Reality of loss

I wish someone could understand... really understand.

“You don’t know the first thing about loss, do you? … It isn’t something you can get over in a week’s time. It lives with you for the rest of your life. Just when you think you’ve got everything exactly where you dreamt it would be, it’s gone. Maybe a few memories can bring back the odd warm smile, but the reality is really very different. Loss is always hungry … it’s always looking to eat away at you.”

Crying

He's crying...

I'm crying...

Why?

Why does it have to be so complicated? 

Why can I not let go and just move on? 

Why do I feel so much bitterness and anger, towards myself, towards everything? 

He's crying. He hung up the phone. Who am I to call back and ask "how are you?" When I was the one to make him cry? 

And who is to know, who cares, if I'm crying again or why I cry? Death, loss, love, hope, personal sense of insecurity... Why does it matter? Why do I make such big deals out of every bring?

And what is the most ridiculous thing? Nothing matters. Nothing will matter in a month. Nothing will matter at the end of my life. Nothing matters and nobody will ever remember why two people separated by so much distance in two cities were crying on this very night...

Cruel. Painfully cruel. 

Sleepless

When you close your eyes, you do not feel, do not think, do not hurt.

When you close your eyes, you do not feel loneliness, do not long for another person's touch, do not hurt from imagining the impossible and drowning in fantasies.

When you close your eyes, you do not need to fear, you do not need to succeed, you do not  feel failure or remorse or anger or jealousy or abandonment or such tiredness that weighs so heavily on you. You do not wait and wait and wait and hold on to the dreams and promises of the past.

When you close your eyes and believe no more, the world is all quiet. All so quiet. 

Abandonment

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On board the flight, one of two heading back to Montreal. It's been over three weeks away from home, and I'm looking forward to going home. It's been a long month, filled with travels to nostalgic and new places, days on end of cramming for an exam, the topic of which touched many raw nerves, and lots of soul searching...

As I leave Vancouver, I reflect on the first time this city left its charm on me. Almost five years ago, in the middle of winter in 2009. I loved the city at first visit, even though it was merely a three hour (or so) stopover. The city, the mountains, ocean... Later visits (and there have been close to eight...) introduced me to more of the city's charm and friendliness, including some of the locals. 

I cannot describe why I feel this sense of attraction toward this city ( despite the large presence of  Asians in the population which often strikes me as surreal and at times (as strange as it may sound...) annoying). Here, I feel I could begin a life away from the people back east, away from the shadows of a painful (and ever lingering...) break up with an estranged partner and away from ever distant friendships in the very small circle of friends. I cannot describe why I feel so uncomfortable, so fake among the people who for so long I felt were so close and like family to me. I cannot describe why I feel this sense of betrayal knowing that in front of you people seem so nice, but behind it they grovel and criticize you... It's toxic. It makes me feel so unwanted, and Makes me wonder why go through life with people you don't want to pretend to like spending time with. 

In Vancouver, I feel I can get away from the shadows of loss and tears, get away from jealousies and misunderstandings, and begin life anew tabula rasa. I need that, I want that. I need a new beginning, a fresh start after all that I have gone through, even if people may not understand why or how. I need a change, want a change now more am than ever, and how pertinent today is fifth anniversary of my arrival in Canada. 

Is it a case of romance syndrome, whereby you tend to think (or imagine...) everything away from where you normally live  as being better and grander? I don't know, but I would like to think my attraction to Vancouver and BC goes deeper than that... At least I hope so.  I really hope so. Is it me trying to run away, run away from things and people I would rather not face? 

I cannot wait to begin the process of finding my footing and moving and getting away. 

Disturbance...

Alone

I was petrified. There were sounds coming from behind my closed bedroom door. I got up and sat in my bed. In the dark, I felt around my bed. It was as if I was looking for someone, but there was no one to be found. 

I cried out. Quietly at first. Then, louder, I  called out someone's name. There was no reply. I started to scream, shrieking from fear. It was so petrifying and I longed for someone to come protect me from harm. But there was no one. No one... 

