Historic trip

 

I was packing my bags last night, and the heavier my little carry on luggage became, the heavier my emotions felt. It's just a little trip of a few days, which will go by so fast before I realise I'll be back home again. But it's the significance of the return, for I will be returning as a permanent resident. 

Five years (or so if you count the days I was away --- and there are many, many months) in Canada, and finally I received my permanent residence status. Nothing really changes, except my official status here, and to be honest my return may not be all that dramatic given the fact I'm not arriving in the country for the first time, but returning to a place I've more or less been calling home for the past five years.  My address has only changed once since I arrived in Canada, and it was literally to another address around the corner. 

I took two favourite items of clothing with me... a red Canada hoodie, and a tshirt with "Love" on the front, the same one that I wore on the day mum passed, and on the day of her funeral. I wanted to take an animal with me, but since the loss of my favourite bear, the one my mum gave me (still missing, and I know now forever gone...), there's really no other animal that is so special. Until I found a little "rainbow bear", one that I bought for myself three or four years back when I was back home in Taiwan. "Rainbow Bear" is special, I guess, because just before my nephew was born, mum bought two large towels with the character, and one she gave me. I still have it, drapped over my arm chair in my bedroom. It's been there since last year when I returned to Canada...

I took with me also a picture of mum and dad, with mum holding onto dad's arm... It will be very significant, very meaningful when I return in a few days' time and have my parents with me as I enter Canada...

crazy...

I began shouting, crying, banging my head on the wall. I had become mad, insane with anger and frustration. The person just stood there and watched, did nothing, said nothing. Just watched as, me, the  madman, go mad and bang his head incessantly. Before he would come grab me, hold me, comfort me. Now he just watches, shakes his head and smirks...

"Nobody understands! Nobody knows what it means to loose your loved ones one by one!" I screamed and was foaming. I sense of desperation was beyond words, the intensity of feeling so abandoned was too much for words. You know what is worst then feeling like nobody cares? When you  try to tell somebody about how you are feeling and the person shuts you up or diverts the conversation away.... when the person says to you "Is this the same feeling as before or something new?" as if your feelings are not worth recognising because he has heard it again and again...

I banged my head till I was faint, cried out for help and attention till I was coarse. And then I just collapsed.

Too much... too much. I cannot take it any more.

.

Nightmares...

Two extremely intense nightmares within the span of an hour...

The first one, I saw myself sobbing. The intensity was beyond words... I lay on the floor of my own apartment alone, huddled together like a wounded animal. I howled and cried, reached out into emptiness for comfort and solace. I was missing mum, missing dad. The intensity was simply beyond words.

How loss kills you... How loss affects you so deeply and robs you of joy, of the ability to muster strength and energy in the face of difficulties. How loss isolates you and puts you out of reach and the comprehension of people...

The next dream, I saw my cat. She was looking so sordid and sorry. A large patch of her normally black and beautiful coat had been bitten away. She was bleeding. She was suffering and moaning. I cried and tried to touch her, tried to comfort her, but she growled at me instead. She did not want to be touched. She was fatally wounded and dying...

chaning of the weather

There are moments when I feel like crying, when the silence of the night haunts me so, even though the radio is playing in the background, even though I have a lot of work to do...

There are moments when I see memories and images flash across my mind, when I see faces and smiles of dad, of mum, of the way we were, of the family I once had which all stand as a stark reminder of the isolation and the loneliness I feel all alone here in the world...

There are moments when I feel like cry, and even more, feel like and long for someone to appear out of nowhere to comfort me, to wipe away my tears and to tell me, remind me, to hold me and tell me "It'll all be alright..."

It will all be alright, because the loneliness will not last. It will all be alright, because someone cares, because someone understands and is there for me to listen without judging me... It will be alright, because there is someone who will hear what I want to express and empty out of my mind without throwing the my emotions and venting back at me as mere whinings and complaints of someone who has it too easy in life because I already have a roof, a job, and all I could ever wish for.

There are moments when I wish I could be surrounded again by the warmth of family, of celebrations, of laughter, of joy, of love, true love only family can provide and offer...

There are moments I cry, a whimper at first, then a sob, then a full unleashing of emotions and tears.

