Dream

Attempts to leave country thwarted again and again.
Detained at airport, begging and crying to no avail/.

Mum and dad appeared, seemingly upset and distressed.
Tortured dreams and images , all too real.

Attempt to tidy up

There's a reason why I've not unpacked certain things I brought back from home almost five months ago. Several folders full of papers, documents and pictures. Friends who visit my place tell me how messy my place is, and wonder why there are so many things on the floor of my room.

Well, I can say it's because there's not much shelf space, which is true. And i can say I'm just messy by nature and a hoarder. But deep down, there is a deeper reason. These papers, documents and pictures are difficult to touch and more difficult to look at. I asked myself as I flipped through the papers why I keep all these things... Aren't these pieces of paper going to go yellow and fade one day? Will they not in ten, twenty years' time be as good as rubbish? To anyone else, they're just pieces of paper, but to me they are part of me.

The papers range from certificates issued by the hospital to official notification from the city hall that my mum has been "deregistered" from the national census, the documents are in folders dealing with the estate and the family home I'm on the verge of losing, and the pictures are those I put up on the wall of the hospice room to make the drab place feel more "homely" for mum's sake and everyone's sake.

I had to sort through some of them tonight, in search of something I need for work. I grabbed a folder, flipped through it, and then set it down. I know what I'm getting myself into, but I cannot stop until I find what I'm looking for. Then came a point when I needed to stop, for I could no longer see... My vision became blurred and watery. Then sitting on the floor, I began to sob again.

Amid bank statements and passport pictures of mum, I saw the envelop again. On it mum wrote my name, the name she has always used to call me, a cute version of my real name that makes me sound like I'm a little kid, who is full of wonder, full of joy and a bundle of cuteness. I guess for her, I've always been, and will always be, her little kid.

Inside was a note bearing her pen marks, and a bit of money. More symbolic than anything else, for the money cannot be used and must be kept forever. It's symbolically the very last thing she is leaving behind in this world and giving me to keep.

She told me one day, days before she left, where she left this very envelop bearing my name, and to only open it after she has......

I opened it only once, after she passed, and quickly put it away. I could put it away then, and move on to busy myself with others things that needed taking care of back in July. Opening it again today, and seeing her handwriting wrenched my heart.

I am still not ready, at least not ready by myself to deal with the things lying on the floor. Not ready... Not ready.

Reading

Goodness... I'm not really into fortune telling, but this one strikes a deep chord and seems to sum up my past and present very well...

"[...] since your 13th anniversary your personality has changed. Today you are a different person than before that evil incident. Anxiety has taken the upper hand in your soul, once filled with energy and joy. Your passionate nature, your immense sensitivity have been impounding on your relationships with the others. Some people know your weak points all too well, they often use them and sometimes abuse them.

[...] your behavior today is full of contrasts. You easily slip from calm to impulsive behavior, your sharp reactions are followed by moments of great sorrow. When this happens, it seriously affects you and you think no one can truly understand you.

Moreover, today I sense that you are even more vulnerable and isolated from everyone. I perceive a high level of stress and a lot of apathy. You are filled with doubts and you are convinced you will never find a way out.

[...] All these negative thoughts are your worst enemies, as they quietly maintain this unhealthy climate that is corroding your existence minute after minute and chokes one after another your every chance of success."

Of course, as much as the above reflects my emotional set of mind and the "evil incident[s]" before my 13th birthday, if you do a google search of these words, you will come across forums on fraud schemes online.

Move

When life throws you down and circumstances choke you and make you feel like you cannot take it any longer, perhaps it is time to move on.

Move on, pack up my bags and move to a new place. Start life fresh, away from the  people and places that carry so many memories that haunt me so and make me so afraid to face on a daily basis. I am so scared to even step out of the house, to meet people. Why, I cannot understand. What have I done to feel such shame?

Family visit to grandpa

I got an email just now from my relatives (dad's side of the family...) It was an invitation for me to join them on a family trip to Hainan Island... China.

For personal and political reasons, I've long resisted any reason to visit China. But this trip is different, and something my dad's side of the family has been talking about for over a decade. I did express my interest to go many times to pay respects to my late granpa, who passed away when I was only two. I don't remember much, but I recently saw the little red bike that he gave first to my brother and then to me. The bike has since been restored and repainted, and is now being used by my second cousin...

My grandpa served as a soldier of the Japanese Empire during the Second World War and was for many years stationed on Hainan Island. He was cannon fodder, literally the the foot soldiers who were sent  toward enemy lines, the enemy then being the Chinese... He came back shellshocked, lost his mind, and was very abusive, my aunt told me, and it took a long while till he became "normal" again. My dad was born a year or so after my grandpa returned from the war.