Loss

 "where's that year gone?"

"Slowly..."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Nothing, that's what makes it so hard..."

Kingdom

“How would I know?”

“When you realise you couldn’t live without him. When you know that they're the other half of you that’s always been missing. And the moment you’re not with them, your whole life empties…”

 

He struck my face I was stunned by move. For too long, nobody has ever hit me or abused me. The only exception was my brother. And here he was again, slapping me across the face..

"How can you hit me?! HOW?! HOW CAN YOU HIT ME?!" I screamed, "You hit me and tortured me as a child, and now you hit me again?!" I was distraught and on the verge of breakdown. My body was burning with heat, passion and anger. "Not even my mother hit me!"

I woke up crying, and so extremely tired, even more so than befoe I slept...

Void

I sat some distance away from friends I was with. I needed a few moments alone. Alone with my thoughts, moments to shut away the laughs and smiles and to recollect myself and events of the past five years. 

It's five years to the day since I arrived in Canada. Such a foreign country it was back then, so vast, so unexplored... And now? There's so much more to discover... So much more. So much more to see...

I looked into the horizon , at the sun about to set over the pacific. I looked back at my friends who sat some distance away. They have been two people who enriched my life in the past five years in different ways. I smiled at them and thanked them silently... They looked and appeared to be so far away. 

I looked again at the horizon, at the vast and endless horizon. Despite the feelings of gratitude having been in this country for so long, I felt this sudden pang of loneliness and insecurity. What am I doing now, five years on? What have I done in five years? Did it matter at all? How have I changed the world or the lives of those around me? 

My thoughts could not help it but drift to mum and dad, whose remains now lay across the Pacific... If they could see me now... If they could see their child now, sitting alone on a log on a beach watch ing the sun set, temporarily lost in thought, perpetually lost in life and searching for a sense of direction and belonging... What disgrace!

I closed my eyes and breathed in heavily. I could smell the ocean, hear the gentle waves as they broke on the shoreline. I  could not really fight it. That urge to speak to my parents, that urge to speak my mind, unleash the thoughts that I really cannot tell anyone because nobody can really ever understand or care to understand. I closed my eyes and imagined the feel of the  touch of someone who can show me again what love is, and what it is to love and be loved in return... Feelings i've longed for since a child... Feelings I've longed for since those terrible dark days of abuse and being demeaned and treated like I am not worth anything. The feelings made my skin crawl. Seagulls cried close to me. 

I missed the way mum used to stroke the top of my head, the way dad used to put his hand behind my back when he walked next to me... How comforting those little gestures were.  I miss the way someone could hug me and make me so safe and so very comforted and soothed inside. How I have hardened, it feels like, over the past year, and feel like I have become so misunderstood. How I have stopped sharing, stopped talking, stopped feeling comfortable enough to talk and share. Why talk or share when personal feelings are easily dismissed or unrecognised? 

The sun was fading and losing its warmth. I breathed deep, and clenched the sand I grabbed in my hand. 

felt so aged, and so very, very tired and tested. I missed the care and depth of family ties, longed for a lover's touch, and real passion and intimacy. The setting sun made that feeling of isolation loneliness, that longing for company, for belonging, for family, even stronger. 

Five years in Canada. I have so much, so much. how ungrateful i must sound like, how whiny and so unappreciative of all that I have, for I have it so easy not to have to worry too much about food or shelter or clothing or finances. But I feel so empty inside.  I feel so very empty inside. 

The void hurts and is frustrated and angry, unpredictable and impatient. it is breaking me little by little.  

I look forward to being lifted up and energised again... 

Nephew's birthday...

It was beautiful to Skype with my little nephew on his second birthday. He's grown so much, become such a beautiful  boy with such a clever mischievous air surrounding him. 