This is one of those moments.

Music and memories

I haven't heard this piece of music for such a long time. A twenty something minute long piece of chanting in Pali set to moving music. It is soulful, melancholic and beautifully soothing.

It brought a sudden sadness to my heart and unearthed this sense of loneliness within.

I thought of mum. If I just closed my eyes and let the music take me, I see myself back in mum's apartment, I see mum sitting there relaxing or doing housework, or using the computer... I see mum, I could almost go and touch her, speak to her, hug and laugh with her.

But it aches when I open my eyes and realise I am listening to the same piece of music on my way to work on s cold November morning two years on...

Yesterday, I was speaking to a colleague and reminiscing the years I've been in Canada. Five years. How I came here just months after losing dad, how in the months and years after being in canada I would make so many trips home to be with mum.

"How did you get through it all?" The friend asked.

I felt emotional just thinking about it. hoe indeed? How indeed!

The same piece of music so many years on. the sorrow is still there, the desire to call mum, call and speak to dad and tell them how I am doing, ask them how they are doing, is still so strong. Yesterday,s devastating news that I failed an exam made me feel so fragile and so in need of support...

How can I keep from feeling? How can I keep from remembering?  The other day, someone asked me this question which I received as being so lacking in understanding and compassion for what and why I at times feel lonely and abandoned and crave family and love. People just cannot understand. Just cannot understand and yet try to say something that can come off as very insensitive. I cannot erase emotions, I cannot erase memories, i cannot even after a year, two years or perhaps as long as I live, erase the times I had parents and received unconditional love and care.

Who can? Tell me who really can...?

The music plays on. The music plays on years later after people are long gone.
I cannot cry. I cannot cry, not in the metro.

Fail...

I don't know how....

Just got a meSsage informing me I failed the exam I had such a difficult time studying back in August.

It's devastating, no words for it.
Not only did it cost money, but it's a huge blow to my self-esteem and confidence

Intense grief

I thought the feelings could be put at bay... But they came back, with a vengeance.

I found myself sobbing on the floor, grinding my teeth in intense pain and grief and trying to get back on my feet. But I could not. 

The sense of pain and loss is so intense, it is beyond words and beyond soothing. Tears shed when no one is there to see there... Are they tears at all?

Grief expressed when no one is there to hear the cries or calls for help, is that grief at all? 

Within a span of a  few minutes, I was reduced from someone who could do, do, do; work, work, work... To  some one who could not and who is so traumatised and frozen.

I dreamt we were together again.... That I could fall asleep in his arms, and that he was with me again. In his eyes, I could see the truth, not just lies and deceit. In his embrace, I could feel the love and emotions that once brought us together and made us both feel complete.

He said he had "dealt with things", that he was ready. He touched me in a way that nobody else could.

It was a dream. All a dream.

Seeing dad

It's been so long I have not seen dad, just see him and spend time with him.
Just before waking up, I saw him...

He held my hand, we walked side by side, as we were going somewhere. Where exactly, I wasn't sure. But somehow we were at "Adlerhorst", the bunker complex that served as the Nazi's military command, or at least saw signs of it. There were highways, forests, and we just walked side by side together through this all.


Then somehow, we got on a train/bus, and travelled through a city. It appeared to be Taichung... Dad disappeared for a while, and I couldn't find him. Then I noticed him sitting at the front carriage... I looked at him from afar... he was such a little, thin man, a sweet man, my father... my sweet father. Throughout the dream, we spoke little, or perhaps not at all...

But I felt the love and affection, I felt the bond between us that I miss so dearly...
 So very dearly.

Otherwise, I would not be crying now.

Dying again

It was a dream, but it woke me up and left me panting and trying to catch my breath... It left me on the verge of tears, and pulled me to the depths of sadness and loneliness. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I sat in bed and in the dark, dazed by the dream, and felt the loss and pain all over again...

I saw mum lying on the hospital bed, obviously in pain, groaning and unwell. The doctor came and spoke to me. He shook his head and said few words. It was not good, she has to be "let go", the doctor said. I think brother was there next to me as well.