In November, my grandpa was unearthed from his tomb after 25 years, and was finally cremated and put to rest next to my grandma. It marked a milestone in my family, and I imagine it was the trigger to organise this family trip to visit a place where grandpa once fought and lived...

But I can't go. I had to decline, as much as it tempted me... I just cannot think of  a trip anymore, even if it's such an important one.

Dreams...

060113.0722

It was all so real, and again so torturous for my mind that I shook awake...

I saw mum, on the back of the motorcycle I was riding. I took her around town, Rodin carefully from place to place, riding very slowly so she wouldn't fall off. I did used to do that with her, often in the weekend, taking her for a spin and breath of fresh air. But in the dream, she sat in the back, grabbed onto my body tightly and said nothing. I felt tense, felt responsible for her safety, and all around us were so much traffic and so many people...

Then dad appeared in another dream. He was getting ready for bed, and I was lying down on the floor next to him. He asked me how I was doing, asked me why I looked so sad and upset... I ran out of the room, crying...

Suddenly, my ex's father appeared out of nowhere. (He is such a lovely man in real life, and both the father and mother seem to care and ask about me a lot...) He questioned me on what is going on between my ex and me. I felt so uncomfortable, but he kept on asking for an explanation, insisting I tell him so he can understand and try to do something... I felt so desperate and trapped, for who was I to tell his parents about complications between their son and me..?

What a way to start the day...

How...?

How do I keep from crying?  How do I pry myself out of bed and force myself to work and study?
I feel so drained, so empty, so depressed, so very tired even though I sleep and sleep and sleep some more. And for several days now, there is a sharp pain in my chest that is making me feel even worse.
I've returned home, but still unable to muster the energy to see friends or do anything constructive. The suitcases are still unpacked, the washing undone, clothes and things strewn all over the floor...

I need some kind of hope, something, someone, to grab me by the hand and pull me out of this terrible low I've suddenly descended into. It is at times like this that my mother's kind, kind face, and the face of the dearest friend and soulmate I thought I had, appear before me, making me cry even more...

Gone, gone, sadness, Be gone!
 Leave me alone, do not torture me any longer. Gone, gone, pain! Let  me smile, for once smile and remind me what it feels like not to feel pain, not to feel loss... what it feels like not to feel at all...

Only love

 I heard this song in my head when I was drifting in and out of consciousness... The last time I played the song was the day before mum's funeral. I never played it since. The memories of those days, preparing for mum's funeral and the visit of my ex, I seem to have left behind me...

Until this afternoon, when my own mind conjured up the tune and the lyrics...
Then, listening to the words again on the internet, I realised the "other" meaning of the song. It reflects not just the loss of a dear one, but the also a loss of a lover.

Here, I am, sitting here , longing and thinking of two people who have been in my life... Where are they now...? Where are they now?


"Only love can make a memory
Only love can make a moment last.
You were there
And all the world was young
And all its songs unsung,
And I remember you then,
When love was all,
All you were living for,
And how you gave that love to me.

Only then I felt my heart was free,
I was part of you and you were all of me.
Warm were the days and the nights of those years,
Painted in colors to outshine the sun.
All of the words and the dreams and the tears
Live in my remembrance. "

No hiding forever

I dread going home... I dread having to face all these things at home and face all these friends. I'm sure they'll ask, out of concern, perhaps out of an attraction for gossip and entertainment, where I have been and what happened. I dread getting that "I-told-you-so" look and the same old speech of "things will pass"...

But I can't just hide, I can't cut off communication with the outside world and have my phone switched off forever. I can't just hide and sleep, and sleep some more, to rid myself of the dread and the pain of being awake. Even sleep isn't helping, not when I am beset my nightmares of death, fear and abandonment (in the latest, I was standing dangerously close to a leaking gas cannister trying to turn it off... in another last night, I was walking down the street and saw some friends. I tried to get close to hug them, they ran away...)

My god, just as I thought I have finally come to terms with mum's passing after my trip to India/Nepal, images and thoughts seem to be returning with a vengeance. Makes me feel like such a failure, especially after telling my parents, telling myself, I'd begin to let go now and start my life afresh.

I can't hide forever. But I feel so vulnerable going out there in the bitter, bitter cold, and feel like any little thing can make me break down and rcry .

Fear of home

A few days away, and now dragging my feet home. There's such reluctance and hesitation, fear of what awaits me... The possible presence of my ex, questions and jeers of mutual friends (who find all this continuing drama as a source of ridicule and amusement...), items and momentoes lying around that remind me of happy times long ago and seemingly long since forgotten...