He was shy at first, and clung closely to his mother. Occasionally he looked into the screen at this talking stranger who kept on calling him. He looked curious, he seemed to want to stay around and play, but he looked shy. Minutes later, he warmed up a bit, little by little, and he started to place his little wooden cars in front of the screen, as if inviting me to play with him. Sweet... Touching... Made me smile. And I needed a reason to really smile.

In his eyes and features were clear traces of his dad... In his movements, in the way he walked and babbled, I saw memories of his grandma... How this little being brought so much joy and innocence into our lives! How my nephew made the most difficult months and year of mum's life, and perhaps my life to date, so much more bearable by just being around and being the beautiful joy and boy he is... So many times at the hospital, whenever he came to visit, I silently thanked him for giving mum a reason to live just that much longer... How she smiled and pushed herself through physio and to regain her mobility again after her surgery... How she closed her eyes and smiled whenever he came to have lunch with her at the hospice ("death ward"...) even as her breathing and will to live became so laboured... 

Oh, little J., what a blessing you have been, and how much you have given us...

New beginning

Sunset, eve of my fifth year in Canada.

Where the sun sets, it rises elsewhere.

A new day is about to begin.

Parents

240813.1933

"Where do your parents live?"

"They're no longer around..."

"I'm so sorry... You're so young." Then the award silence. One that leaves me wondering whether I should reveal that they died of illness, died of cancer of all the things that can kill you. I'm sure people are curious to know how and when and why. 

I understand why people ask this question. It's a normal thing to ask someone who still looks like a youngster, even though I'm close to thirty now. In fact, the middle aged lady with her husband and daughter said I could be her son's age. I could be indeed. 

It's normal to say "you're so young", and I've heard it so many times since mum died last year. I can understand why people say that. Parents are supposed to live till they're seventy, eighty or even ninety these days. Parents are still supposed to be around when you have a family, when you get married or when you have children. But mine are not, mine are never going to be. And I must life with that. As much as it pains me to be reminded of their absence, I must live with the fact that I am parentless. And it kills me still, even more when inan reminded of it. That absence, that hollow void in my life, the fact that I cannot just pick up the phone and call someone I care and love so much and who loves and cares about me in return..., the fact that I do no have a home, a family, I can go back to, kills, and is eating me up still.

Most difficult is when I see children holding their mum or dad's hand... Or when I see people laugh and sit around a table with their parents. You know how beautiful that sight is? You know how beautiful that experience is to be surrounded by family? You only will realise it when it is gone. You only fully appreciate it when all you can do is look back and reminisce and dream, dream, day dream of one day building your own family with someone you care and love and who cares and loves you back. Oh, that day, that day...

"You're so young..." I know it comes from sympathy, compassion, pity perhaps. But how old are you supposed to be when you should lose your parent? Is there an optimum age or time to lose your parent? I wonder when people will stop saying that... I do wonder when it is when people will no longer ask where my parents are, because it is assumed that they are no longer around. 

Will I even live that long? 

Dream

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Ist t it lovely?

Isn't it wonderful?

Isn't it the most beautiful thing in the world?

Isn't it grand? 

Isn't it swell?

Isn't it all you'd ever hoped for, and more? 

It is, it's all an illusion, all Illusory, all a dream best lived and dreamed when your eyes are closed, when your heart warms with warmth and feelings of familiarity... 

For when  you open your eyes again, it is all gone, all subject to change. 

When you open you eyes again, you realise how alone you are in the world.

"Is she better now?"

A friend of my aunt's came by, and I opened the door. She was so kind to drop by and bring lots of food, knowing that my aunt is returning today with my cousins. 

We chit chatted a bit, she asked how I've been here these few weeks. She said she's heard so much about me, how "good" I am...

"How's your mother? Is she doing better..."

I smiled, and politely replied she is no longer around. Behind that smile, I wanted to cry... 

I know she meant well, and she didnt know. however devastating mum's death is to my world, it's not the end of the world. It's not even newsworthy. 

I closed my eyes a few moments after she left and let the tears flow. Another moment, another moment of me crying quietly on my own. 