 I knelt beside mum's bed, grabbed her hand and paced my head on her shoulder, burrying my face in the little nook of her shoulder. I sobbed quietly, but was so afraid she would hear me or feel my tears moisten her. She said it was alright. She said it was time to go.

I didn't say anything, just looked at her and weakly smiled to give her confidence and give her some strength in this difficult, difficult time. But inside I was so weak, I was wrenching and breaking apart. 
When is it time to go? When is it ever alright to leave your loved one?

I held tightly onto her hand... I rubbed her fingers on my face. Soon, this will become an impossibility. Soon, I can no longer touch or feel her. Soon, she can no longer touch or feel me.



Whatever people say to comfort you, whatever people may think a year, two years, maybe even ten or twenty years,  after that eventful day, loss is loss, pain is pain, the sense of loneliness and abandonment is still strong.

The longing to be held is so powerful...

The desire to receive love from another, to receive genuine love and care and not being able to receive it, is breaking me down bit by bit.

Can barely keep awake. My head and back is hurting. How long can I go without proper sleep, with stress and tensions?

Just want to close my eyes and forget it all...
Just want to close my eyes and drift away till it is all over...

I got it!

Finally, after over two years into the process, when I applied to stay in Quebec, and then applied to immigrate to Canada, I got the letter...

Confirmation of Permanent Residence!

My initial thought was to share this joy with my mum... For it was a month or so before she passed away that I started the final process. And she was happy when I finally made that step after years of waiting and putting it off-- mainly because her condition had been so unstable.

But I did it, and waited and waited and waited for over 17 months till this day. 15 October 2013, when the federal government of Canada issued me this statement.

Now I need to leave the country and re-enter to get the PR itself. Shame I just came back from the Netherlands, for it would have been a very meaningful return from there to here...

Finally, the wait is over.

Sutty, home sweet home

Back in Canada, exhausted from the par few days, but I cannot rest. In front of the computer and my Canadian cat crawls into my lap. I put her on the floor, again and again, but she insists on being in my lap.

Curled up like a ball of fur, purring away happily, occasionally glancing at me... This was the same position my Dutch cat passed away in, in exactly the same lap. 

One day, this cat will pass away too. That will be another difficult emotion to process.

Departure

At brother's urging, I opened his door ever so quietely, and  saw him lying in his front with his little body half wrapped with the Peter Rabbit blanket that mum once gave him (I remember how excited mum was when she bought that, for it was on the same day sometime in October 2011, when I suprised visited her... She showed it to  me proudly along with some clothes she had bought for the then new born...). 

I watched his sleep a while, his little body, his little head with so much hair, his tiny arms... He is so beautiful, as well as cute. He reminds me of the little me, the way he's so cunning and curious, and he reminds me of my brother, the way he looks and how he has a stubborn side (maybe that's me too...). I wanted to kiss him goodbye,  to brush my hand through his soft hair again, but I let him sleep, and quietly closed the door behind me. 

Will he look for me when he gets up, the way he's been looking  for Kitty since she "left"? Though it's only been five days, it's as if we have become the best of friends, and he clings onto me  almost every moment he is awake. I love how he reaches to grab my hand while we walk side by side, how he hugs my leg-- something i used to do with mum a lot...  It's endearing to be wanted and sought after so much. every other sentence of babble there's a "su-su" (叔叔, meaning uncle). Apparently he points to my picture that's placed over my brothers computer, and he recognises me. He follows me wherever I go, even to the washroom or my bedroom and stands around while I try to work. He's such a happy child, and any little thing can send him laughing, roaring with laughter, and in turn major everyone else laugh.

I'll miss  you little buddy...

Once downstairs, my sisterinlaw was already in the kitchen frying eggs and making breakfast. Moments later she handed me a egg and cheese sandwich for on the road. I was very touched. In those few moments, I felt that feeling I have been longing for for so long... A sense of belonging, a sense of family and care. Feelings and emotions  I have long missed and longed for...

I packed the last few items into my suitcase, and let the daddy and baby bears hug one another goodbye. They were both gifts from the ex, and the big bellied daddy bear was with mum for almost two years before she passed. I gave the bear to my nephew, seeing as he developed a fondness of the bear. till this day, he still hugs the bear, and has stopped biting him, at least not as much, on the nose when his teeth were sprouting.