It is ridiculous. Why am I so scared to return to my own home? My own home! My only home in the world now, which I opened up to my ex whole heartedly because he did not have a place to stay. I let him into my most personal space, and with this sense of betrayal and deception that are being revealed to me, I feel my home has become violated, become tainted and no longer a place of my only refuge and sanctuary. Perhaps in my absence, he was even there with his partner. Imagine that...

Why do I have to put up with this in the first days of a new year? I gave everything, but now I'm even afraid to step into my own home and sleep in the bed where just days ago he slept next to me in...

My has been chest physically aching terribly since that day, and it seems to be getting worse. Perhaps this is a manifestation of an emotional heartbreak. I'm so weak and so wracked by pain and disturbing thoughts an fears...

Peace

媽媽, 謝謝妳陪伴我走到我人生的開始...
謝謝妳陪伴我走完這趟朝聖之旅...

媽媽, 我會多多保重... 我一定會更好,更堅強面對一生的一切...

http://alternativeformosa.blogspot.ca/2012_06_24_archive.html

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(Farewell, mum and dad... I dropped their pictures onto the earth around the sacred Bodhi Tree at Bodh Gaya, the very tree under which the Buddha became enlightened... I do hope they are at peace now... ultimate peace, free from all worry, from from all suffering...)

Namo tassa bhagavato arahato samma sambuddhassa,
Namo tassa bhagavato arahato samma sambuddhassa,
Namo tassa bhagavato arahato samma sambuddhassa,
   

Call

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I didn't tell her what happened over the past few days or where I was. What's the point? Why should she worry unnecessarily? What could she do being so far away?

My cousin (mum's youngest sister's daughter...) called on Line to wish my happy new year. We talked a bit, and I tried hard to suppress my feelings. She said the other day, on 27 December, she felt so sad because she was remembered how it all began last year. The emergency call she made to me from the hospital. Trying to calm me on the phone while at the same time relaying news of mum's failing health and imminent surgery. She remembered how shocked I was, she remembered the pictures she sent to me of mum. She still has this one minute video I made for mum just before I boarded the plane, in which I told mum to hang on there, in which I told mum out loud for the first time perhaps, that I love her. I wasn't sure if after I land, mum would still be there. And sometimes if you don't say something from the bottom of your heart, and if you keep on being afraid of feeling ashamed or too touchy-feely, you might lose the opportunity to do so forever.

The fear and anxiety were overwhelming, and my cousin, who was the first to greet me as I rushed into the hospital, who was there throughout the final six months of mum's life, knew perhaps best what happened and what I went. She was there, she saw the suffering of mum, she saw my suffering and desperation. My cousin saw mum's death approaching, she cried and felt sorry that she cried because I never once shed a tear in front of her. It deeply affected her, but she felt so sorry for me. She also saw how tortured I was trying to grapple with the reality that my ex moved on, she saw how tortures I was trying to resist any temptations to reach out to him so he could have his time and new found happiness.

I thanked my cousin, again and again with such gratitude and such humbleness I could have cried if I weren't trying to suppress my emotions by biting hard on my lower lips. I feel indebted to her, to so many people who have been there and carried me through (yes, even to, or especially to, my ex, who has been there for so long...)

"Be strong, and take good care of yourself..." She said at the end.

This morning, I woke up and saw a message she sent me that made me cry as soon as I read it.

"I feel you are so lonely!"

I tried to hide it, to hide in the world, but the loneliness and hurt still shines through.

Wretched guilt...

020113.0543

I woke up crying and disoriented, felt like I was thrown into a nightmare in a strange room in a foreign place. The dream was too real, the pain too intense it hurt my chest and left me gasping terribly for breath... The worse feeling was waking up and that realisation I was alone and that there was no one to turn to...

In the dream I was howling. Terrible sounds escaping my mouth as I cried and cried in public. I was beyond consolation.

I had just received news mum died. But I was not by her side. I was in school, working, in fact talking to my boss. Then the news suddenly came. I ran out of the office, dropped to the ground and frantically with shaking hands and from trembling fingers searches for a flight home. (...how could I still be thinking of collecting air mileage and upgrades at a moment of intense despair...?

My ex appeared, hugged me so intensely, tried to calm me down and searched for a ticket home for me. I began to break down even more by his touch, began to sob uncontrollably. Images of mum in her final moments appeared before my eyes and haunted me so... Mum and her body writhing in pain and discomfort. Images of her opening and closing her mouth trying to cry out for help, but then only her mouth moved and no sound came...
In the dream, I was not there! Not there by her side! I could not comfort her, could not take away her fears with my touch and with my presence...