With each tear I shed, I grow stronger. 

Don't I?

Heal...

At the station I saw a lady with a bag, on the front of which is written "Love heals..."  I smiled when I saw that. And what a coincidence that the lady was assigned to the see right next to me.

Love heals. Love heals. It does, does it not? Love comes in so many ways, exists in so many forms, and rarely in the way you expect it or want it to be. But however love manifests itself, you should be content with what you have. Shouldn't you?

As mum's life slowly, I resolutely told myself to give my all. Give her all my love, affection and care so she can (and I hope she did...) leave this world surrounded by love and warmth. I gave my all. Not wanting anything in return, but being human and self-interested of course I hoped and dreamed that after losing perhaps the strongest kind of love one will ever encounter in life, that between a mother and child, I needed to find something to make me heal. To date, more than a year on, I am still feeling so empty, so very empty inside. 

Yes, losing mum was a deep cut and trauma to my life, to my psyche. And is it too much to expect or hope for love to heal me, to protect me, to remind me of the reasons and purposes of living and life? This past year has been so turbulent, perhaps the most difficult struggle was coping with loss-- loss of loved one and loss of the certainty and promises of love. 

Love heals. But I have been so painfully left wanting, longing, and looking for it in vain in strangers, in friends, in family. I cannot explain why the bag with "Love heals" stood out in the midst of so many bags in the station hall. I cannot explain why that bag with "Love heals" spoke to my heart and spoke my mind. And I cannot explain why that bag in a way seemed to be mocking me. 

For so long, I feel so rejected, so abandoned and alone in my struggle to cope with grief. Why does it have to be like this? why has it been like this? Is it too much to find someone who will listen, who will empathize, who will not push me and tell me to "get on with things"? Is it too much to ask for understanding and compassion? Nowadays nobody asks how I am doing, they just assume I'm fine now because I have this wry smile on my face. People just assume I'm all right and healed now because I've been working and studying and taking exams. If only they knew how much of a struggle it has all been... If only they knew how difficult it is to fall asleep at night and find a reason to get up and get dressed in the morning...

When I think of the way so many friends have become so distant, even to the extent of saying I'm behaving and being "strange" in the aftermath of losing my mum, I cannot but feel so sad... Friends you thought were made for life cannot be/ are not even there in the face of death. Are they really friends at all? Why do I feel the need to get away so often? Why do I feel the need to find a new home and move? Because the city, the circle of friends, I have sought refuge in in the past five years have become so estranged, so very distant. 

Is it me? Am I too demanding, too focused on wanting a particular way and form of love, believing and thinking (falsely perhaps...) that love can heal me, lift me up and make me whole again? 

Love heals. 

Heal me... I need to heal myself.

So many dreams with mum and dad in them... In the latest one, mum was coming to Montreal and I was excitedly waiting at the airport to pick her up... Events that echoed something that happened in 2008...

I miss my parents... I miss having ueberhaupt having parents and a family...

Strange dream

I woke up and felt so sick. After a quick breakfast I just had to lie down again because I felt so dizzy and unwell...

I was not alone in my sleep. I saw myself with someone, and it was so lovely. I think I have forgotten what it feels like to hold someone and be held, it's been far too long... Far far too long...

I don't know what happened, but the dream changed quickly, and I found myself in a home somewhere. It was such a strange place because I felt so at home there, even though I've never seen the place. Then, out of nowhere, mum appeared.

She was just as I remembered her, before illness crippled her and confined her to bed, before cancer made her so painfully thin, like someone interned at Auschwitz... She smiled at me, and came to me. She hugged me.

I woke up crying. 

Obscurity

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I decided the afternoon before. And in less than 12 hours I was on the train to Portland. 