I looked at Kitty's bowl again, and imagined she was there. Of course she wasn't. Every morning, her  routine would be to hang around her food and water bowls and look at us walk around preparing breakfast or going about our  morning  routine. She would miauw and wait patiently to be fed, often sitting or crouching there elegantly like the beautiful cat that she is. But she is gone now, and that the emptiness of that space, of that furry being, can never be filled...

I hugged my sister-in-law and thanked her again for everything over the past few days. I told her to take good care, and expressed empathy for the fact it must bd such a handful at times with my nephew being so cunning and so playful. 

Her last words to me were to take good care and not to think too much. "Something you cannot force or hurry," she said. Was she alluding to the job hunt that I have yet to begin, the thing that my brother lectured me on for what seemed like ages... Or was she alluding to what I said the night before, almost in tears, telling my brother how lonely I am and that he forgets what it is to go home and be alone (albeit I have a cat...)

later in the car on the way to the airport, I told my brother how happy the child looks, and how he as a father has such an important role to play in giving the kid a stable home and environment. "Remember our parents, how they used to argue and stuff..." I said a peaceful and happy home is so important for the development of a child, and encouraged him to do more around the house. "It's sharing the burdens..." I said, it's the modern family, at least ny conception of it, and the way I'd love to have

later in the car on the way to the airport, I told my brother how happy the child looks, and how he as a father has such an important role to play in giving the kid a stable home and environment. "Remember our parents, how they used to argue and stuff..." I said a peaceful and happy home is so important for the development of a child, and encouraged him to do more around the house. "It's sharing the burdens..." I said, it's the modern family, at least my conception of it, and the way I'd love to have

 

Sleeplessness

I sleep, but I wake up three or four hours later. I don't think it's the jet lag, for during the day I can go about working and spending time with my little nephew. It's a guilty conscience, I believe, it's the knowledge that I have "blood on my hands", this "damned spot" that doesnt wash off...

It's the knowledge that I killed some creature I loved so much and who placed her trust and her wellbeing in me, in us. And at the same I think to myself, rationally speaking, it's a cat! Just a furry cat!

Kitty's bowl and toys have not been touched, the grass that was grown for her is now ripe to eat. As I was paacking yesterday, my brother asked if I wanted to take some of her things with me back to canada. "I have no need for them anymore now that Kitty's gone..." Another sad silence descended on us all. They have no intention of adopting another cat,  at least not until the kid asks for one. It's too sad, my sister in law said. She sobbed while Kitty lay in my lap and slowly drifted away with her tongue half sticking out. " Too difficult to bear..."
And now I'm taking her toys from her to give to my other cat. Is that a cruel or ironic twist? It is not made easier when my nephew points to the food and water bowl at times and says "Kitty... Kitty?" He frowns and says "oh, oh..." when he does that .

Last night, the crematorium sent us a letter. Kitty was cremated officially on the night we brought her in. Too soon, especially according to my tradition of keeping the remains till an auspicious day, or at least till a week or two later. I now have the "duty" to include this in my annual letter to my mum/parents; she would be devastated, as she cared for that cat so much... Or maybe they are together now...

Merciful killing or guilty murderer?
I cannot help but think back that I authorised and paid for the needle to be put into her... How she struggled to crawl away when the first needle didn't take effect... How she looked at me with petrified eyes as she tried to crawl but her legs had gone limp... And then the vet gave her another shot, by which time she was on my lap... And another shot to make sure the job is really done. To make sure she's really asleep. Permanently asleep... It is exepriencjng this that I realise how really cruel and inhumane capital punishment is.

My karma bank has taken another large withdrawal... And again my conscience, my mind, my soul, my very being cannot sleep and am feeling so tortured by this "damned spot"...

Eve of departure

He means well, the intention I'd kind hearted and to my benefit. Just the words and sounds are received as concedending and lecturing, just my very stubborn and  set mind is resisting the willingness  to listen.

Why? Because you feel misunderstood, you feel judged and under attack, because you feel nobody can really know how you feel deep inside. That realisation can make me feel like I want to breakdown and cry. That realisation can make me long for mum and dad all the more...