As my ex held me, I let out a long howl. It was beast-like that sound. So loud and so intense with emotions of pain, remorse and guilt... I realised (in my dream) I could not go home to even give mum a proper funeral. I realised (in the dream) the government had penalized me for overstaying my previous visa and that I could not go back for a year for any reason...

I howled and howled. The pain rocked through my body. "Mum... Mum... I've failed you so...." I cried out, and the tears just streamed like a river down my face. My hands reached out to touch her imaginary body as images of her dying moments flooded my mind and senses... How I longed for her touch, how I longed for the warmth of her body and soft sound of her motherly voice, the same voice that shows me so love and compassion, showed me the unconditional and boundless true love no one else  has shown me, and no one else could ever possibly match... My ex was trying to calm me, I saw him crying and hurting too. But I myself was hurting and howling beyond consolation... "Mum, I'm so sorry I'm not there for you..." I cried out loud.

The tears were so real, so intense for several moments after the dream shook me awake, I lay in the bed and felt my heart ache and felt the tears down my face. Then reality took over. It was all a dream. But far too real, with emotions far too close to those I feel and felt in the real world.

As consciousness and awareness slowly came to me, I realised I was in the dark room alone and it was another night of sleep disturbed. I realised again mum is gone, and that the person who gave much of the support and reassurance and love I so needed and that made me so strong is gone too. Did I push him  away? I gave him everything, and now feel now like I have nothing, no one. Was he simply too exhausted by intensity of my life and all that came my way in the past few years?

That realisation hurt and made me shake more than in the dream.

Fear of my own home

My own home, my only real home in the world, and yet I am hesitant and reluctant to return to it. Why must I go into hiding? What shame and guilt do I feel? Why do I feel shame at all? Why must I wander the world feeling so empty and so tormented by images and thoughts and memories of a friendship/relationship I poured my heart into? Does the other person know how I am feeling or why I am aching? I harbour no hatred, just disbelief and disappointment. And my own home feels like it's saturated with memories of our four years together, and for such a long time seemed to forecast the kind of home (with a cat and all these soft animals!) we could establish together! But did he share those dreams? Does he share those dreams still?
My mind aches so .l\l and long for my own home... I am tired of wandering the streets. So tired of feeling los]

I had a dream

"There was a time when men were kind,
And their voices were soft,
And their words inviting.
There was a time when love was blind,
And the world was a song,
And the song was exciting.
There was a time when it all went wrong...

I dreamed a dream in time gone by,
When hope was high and life, worth living.
I dreamed that love would never die,
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.
Then I was young and unafraid,
And dreams were made and used and wasted.
There was no ransom to be paid,
No song unsung, no wine, untasted.

But the tigers come at night,
With their voices soft as thunder,
As they tear your hope apart,
And they turn your dream to shame."

Happy new year

New Year's Eve. Alone at this very moment in some foreign room in the middle of nowhere. Hiding. Hiding from what? Hurt? The past? Confrontation? Hiding so I don't have to hurt anymore than I have been over the course of this year? I can't hide forever. Why do I have to hide while someone else seems to be oblivious to the pain I feel inside?

It's been a tough year. Tough doesn't quite describe it. After seemingly endless days and nights of watching mum suffer, she left this world, left this void in me. I struggle to cope, and am slowly recovering, but it'll take time and support. Brother has his family and his life. I called them at a time I knew my nephew would still be awake. It was so touching to see them, to see my nephew sitting on the sofa and waiting for his nightly ice cream... I almost cried seeing how happy they are. Almost cried because I could not tell them how I suddenly ran out of my own home and am now in hiding...

 I should count my blessings for I have my health, I have means, an education, a job, a future. But I have tears too.

Loss. Pain. Sorrow. Images. Memories. Angry exchanges with my ex. Mum's last words to me as she gasped for breath. Moments of intimacy and longings that feel so surreal and distant now. Holding mum's hand and smiling at her to soothe her pain, but crying deep down inside. My mind is tortured, restless and so emotional. On top of it all, I feel this Terrible fatigue from having slept so poorly and so little ever since I ran away from home two days earlier. My heart aches with loneliness and longing. Where is the calm and peace I found during my travels barely a month ago?

I should not wallow in self pity. This is the lot of my life. Perhaps this is the karma I must experience and reap from what evil deeds I have done. But I really have given myself to those I love dearly, those I love dearer than myself... In the end, nothing is mine, nothing I really own. Everything falls apart, everyone leaves and fades away.

New Year's Eve. A year is ending, another about to begin.

May I have a happy new year? Dare I even wish that? All I want is calm, some peace, a dear one who is truthful to me, who can give me the affection and love I have so longed for.
Maybe this is all too much to ask for.