For a long time I've wanted to take this special train. I was a fan of trains before (or maybe as well as...) a fan of planes. A a child, I took so many train journeys throughout Europe with mum (and to some extent also dad...). I remember with a month or so of moving to Europe, dad took the whole family on a three day trip on the (now defunct...) Benelux train. How excited I was. And even before that, I loved taking the train down to visit my relatives in the south and could already tell the difference between this and that express or local train at four or so. I got "lost" once, when dad took me to watch a municipal councillor  election speech. I was found by the police and had somehow found my way  to the train station. 

Back to now. I was excited to board the Cascades, the legendary train that travels from Vancouver BC down to Eugene-Springfield, OR, calling at Seattle, WA, and Vancouver (again!) on the way. After taking the Adirondack (Montreal, QC I New York, NY) and the Grand Canyon railway, this is the third of riding legendary railways of the US. 

The rolling stock was made in Spain, and what is unique is that two carriages share one wheel, which is supposed to allow the train to go faster and be more stable, especially around bends. Much of the scenery along the way follows Puget Sounds and the Georgia Straits, so you have these  views of islands with tall evergreens rising from the ocean that is so iconic of the Pacific Northwest. 

It felt good to be on the road again and to be riding the rails. The journey took over nine hours (with delays...) and passed so many small towns and forests. It felt good to be out in nature again, and reminded me of how much I want change in life. A change of people and things who/which matter. A change of place, a change of direction. 

I was exhausted from the night before, when I slept only two hours or so. But the excitement of being on a train kept me awake, at least during the first half of the journey. The latter half, I got out the computer and worked a bit until I could barely keep my eyes open. And for an hour or so I dozed off...

I arrived in Portland, my destination and home for the next three days. Nobody knows I'm here, and in some ways this sense of mystery and anonymity is comforting. Nobody really needs to know what I do here or why. Does anyone really care? I'm just someone who blends into the city and surroundings. Whenever I look back, I can see, all anyone can see is the absence of my presence here or anywhere. And that's alright.

I was so exhausted when I got to the hotel. After a dinner at an Americanised Chinese place, I went back to my room and rested. Who would have thought somehow the "tired" bug infected me and I could not get up at all. I had set my alarm for seven in the morning, and when I got up it was already half past nine. I missed my planned excursion to Cannon Beach. ( a trip that impromptu came into being after I noticed at the train station that you can take a coach there, a place a friend had shown me amazing pictures of the long tranquil beach and little islands that are like mountains along the coastline...) 

I felt nauseated and ill in the morning, and lay down to rest even more. By the time I was ready to leave the hotel, half the day was gone...

But I made good use of the other half. I went downtown to explore the "food pods", shacks congregated around certain squares of Portland selling all sorts of foods and delicacies in the style of "street food" common in asian countries. There were all sorts, from Egyptian to Greek, from Georgian to Thai, Vietnamese, Korean and even sushi bento boxes made fresh in front of you. Amazing. 

I rented a bike and explored what is nicknamed America"s bike capital. True to its name, there were all these bike trails, hundreds of kilometers in and around the city alone together with special lanes on busy thoroughfare. Really, there are special bike parking areas, designated areas at the front of the lane before a traffic light where bikers can wait safely . There are even lanes for (roller)skaters too! I was impressed, as this so much reminded me of back in the Netherlands, and there were so many other people on bikers too. 

I biked along the Willamette River and was taken aback by how clean and orderly the city is (At the same time, there are a lot of homeless people too, so many congregating around parks and wooded areas ...). And again it crossed my mind: the world is so big, with so much potential to explore. Why am I stuck in the same city I have been in for the past five years? 

Sleeplessness

I suddenly woke up after two hours of sleep and can sleep no more... 

Painful. My mind is so terribly agitated and disturbed. A conversation from a few hour earlier keeps playing in my head... It was about work, about being chained to work and being surrounded by people you don't really get along with yet must spend the vast majority of your days with because of "work". You have to work. To get money, to live, to survive in this world. 

I dread that day of having to go into some office and face people and things that do not interest me or that I have little passion about.  I dread becoming a droid and just being stuck in a dead-end job because there is nothing else. Work till you drop. Work till you die of illness, fatigue and/or old age. I saw it happen with my parents. I dread it happening with me.