I am so tired, so very very tired now.

Kitty's end

I was anxious the entire morning. You know something dreadful is going to happen, and the countdown to that moment  is unbearable. I felt queasy, and when I went downstairs I couldnt find Kitty at first. Then I saw her huddled together ubder a  chair on top of a sjerp skin rug.

I sleept poorly the night before, persos no more than four hours. I did bring my mobile mattress down to the living room to be with her, but almost as soon as I lay down next to the box she has been sleeping in, she got up and went to sit somewhere else. In the dark, I could see her struggle with her heavy behind and belly, which had become so bloated with fluids. In the dark, I could make out she    was watching me from a distance, watching me sleep perhaps.

Only she and I know we slept on the same floor that final night, for before six I got up and went upstairs to the room and locked myself in there to work for a couple of hours while everyone else and my nephew started to stir from their sleep.

I stroked Kitty throughout the morning, and my nephew hung around  also petting the cat and playing around us. I got her favourite brush and began to brush her. Despoite being so weak abd barely able to stand and or make a sound, as soon as I started brushing her, it  was as if she came alive and forgot all about her physical discomforts and panting. She purred so besutiffuly and loudly, she arched her back and stood up stood, her eyes were glittery with life and emotions. It's as if she hadn't been brushed for some time. My nephew tried to imitate my movements abd brushed her too. She   was in heaven, here still in Earth...

She fell asleep in my lap under the spell of ny soft stroking.

Asleep now

Dearest Kitty,

Sleep, beautiful, sleep....

14.36
18 oct 2013

Execution

Do you know what is going to happen?
If you knew, Kitty, you wouldnt be purring, you wouldn't look at me with those beautiful eyes and wink at me with such affection...

I am so sorry.
Soon you will sleep, sleep and drift away and never ever feel any more pain or suffering...

Soon you will sleep and drift away, but do know and always remember we love you so, and you are always and forever part of us.

Vigil

In less than twelve hours, Kitty sill no longer be with us. She is now inside a box, resting in her feetless pose while her chest heaves in great discomfort.

Earlier my brother and sisterinlaw spent some time with Kitty. They talked about it and agreed that perhaps we should  get my nephew to sleep when tomorrow,'s procedure is being conducted. When he gets up, the kitty who's been there since the day he entered this world would have left the world.

just now, I made my bed on the floor next to her so I can sleep with her this one last night.

One last night I can sleep next to her and know she is there to touch, to stroke, and to love.

Last night

Kitty is sitting by my side as I try to sork. Soft classical music is playing, I'm tired and should probably go sleep. But I cant.

She's next to me, purring, huddled together in a bundle of joy and fur in my favourite "feetless pose".

I gave her her favourite meal of the day__ a pouch of wet food st night which she always expects, and would often just sit in the kitchen waitinf for it. She licked a few times, but that was that. SheIspent most of the night by my side (or j by her side...), looking at me with big watery eyes. Maybe she knows... Maybe she's trying to tell me not to go through it. Maybe she's trying to tell me to stay a bit longer with her. Maybe she's afraid of being alone tonight.

I am going nowhere Kitty. I will be here right by your side till morning comes.

Call to the crematorium

i could barely get the words out of my mouth between the chocking and swallowing the tears. 

My brother asked me to call the clinic and the crematorium to ask for details about what happens when you put down a pet. We know the vet will come at 14.00hrs tomorrow (18 Oct 2013), but we are unsure of what happens next. In essence, I have been asked to take care of the funeral arrangement...

After I spoke to the lady at the clinic, I put down the phone and just let the tears flow. "Heel veel sterkte..." She said at the end. "Much Strength..." She must understand what it means to people who lose their pets. It's an emotional ordeal. Whatever people may say or think, and though pets are not human beings, they become an ingrained part of your life, part of your family. 

I have been watching and spending time with  Kitty since i got back two hours or so ago. She looks so normal, crouching like she does often by the window and eyeing the room with her little head. She looks like she's gained a lot of weight, but when I first touched her, the feel of her spine and bones shocked me tremendously. She's actually gotten thin, and all that excess "volume" is from fluids gathered inside. Her breathing has become so cumbersome and with every breath she's struggling and heaving. The side of her body has been shaven for the echo graph on Tuesday. Ironically she looks like a cancer patient with a shaven side. But her fur is as beautiful as ever, her gaze still as soft and loving, so sweet and so full of affection. 