Mum, I'm sorry that you must see me in such sorry state. I promised you I'd be strong and make you proud. But I seem to have failed my promises to you, seem to have been propelled to the depths of despair and to some foreign place...

Happy new year.
May I be happy, may I have some semblance of peace. For once, I wish for something for myself, for once I need to be selfish and ask for some semblance of happiness and peace too...

Happy new year.
May the world be at peace, may all beings be at ease.
May my family, my friends, and most of all my ex, be  truly happy and free... 

Last year

I closed my eyes and tried to rest my tired body and mind. And out of nowhere appeared the memory... One year ago, mum lying next to me, days after her spinal surgery.
http://alternativeformosa.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html?m=1
The rush home. The anxiety and agony and fear of losing her. Hearing her groan at night from the wound around her neck. Helping her with a bedpan. Holding her hand and telling her to be strong, pretending myself I was strong for her. Sleeping rough at the hospital all those nights... That was a year ago, but the memory made it so real again, made me cry uncontrollably.

Mum, I miss you so...
I hope I have taken care of you and eased your pain then at the hospital last year....
I hope you are watching me and still proud of me, still loving me from afar...

Please protect  me me from sorrows of the past, and from the emptiness of being alone.

At the hostel

291212.2234

Who would have thought four years and almost four months since I last checked into this hostel in downtown, I would be here again?

I wandered around in the snow, wondering where to go. I didn't want to go home. My ex could still be there, and if not, his things are still there. What happened in the last few hours? Crying, sitting alone at the office, trying to keep busy and my mind off of things... What began as a beautiful morning in bed watching a comedy series together ended up ending our friendship. I'm not sure where I should go now, or what I should do in the coming few days...

It's just very sad that on a cold snowy night, I am spending the night at a hostel even though I have a home I could go back to... A home I've been longing to go back to for the past few weeks now...

“When a letting go occurred, everything was light, the self-importance of despair was humorous, and you wondered how you could have forgotten that [...] “The whole trap was set around “I am”: the need to get life under control by figuring it out or attaining something.  This is deathlessness: the freedom of the heart through nonclinging,” said the Buddha.”
 Ajahn Sucitto &Nick Scott. “Rude Awakenings.”


How much can the heart ache?
How much can you lose over the span of a few months?
I should count my blessings that I'm still alive and still breathing. But in being alive and breathing, I am aching too.

Let go. Let go...

Farewell...

I threw up. Felt so sickened that food poured out of my mouth. And for a while after that, my stomach felt so uneasy and in pain.

I cried. Throwing up beings up traumatic memories, of mum those months ago, of me gagging as I watched up crouch next to the toilet bowl but still needed to pull myself together and suppress the emotions. I've been gagging a lot these few months, often from stress and uneasiness, and more recently from the food during my travels. But this time, it was the realisation that things are not as they seem, that I've been living a self-made fantasy and lie that made me gag and throw up.

My ex cried, and cried. This is really the end. Irreparable. There's a reason behind his lack of response to my letters and emails about how much I care about him and love him. There's a reason why lying next to him, he seems to unresponsive to my touches and soft little words...

He still cannot let go of the relationship he said ended few months ago. Still cannot let go of someone he told me and others with whom he sees no future. Perhaps because what he has found is so much better than me, even if I've really given him all I ever give to anyone. My affection, my love, my darkest secrets, my fears and dreams... But it's not enough. Or at least our time has passed. He's found something, someone, better, and I am just...  I don't know what or who I am anymore.

Doesn't matter, does it? but it does hurt...

On my travels, more often than to my own mother who gave me life and raised me, my thoughts turned to him. Imagined him by my side, imagined him holding my hand and making a new beginning together. I wished him peace and happiness, love and joy, and imagined I could give him all that. But he's getting it from another. I did think, before the Buddha where I sat and meditated some mornings, perhaps it's not meant to be...

He cried and cried. Cried about how I dont understand how he really feels, how he loves me still. But how can you continuously tell someone you love him, hold him and hug him affectionately yet still be involved with another? I do not understand. Is it not dishonest? Is it not foolish yourself and others?

He Cried about how so many nights he still lies awake with guilt and with images of illness and my mum haunting him. I know he cares deeply, that he has tried to comfort me and be there for me, but at some point he became distant, perhaps absorbed by his own worries and problems, and I felt I could no longer bother him or turn to him with talk of death and illness. Some time down the line, people are bound to tire from seeing me cry and be down and depressed...

