you, my mom and dad?
Betrayal
040912.1934
I stood and watched the leaves fall. Early September, and already there are signs of the approaching Autumn, signs of decay and death. It is in this season that I will need to find life after death again. It is in this season that I will need to slowly climb out of the hole I have sunk into after mum left...
Yet, why are there so many moments when I feel such guilt and deep sense of betrayal? Betrayal, not least by other people, but betrayal of me by myself! That is perhaps the most difficult and sordid sense of betrayal there is!
As mum slowly lost her life, I promised myself I would lead a 'good' life. I would prove to mum and prove to life that I can rise and soar from the depths of pain and despair despite of, or because of, all the trials and setbacks I have faced. I promised myself to live an honest life, to do good, to speak softly, to feel kindness toward all, because the life of every one is so precious and so fragile...
And yet, yet I find myself caught in jealousy and frustration, lost myself hurting people in a state of confusion and despair. Have I failed myself? Have I not failed my late mother by being (at times) the petty and confused person who has so much difficulty to let go of things, let go of guilt and let go of the past? I sometimes find myself asking: how much would mum shake her head in disappoint if she knew what I hurt I have caused people?
Perhaps I ask too much of myself, and, as someone once said, I perceive myself to be this wonderful and perfect little angel who does not see any flaws in himself (hence the sense of betrayal feels all the more profound...). Perhaps, as a monk once told me, I should just 'lighten' up, acknowledge that I am only human and make mistakes that once made cannot be undone, no matter how deep the regret or remorse. But really, I sometimes drown in guilt and sorrow knowing some of the words I have uttered or actions I have done have hurt people terribly and ruined the trust and confidence of others.
I stood and watched the leaves fall. Early September, and already there are signs of the approaching Autumn, signs of decay and death. It is in this season that I will need to find life after death again. It is in this season that I will need to slowly climb out of the hole I have sunk into after mum left...
Yet, why are there so many moments when I feel such guilt and deep sense of betrayal? Betrayal, not least by other people, but betrayal of me by myself! That is perhaps the most difficult and sordid sense of betrayal there is!
As mum slowly lost her life, I promised myself I would lead a 'good' life. I would prove to mum and prove to life that I can rise and soar from the depths of pain and despair despite of, or because of, all the trials and setbacks I have faced. I promised myself to live an honest life, to do good, to speak softly, to feel kindness toward all, because the life of every one is so precious and so fragile...
And yet, yet I find myself caught in jealousy and frustration, lost myself hurting people in a state of confusion and despair. Have I failed myself? Have I not failed my late mother by being (at times) the petty and confused person who has so much difficulty to let go of things, let go of guilt and let go of the past? I sometimes find myself asking: how much would mum shake her head in disappoint if she knew what I hurt I have caused people?
Perhaps I ask too much of myself, and, as someone once said, I perceive myself to be this wonderful and perfect little angel who does not see any flaws in himself (hence the sense of betrayal feels all the more profound...). Perhaps, as a monk once told me, I should just 'lighten' up, acknowledge that I am only human and make mistakes that once made cannot be undone, no matter how deep the regret or remorse. But really, I sometimes drown in guilt and sorrow knowing some of the words I have uttered or actions I have done have hurt people terribly and ruined the trust and confidence of others.
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