I touch her, stroke her an quietly deep down I say to her "it will all be alright... Relax... I am here..."

Does she understand? Does she realise I am here for her and will be there all the time by her side along with my brother and sister-in-law who care about and love her so much? 

At ZRH

I got off the plane and headed toward the transfer area. Zurich Airport is clean, efficient and beautiful in a minimalistic way. On the sky bridge was a panorama view of mountains ranges and lush green hills with cattle grazing. "Get natural", that's the motto of Switzerland. It seems to be a word people like to use, a word symbolising purity and being down to Earth and close to nature. Even on the plane, when I said I didn't want any milk or sugar in my tea, the cabin crew smiled and asked to confirm in German "Natural?" 

When I got to the passport check area, a large wall was plastered with an ad for the instance company Zurich. There were a few simple words: "For those who truly love". And so reflective of my sentiments, in a way that made me smile yet also ache a little inside, was a picture of a beautiful cat wearing blue mittens. 

I eyed the passport counters, and of five that were open, one was reserved for European Union / European Economic Area (EU/EEA) citizens. I went to stand in the shorter queue reserved for Union citizens, and within a minute a lady came up to me and asked me in English if I was European. 

"Ja, Europaer..." I curtly answered in German while flashing my little burgundy-coloured travel booklet in front of her. She looked at me a brief moment and then walked away. 

Perhaps she thought I was some lost tourist, some kind of first time traveler on his first trip from Asia. And she was I guess, to be fair (yes, she was fair...), just doing her job of directing people to the correct counter. However, I could not help notice I was the only person of colour in line. No one else was asked. 

This was not the first time something like this happened. Once I got questioned at the gate about how I got my passport. But only in Europe, only in the continent where I lived for almost  two decades of my life am I questioned and eyed with in a way that reminds me again and again I am not from here and that I will never be from here, even if I am a citizen of the Union. Not even in the US, where everyone seems to be suspect, where concerns of security, identity and the threat of terrorism is taken to the extreme have I ever experienced such an implicit form of racial discrimination. 

Welcome back to Europe. 

Welcome back. 

YUL-ZRH-AMS

I booked my flight twelve hours or so ago. At four in the morning. Prices were exorbitant at the last minute, even for economy class. Luckily I stored up on some airline miles and managed to redeem for a return flight for good value in business class with Swiss. The extra comfort will be appreciated since this will be an exhausting and I imagine emotionally laden journey of five days.

Brother and I spoke briefly again yesterday afternoon, and he texted me at 3am (my time) saying he's spoken to the vet and asking me my opinion on the matter of Kitty's arrangements. It was such a bizarre and difficult message to read. We must decide her life. Who are we to decide that...? Because we don't want to see this poor little cat suffer? Or because we can't bear to suffer ourselves seeing her suffer? These are questions I have wrestled with before, especially when mum was dying. It puts you face to face with death and life. You humbles you and make you realise again how terribly fragile all life is. Again, death is bringing is together. Death unites people, make them realise what little time we have in the world and how we often squander it by saying "later, later, later" or refuse to resolve matters and chose to live in regret and fear. 

Despite brother's initial protests earlier in the afternoon yesterday, I think he soon came to understand and realise why this trip is so important for me. I made it clear that she is also my cat. All I had to say was "She spent all those years with me too..." and brother's initials protests subsided. We lost our dad, we lost our mum. He knows how it is to lose someone, even if it is just a cat. He knows best, for as a friend said, our family has experienced it's share of loses all these years.

That's the reason why he's asked my opinion on how to proceed... Whether do let Kitty go at the clinic or at home... And what to do with her remains, to cremate or to bury somewhere.