I cried, but was more in shock and disbelief than anything else. All that he told me, all those words he wrote me...? Do they mean so little? Are they just to placate me and keep things at bay? Just to keep me around and not to hurt me with the truth and reality that he's already moved on?

I know, I hurt him too. I tried to break his relationship. I tried to make him love me the way I want to be loved. And perhaps that is my failing: loving him the wrong way, expecting too much from someone who's already tried to tell me he just wants to be friends... I feel guilty still for all the ways I've wronged him and hurt him, and those around him, and I asked him to forgive me, and not to hate me as we part ways... I do not hate him, but am just deeply disappointed and hurt by him, perhaps because I expected too much...

This is the end, is it not? After four years, countless nights lying next to one another, so many gifts and soft little words exchanged and trips taken together, is this the end? Did I kill our relationship and last ditch at friendship? Did my concerns about cancer and not being able to be there for mum fully if I involved myself in a relationship make the bond that was so strong and so deep expire?  Did I smother the love with my uncertainties and insecurities and push him away far too long, as he says I did? He says I've been so ungrateful for all the sacrifices he's made for me. Are they sacrifices if he says he truly loves me and truly wishes to be there for me? Is the

What does it matter now? He has someone, he has it all, and now he's free from me. Was it all calculated and planned? Someone was bound to get hurt and lose it all. It's me. And what do I have but shame and more loss to mourn over? Loss that feels so painful and that makes me cry more than when I lost my own mother.

It's perhaps about time, for we have stood in each other's way for far too long. I have lived far too long in a fantasy and dream that one day, after the death and losses, tears and arguments, we would come together stronger than ever before. He made me believe it, he gave me hints and hope and told me to be patient while he deals with his unresolved issues. He was there days after my mum's funeral hugging me, reassuring me how he loves me so and how much he wants to end his relationship, which he himself said had no future, to be with me. To be with me, to finally be together without baggage, to build on something we both know we need and have longed for so much.

Were they lies, sweet little lies? In the end, he has it all, a boyfriend and me on the side he can turn to for support and comforting hugs, so why does he have to change anything? Why did I let the situation prolong? Why do our mutual friends indulge in his behaviour when they know and see how he's playing with people's hearts and lives? Why do I have to fear about being trapped in the butt of people's gossip and jokes? Oh, I hear their laughter, and it adds salt to the wound.

With time, things will fade, and I will be forgotten. And I will perhaps forget, one day. One day forget... It is just so painful, so horrible and painful to have to deal with the mum's death, and now the loss of the one true best friend and soul mate I thought I've ever had. That is what hurts most of all...

But is this not the way things are? Is that not what the reality is and how the world changes and turns?

I need to be strong, need to hold myself and love myself and tell myself I will love again. I need to do it for my mum, for the sake of that promise on the little note on the kitchen cupboard: "Mama [...] i will take more of myself".

I need to do it for my own sake, for my own life. I need to do it so I can live, fully live again after all these years of uncertainties and pains.

I need to be strong and take care of myself... I must.

I must... I must.

And I must let go. Only in letting go can I ever hope to have anything at all.

pain...

Operation Eternal...?

Operation Eternal...?
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My friend and I were on the metro. One thing led to another, he mentioned "Operation Eternal Happiness", and unexpectedly those words struck a painful chord deep down inside. I looked away and tried hard to compose myself and prevent my tears from falling. I failed...

I wish I could be stronger, wish there were not "mines" that would trigger me to drop suddenly into sadness. Because I hate to see my feelings affect those of my friend. He cried with me, and though I wiped away the tears from his face, he shed some more. We hugged, and for a few moments bonded over my late mother. Memories of mum in the hospital, of us watching DVDs together, of mum's chest heaving as she gasped for breath came flooding back. Operation Eternal Happiness was, despite the name, difficult and long. But at least it seemed to have succeeded, and the end was indeed memorable and joyful.

I don't know what made my friend cry. But for so many years, he was there to support me. And he was there at the end, at the funeral when we bid our final farewell to mum.

"Mama, thank you. I will take care of myself more..." I wrote that note, a promise to her and to myself, and now it's taped to the door of a drawer in my kitchen and surrounded by pictures of mum in various places and poses. It's supposed to give me strength when I see the note everyday. But today, seeing it made me weak and cry...

Yes, I will try to take care of myself more, try to go on even though mum has left this world.

Night out

The music and colourful display of human dexterity and ingenuity touched me. The Cirque du Soleil never disappoints and always inspires and moves you. I watched the performances of such hardworking acrobats, and was awed. And saddened. The last time I watched something similar was with mum, albeit on a DVD, at the hospice...