It keeps me awake at night. Almost thirty, and where am I going? What am I doing with my life? Where is my career? Why do I care so little about career, fame, fortune or success? Why do I feel so inadequate compared with friends and people who are so advanced in their jobs and are making good money whereas I'm still dragging my feet and not fully realizing my potential? 

I cannot sleep. My life has so little meaning and is truly lacking purpose. And this is something I cannot share with anyone. 

It is done...

I did it. One more exam down, four more to go till I can qualify to take the bar. Do I want to do this? Do I really? I'm over half way through the qualification process. 

It was an exhausting process, in particular this exam. The subject matter, evidence, was difficult on its own, but more so due to my personal sensitivities (to put it mildly). For over a week I studied, but towards the end I was so drained and at times afraid to continue reading. It was intense.

My ex was very encouraging. He called every day to check on my process, and yesterday when I was on the brink of breaking down, as I was crying because of the way the subject matter affected me and threw into doubt whether I am suited to study law and pursue a career in it, he reminded me this all will pass. And it has. It's all over now. For now.

What made this entire process all the more difficult? I lost my purpose. I lack motivation and support. Why am I doing this? Why am I pushing myself to study something when I could, with my collection of degrees and language skills, do something I enjoy and that will not be as stressful? The question is what that something is. What? What? And for the lack of an answer I continue blindly onto this path towards a goal I do not even know if will bring me any benefit or real joy. 

I have lost my motivation and my drive. Lost the reason to continue, the reason to breathe and live for another day. I don't know if anyone sees it, or cares to see it. In front of people you must show this strong and stoic image, you must hide and pretend, because people don't want to see weakness, people don't want to know you're still hurt and wounded. It's why I've more or less stopped socialising with so many and choose to withdraw, to escape, to get away. When you are away from people, you do not have deal with judging eyes or comments behind your back. Yet all the more I long for company and companionship, long for understanding and someone with whom I can be fully myself...

The loss of my mum, and other losses I faced over the past few years, have really emptied me, have cleared me and robbed me of all purpose, all meaning, all feeling and passion. And the exams, and this difficult, difficult path to qualifying for the bar and becoming the  lawyer I really lack the confidence and ability in becoming, just accentuate and aggravate how lost and confused truly am inside. 

Left is an emptiness, a void I cannot fill. Left is this longing, this craving for company, for love, for companionship, for attention, for care that is so vast that it drives me to the brink of insanity and extremes of loneliness... What do I have left but laments and this void that devours my energy and my waking moments? 

Another exam done. "Normal" people would feel pride, joy, would go and celebrate and share with others the sense of accomplishment  and achievement they feel. But I feel nothing. I am only glad that it is all over. For the time being.

Exam eve

I don't know why or how... I just broke down and started crying.
Over a fricking exam. An exam! Why am I putting myself through this? Putting myself through an experience that is seriously undermining and collapse the relative calm and peace I have slowly built up over the past few months in finding some closure to losing mum...

 It's been a gruesome ten days of studying. At times studying and reading till I no longer could because of the extremely disheartening subject matter. Heart-wrenching and painful subject matter. Personal and sensitive subject matter. Things leave me so exhausted, so traumatised and so longing to just close my eyes and sleep so that I do not have to feel or think...

Am I weak or what?


No one, no one, no one, can know what I feel... No one can know what I feel.

Insanity

Why are afraid to close your eyes at night? 

Because you're afraid of someone breaking in... Because you're afraid of what (or more likely in my case, who...) you will see in your dreams. Dead people who are no longer around any more... Images of abuse, violence and horror. It is not pleasant. Not pleasant at all, and I am left so exhausted, so mentally exhausted and drained of all energy and motivation to do anything. This two days before an important exam...

I don't know how I got here, but this is a new low point. 

Think of me

Think of me.
Who will think of me?