I cannot imagine how that will be. Not so much the procedure, because whatever procedure you follow, it will be mechanical, painless, most likely by a needle. It's the significance behind it all. It's knowing you are directly responsible for taking a life, even though it is done mercifully and cat-anely. I cannot imagine how I can look at her in the eyes knowing what I am to do to her. She can feel it, can she not? She's a cat, a most sentient and sensitive creature. She knows she is dying... She knows her body is giving up and in great discomfort, does she not? She must be so scared, so very scared... Can my hand offer her comfort in those moments before her consciousness drifts and dissipates? Can my soft voice calling her name remind her that she is surrounded by loved ones and that she has nothing to worry about?

When brother told me about Kitty's condition all I could think of was how before when I was upset or down, she would come see me in my bedroom. She would just air around and look at me cry, as if offering me support... And now, I am heading back to offer her support. It is the least I could do. Imagine how this must all feel for brother, who had her for almost nine years... Imagine how difficult it must be for him, for the cat would sit on his lap every night after work. And all those years he was single, the cat was his companion and a reminder that he is not alone. For my sister-in-law it is not easy either, for its been three years that Kitty has been in her life. And Kitty is a cat everyone adores and remembers after meeting her the first time. As I was packing frantically to leave, I suddenly thought of mum's best friends, for they have met Kitty, and they often ask about how the cat is. For several moments, my mind wondered if I should tell them or not. But why bring sad news...?

On this flight back to Europe, I am reminded of key events.... I remember a month or so after I got her from a friend, she was on heat and one day when we weren't paying attention she ran out. For a month I kept searching for her. For a month, every week I would bike a long, long time to the animal shelter to see if she's there. 

How happy I was that a week or so before my birthday in 2005, I found her at the shelter. She recognised me immediately. She miauwed and smelled my hand. The search, and the deep gnawing sense of loss, the fear of something terrible happening this sweet little creature, was over.

But now it's different. She's been with us over eight years. Though five or so of those years I have been absent (since I moved to Canada...) Kitty still occupies a deep part of my heart. And rushing back to see her, to bid farewell, feels so sadly familiar... To get a call suddenly and then frantically book a ticket. It happened with dad. It happened with Carmen, a dear friend who looked out for me those teenage years my parents were absent. And it happened with mum... Now it is happening with Kitty.

I cannot describe how these feelings are. The urge to see someone (or some-cat), the fear that by the time you get there it might be too late, the thought of someone you love and care so much about languishing and suffering and not being able to do anything about it. 

The tears have stopped. I am just numb now. I feel this is the stoic part me coming into play, the one that faces death and loss head on and tries to normalise, rationalise everything till one day, post the event, I realise what it all meant, what I have really lost and begin to break down and cry.

Kitty, hang on there. I am coming home...

Kleine Kat, hang on there

Can I afford to do this? Jump on a plane to see my "old" cat one last time? It's insane, my mind tells me. Ill be the source of ridicule, of gossip for those who do no understand. But my heart tells me to go, for I will not be able to forgive myself for not seeing her one last time...

She was/is my cat, and we have such a beautiful bond that lasted for almost four years till I left to Canada. She kept me company, her purrs kept me feeling warm and loved and appreciated. Her green eyes could melt away the worries on a frustrating day, her presence could bring my brother and I together and give us a shared moment when our relationship is tense. 

She is Kleine Kat (Little Cat), because she was the littlest cat of her litter. And I love her, even though I have been away from her for so long, even though I now have my own cat. I guess this demonstrates clearly and old love does not die simply because you replace it with another. The emotions are still there, the attachment is still strong and ne'er severed, even with distance and time.

Her heart is beating slower and slower now. Even slower than an aged cat, even though she's only 9 or so. It's dangerously slow as due to a leak in her heart, the blood is not flowing well enough. Fluids have collected in her lungs, in her abdomen and other organs. She is literally drowning from the inside. Brother told me she's breathing laboriously, and moving about is uncomfortable. It wrenches my heart to hear this. Another being so dear, so dear to me about to leave me again...

My brother said not to go, said its insane to travel again just for a cat. Spend so much money for what? For a good bye? For one last touch, one final stroked her fur...? Is it worth? 

Is any life or attachment worth it ever? Is any connection we make with a creature of this universe ever worth anything? Maybe Kitty will be so tired, in so much pain that she will not recognise me any more. But perhaps in her final moments, perhaps before she leaves this world, I can give her a semblance of comfort and love, affection and care, hold her in my arms as I used to do when she was ever so little... Cup her like a baby in my arms as she used to purr and state deep into my eyes...