At one point I was moved to tears. Mum and I have been to two live shows together, and the last one, we watched over the course of two days, at lunch time if I remember correctly. She was already close to the end, but I tried hard to inspire her, amaze her, instill her worn mind and body with whatever sense of amazement and wonder I imagined the Cirque could bring her. It worked, if only for a few brief moments. I remember mum watched in awe and at times did not blink, for in blinking you risk missing amazing moments of each well choreographed act...

"Did you like it?" I asked her. She nodded excitedly. We watched "Alegria", the classic show the name of which means "jubilation" in Spanish. The theme song is one of my favorite of all times:

"Alegria
I see a spark of life shining
Alegria
I hear a young minstrel sing
Alegria
Beautiful roaring scream
Of joy and sorrow,
So extreme
There is a love in me raging
Alegria
A joyous,
Magical feeling"

And tonight, I asked my ex the same words: "Did you like it?" He nodded, and on his face was a clear sense of delight and enjoyment.

A year ago

A year ago today, I was on the plane back to Taiwan. A sudden call in the middle of the night. Call from my cousin. Mum was hospitalised. Due for imminent surgery. My heart was racing, my mind was a mess and so disturbed. But outwardly, I maintained a calm that surprised my friends who gathered at my house and accompanied me through several hours of searching for a last minute ticket home and frantic packing.

That was the beginning of the end. The 27th of December. Beginning of several months of staying by my dear mum's side and hoping for her recovery. Surgery, rehab, physio, discharged, cyber knife, vomiting, hospitalisation, growing ever thinner, bypass Surgery, declining appetite... Hospice, and the end, the very end of Operation Eternal Happiness...

That all began a year ago. How much has happened... I am crying at the thoughts, at the painful memories, at the pain and the hopelessness and loneliness I felt those days and nights I spent at the hospital...My god, what have I gone through... Who really knows and understands how I feel, and why I seem to have slowed down and become so numb since last year. It was a difficult year, it has been so tough on my body and my mind.

But I'm still alive. Crying at times, as I'm crying now as I'm typing these words, but it's all over.

Now I can close my eyes and tell myself, it's all over.

It's all over...

Snowstorm

I've almost forgotten what it's like to deal with snow. It's been over a year since I've had to deal with real Canadian winter. And I've not really had to live throughout winter since I came to Canada four years ago. Last year, just as winter was approaching, I was suddenly called home...

The snow is beautiful, at least from a far. But when you are knee deep in it, it fills your socks, wets the ends of your trousers and gets in your face and ears, chilling every uncovered bit of your body. I left the house, thinking I'd already shoveled snow an hour or two earlier. But within that time, all trace of my earlier effort was subsumed by almost a metre of snow... Winter can be harsh, and the snow storm knows at times no end.

But when you're at home, looking out the window, and lying in bed with another person, winter does not seem so harsh anymore...

AMS-EWR-YUL

AMS-EWR-YUL

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Second day of Christmas, and what a long day and long trip it has been.

Already from checking in at AMS this morning, I had to buy a new suitcase because one of mine was overweight. It's ridiculous, because all I did was spread the things I wanted to carry into a new bag. I don't know if it's due to labour regulations that each item must not exceed 32kg... But a guy in front of me had 36kg and be passed through without a problem. Well, I did exceed the allowance by almost 10kg, so I can't really complain...

And then arriving at Newark, I had to wait over three and a half hours because my original flight was delayed. I was rebooked on AirCanada (originally United) and because I was flying a different airline, different luggage policies apply. My suitcase exceeded the allowance by two pounds. Yes, two whole pounds.

"You have to remove some items, sir. It's our luggage policy..." Two pounds. I grumbled, but the lady was adamant policy is policy. In the end, right there at the checkin counter, I opened my suitcase, took out a pair of jeans and a jacket. The second time I had to do that and work up a sweat before boarding the plane.

"There..." That finally satisfied the checkin counter lady.

I am exhausted... I am just so looking forward to going home, going back to my own home, for it's been a month, but feels so much longer than that. But then there's the immigration hurdle I need to overcome, tell them I'm "visiting" when I've got three suitcases, one of which has a vacuum cleaner. Who visits a country with a vacuum cleaner, I wonder...

I look forward to going home, but I won't be alone. My ex will be there. He's been staying at my place for the past month or so in my absence. How will it be, I wonder? My idealist and dreamy mind imagines intimacy and intense bonding, for it has been so long, and I think of him a lot. but then again, who knows what he has been up to, whether he thinks of me still in the same way, and whether he's consciously or not playing with my heart again...?

Back home again

First day alone at home. Outside, a fierce snow storm is brewing. I've never seen snow like this in the four years in Canada (granted, I've rarely been here for the Winter months...) Even my friends say it's bizarre this amount of snow...

A few moments I am alone at home, my own home. It's been pleasant, as my ex moved into the spare bedroom while I was away. And despite things unsaid and unclarified, it feels good to hug someone, to touch someone softly, and fall asleep next to his warm, warm body...

It feels like a dream...

Teenage years...

The railway tracks, I saw, turned into the distance. I know where they are headed to... Hoek van Holland.

A flood of memories washed over me... The ferry to the UK... First time going overseas to study. Seventeen years old. Two large suitcases. Train, ferry, another train to downtown London. How excited I was, but also a little scared. Young, innocent, daring. Perhaps foolish too. The world opened before me, as did the challenges of university, and relationships.

The railway tracks disappeared... Conveyor belt, dad visiting once and taking with him a large vacuum cleaner (coincidentally, I'm carrying with me a vacuum cleaner back to Canada in two days' time), traveling with mum once on board the ferry... Rough seas, seagulls accompanying the ferry, nostalgia, McDonalds on board, fries, doing homework on board. Stena Line. The ferry service has been suspended, probably because of lack of passengers. Who can compete with low budget airlines or the high speed rail? But for those few years, the ferry was a ferry between the country where I grew up, and the country I was studying in. Those days, journeying on the ferry seemed like such an adventure...

Who would have known, a decade later, flying great distances around the world would become a norm of some sorts for me... Memories of mum and dad however are etched in the depths and waves of the rough North Sea...

I managed to get in touch with my former Chinese teacher a few days ago. Every Saturday for over a decade, I would attend a few hours of Mandarin lessons. I hated it, to be honest. I never got good grades, never really studied, rejoiced when it was a weekend without class. And I was an outcast in the class. But the teacher was patient, and cared about me. She not only kept encouraging me, she pushed me and sometimes she would even bring me food, seeing as I was all by myself for two years or so (after brother left to go study...)

I last saw her about five, six years ago, when I was still in the UK studying. Part of the reason was because she was always so zealous about Christianity, which can be off-putting (in this respects, she hasn't really changed...)

She cried when she saw me, cried a few times in the two hours I visited. So much has happened in the last couple of years. Mum, dad, both gone... But I am alright. Relatively alright. Still single, still doing alright in life overall. She is so proud of me, proud of my achievements and remembers clearly I was always so quiet and kept to myself... Those were the reclusive years, and years when I was dealing with the trauma from the past, and also separation from my parents. I was a teenager, a very lonely teen who longed so much for love and affection, but never a troubled one, I don't think. But I pulled through. Pulled through and am still, somehow, amazingly perhaps, smiling. That takes a lot of courage and strength. And despite the pain and loneliness, I am not bitter, at Least I don't think so. Despite all else, i do still appreciate and am grateful for all those who have aided me on the way...

I smiled at the sight of the train tracks disappearing into the distance, toward the port of Hoek van Holland. But the smile hides also a tinge of sadness, at the innocence I have lost over the years, and at the sadness and pain I've had to overcome in recent times.

Lost

All my writings... All those hours I put into writing down my thoughts and impressions of the past two weeks...

Lost... Lost!

Lost!!!

Feel terrible... And made worse by really unstable Internet connection, which has been the case for almost a month now... Didn't realise I would have the same problem even at my brother's place in Europe!

All that work and effort and time for nothing.

Lost...

Christmas Eve

I rushed home to cook dinner, braised duck breast, asparagus and leek and mushroom ragout. To finish it off, apple crumble pie.

My brother kept on complaining the duck was overcooked. My nephew was somehow wild and unruly tonight, especially after opening his gifts.

It was pleasant while it lasted, and most of  the attention was on the baby. He got so many gifts, from his dad and his mum, and also from his uncle... Lots of books, and even a colourful wooden carving I bought with mum in Halifax last July. The boy was so excited that it took him till well past his bed time to fall asleep, after a long and severe crying session that really tested the patience of both his parents...

After the baby fell asleep, that's Christmas Eve over. My brother's downstairs using his computer, my sister-in-law is probably already sleeping. Like any other day really... I think they even had an argument about the baby and his crying. I feel the tension...

Maybe I've fantasised too much about Christmas, about how I'd like it to be... A loving atmosphere with the people you care about most... Warm, with family, laughing, sharing lives and talking about what we've been through all these years, what we've been through this year especially. Shouldn't time together as a family be about sharing and being together, instead each person doing his/her own thing?

But no, it feels really cold and lonely. I'm up in my room, packing my bags for the day after when I have to leave...

I think I've probably overstayed my welcome as well... It's been almost ten days, time to go home...