Euthanasia...

Just spoke to my sister-in-law (brother is at work...). She gave me the latest briefing on the Dutch cat Kitty. 

The bit of the belly around the hind legs is swollen. Not a tumour, as its soft and "liquidy" to the touch. The vet's initial diagnosis is that it's something related to the failure of the heart or her stomach, causing an accumulation of liquids. Nothing certain can be said till an X-ray or further tests. 

The vet did discuss with my brother the option of euthanasia. The condition will likely get worse, will deteriorate and the cat will feel increasing discomfort. She will be unable to eat or move and will become ever so thin. Euthanasia may be the most humane way. 

I cannot keep from crying...

I cannot dissociate this from mum's experience of stomach fluids accumulating and her inability to eat and her constant thinning till the moment she passed. And now my first cat. My first real pet love... 

It's so cruel life is throwing death and loss at me left and right... It's so cruel.

Kleine Kat

Ik denk jou...

I got a missed call earlier today at Niagara Falls. I suspected it was my brother, but i didn't call back. I should have. 

Later during the day, I saw a picture my brother updated. He said he was taking my first cat, Kleine Kat, aka Kitty, to the vet. It's been so long, perhaps over three years since she was taken to the vet. I remember doing that with mum last time back in 2010, and Kitty was so scared of wing out and in her cage she literally was "shit scared"...

Just now, brother sent me a message. It doesn't look good. She may not have long to live. Her stomach is swollen with fluids and has not pooped for the last two weeks or so... The vet will run more tests and X-ray, but it doesn't look good...

My heart wrenched so horribly. I am in the car now rushing back to Montreal after a long weekend, and last week I lost my favourite teddy bear of all. And now... Now this news?

The tears are falling again. 

How kitty must be suffering... How the discomfort of abdominal fluids must be... I saw it with my mum, how she groaned and moaned toward the end...

I wish to go home to Europe. I know it's exorbitant, it's terribly silly and I have so much work left undone and a looming deadline, but I so wish to go home to see my cat, even if its for one last time...

The void

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How do I keep these tears from falling?

Flooding back, everything flooding back...

 The way we were, the hurt and betrayal  caused by me, the death of mum and that final goodbye, the agony of unrequited love and emotions and seeing a former lover be with another... Mum and dad's memories, their kindness, their warmth and touch never to relived or refelt mixed with the void of loss and loneliness. I'm crying and crying and nobody can hear me, it seems. Nobody can feel the pain or the hurt inside. 

How have I become like this cynical and passive-aggressive psycho who lashes out and ruins social gatherings? How have I become the misunderstood one who is so strange and suddenly the social pariah, suddenly I have become so strange and unfun that people do not find me pleasant to be around with any more. 

Dwelling. Am I dwelling in the pain and the grief? Am I drowning in my own sorrow? Am I pointing always to the grief and never at this horrid person I seem to have become according to some? Am I the crazy one in a world of sanity?

The void and misunderstanding is so hurtful, so very painful.

Tall tower

Return to "tall tower"...

Last time I was here, I called mum and spoke to her. she was languishing at home. a month or so later, she would die. The ex and I were here together and all seemed so romantic and intimate, we had such fun and romance. 

I broke down seeing the falls. The

memories were too much, the promises of a renewed relationship with the ex was so comforting,  the reality of mum dying weighed heavy like the falling waterfall. I broke down and could not stop crying.

Coming back here, the memories return and splash on me  like the vapours of Niagara Fall, taking me back to last May year, to the family trip in the Summer of 1994, to the carefree days of little me, to the days when I was well and life seemed promising and stable...

Fool

Fool, lying in someone's embrace again. 

It's not the same. I do not feel comfortable anymore. 

He gave you a pillow to sleep on on the sofa. What else is clearer? 

I'm just someone who imagines and clings onto hope still. 

I need to break away, to stop the alluring scent, touch and soft words and comforts of the past prevent me from moving on. Otherwise one day, I will be the only person left all alone at the end of the day. All alone. And the prospect p that is devastating loneliness and remorse.