Eve of election night

It's that time of 4 year cycle again...
The anxiety and the anticipation till the counting of the votes and grand revealing of results. This time 24hrs from now, results will have begun pouring in.

I will either feel a sense of dread, or elation.
They say the world is watching Taiwan, as it usually is around the time of the presidential elections. It is the only place in the Chinese speaking world where the people can freely determine the leader. But this time, there is more at stake. This election, and Taiwan in general, has become a battle ground between the US and China, liberatarian values vs authoritarianism, disinformation vs struggle for finding and speak truth in an age of fakenews and distorted and divided realities. What happens after the elections could make or break the island nation, and the region. It is a struggle between the incumbent Tsai Ing-Wen, and a real bumpkin 草包  who uses misogny, brass comments, theatrics and slogans to attract and retain die-hard voters who are "pan-blues" who wish nothing but the failure of the greens--even if it means that China will gain the upper hand and prove its interference tactics and attempts to infiltrate Taiwanese politics and society is working.

There is a deep seated fear in me that populism and ignorance will win over the calm and sense of duty and perserverance of the incumbent. People seem more entertained by a clown than someone who is serious and who seems to have the interests of the Taiwanese people at heart. People seem more bitter about the benefits and pensions that have been for too long offered to civil servants that they cannot see that that structure is simply not sustainable. People seem to ignore or choose not to see the painful, bloody struggle of the people of Hong Kong, who are fighting and have been fighting for over six months for greater represenatation and against the encroachment of Beijing in HK society and politics, which is irreversible...

I pray for Taiwan.
I pray that freeom, true freedom and the people who have the best wishes of the island and its people will continue to govern its politics.

I pray that those with ill-gotten gains, ill-intentions and those who are puppets of communists in China will lose and fade.

But we have seen the rise and continued tragedy of Trump and his brand of populism, attacks on the media, and disregard for the fineness and honour of the office of the president.
Can Taiwan be immune?

New Year's Eve

Not quite New Year's Eve, but I did begin this post, or at least the title of it, on New Year's Eve 2020. That was already 10 days ago. 10 days into the new year, and I am feeling anxious, agitated, and out of sync.

It's  certainly been a long time since I last wrote on here. There are many reasons, but I think the main one is just laziness, or perhaps the lack of willingness and inspiration that comes with living life day after day after day. To be honest, life has been good the past year, with relatively little moments that were difficult or that I felt were worth reporting. It does make me wonder whether life is only worth writing about when things tough and life is a struggle...

I had a full year, the seventh year of working at the place I immediately began working at after graduating, which happened to be the same year that mum passed away. Looking back, those years when I was most prolific with writing was when I went through those painful and difficult moments with mum. Those hospital days, those grueling waiting moments, those moments of helplessness and hopelessness. Life gradually became better, especially as grief gave way to smiles, or at least acceptance of the routines of life. Waking, working, eating, emotional stimulation, physical pleasures, the occasional exercise, and moments of sleep when all is shut away till I am again conscious and feeling things to repeat the routine of work, sleep, pooping, and reacting to stimuli.

Of course, in the past year, I have done much more than what I have just captured with a few words. Those words hardly do justice to the moments of fascination, loneliness, or moments of being filled with gratitude or bliss that I experienced. I continue to count myself as lucky--and I must never forget how lucky and fortunate I am, to have a home/roof over my head (to actually own property in an age of unaffordable rents and skyrocketing property prices. How lucky I am to have a job that allows me the freedom to work on things I enjoy, the freedom to occasionally escape and delay in getting back to emails, and the freedom to travel to various parts of the world to speak and share whatever "expertise" or experience I have (even though at time, I feel like an imposter and inadequate...). In the past year, I have been to Finland, Qatar (a personal, and secretive trip to explore career opportinities) , Germany, Belgium, Turkey, Japan, Taiwan, Georgia, US, and NYC, US. Not to mention the side trips I have made to visit my family whenever I am in Europe.

I am very fortunate that I lead a life and have work that allows me such flexibility to travel and fly around (at last count, I flew over 70,000 miles , which is around 3 times around the world). And I am blessed with friends who care about me, and a roommate I get along with very well, as well as cats that are ever so patient and fill me with that warmth and joy whenever I stroke them or just look at them from a distance.

I am indeed very fortunate.

But. And here comes the but.

There is such uncertainty still in my life, and I long for some kind of certainty, stability, or at least a sense of direction.

These past few weeks, since before Christmas, I have been doing very little and purposely ignored messages from work. I have felt unmotivated, and want honestly to leave, but do not really have the courage to tell the people at work that I have "checked out" of work. I mean, I have already expressed my desire to leave a few times, and purposely did not sign to renew my work contract that was sent to me a month ago. I just do not feel it any more. I have searched and found something that potentially interests me, and in a week or so, I should hear about whether that will be moving forward. So there is much anxiety and uncertainty in this regard.

And at the same time, I have met someone. Completely unexpected, but it's coming up to three months that we have known each other, and have been seeing each other. It's all lovely and all, as are these meetings with someone after a long spell of being single (and goodness, it's been a long time since I have been with someone). But even in this relationship (if we can call it that), there is much uncertainty. He would like to be more steady, call each other boyfriends, but there is the caveat that there is some openness, some leeway to have physical experiences with others in the relationship. Im stuck with this choice of whether to move forward, or to call it quits. I'm just confused...

Anyways, a disjoined piece tonight, as it's almost 4am.
I've been going to bed rather late/early this past week. It's just been a cycle of sleeping late, and waking up late, and lying in bed, half asleep, half wishing to sleep the day and hours away so I do not have to get up and do much. Much of this simply to avoid facing my issues or the work and emails that have stacked up since I slipped into "checked-out " mode a month or so ago...

Perhaps I will come back and write more in the coming period. And more will make sense.

Miss them dearly....

It's been a while I  signed into Skype on my phone. When I did, trying to contact the monk in Taiwan, I came across mum's picture.

I used to call her so often. Every single day, sometimes twice a day. I miss her...
And I miss dad as well.

The holidays are never easy. 

Neighbour

I came home after almost three weeks away. My roomie greeted me warmly, and then she said there is something she did not want to say over the phone. Our neighbour passed away last week.

It was a shock. I remember the morning I left, I was just outside her door, and the superintendent of the building was knocking at her door together with a concerned neighbour who had not seen her in a few days. She's all by herself, doesn't really do much except listen to classical music and watch news and religious channels. She likes to frequent a coffee shop around the corner (where she wanted to set me up with a single girl once, shortly after I moved in...). She doesn't really interact much with others, but whenever I did see her, she would be so warm and friendly, and call me "Professor".

It's hard to believe that she's not there anymore. Even today, as I was heading home, I was thinking to myself I should knock on her door and say hello. I tried calling her around three weeks ago, when I saw that the super and another person in the building could not find her. But her mobile phone was off, and nobody picked up at home. Then I asked my roomie to check up on her. Turned out she was in hospital due to her heart condition. And that was what took her eventually...

She had told me about her condition on several conditions. When the temperature drops, she, like many with a heart condition, feel it more. She complained of discomfort, and that she has to take pills to regulate it. We once exchanged for a while over this, as I said I also have something, arythmia that was diagnosed around 3 years ago, but nothing that the doctors said needs to be addressed urgently (though surgery is necessary to correct it, and best done when I'm still young...). She said she's had surgery before, and that she needs to be very careful. Last time we spoke for a while, just out in the corridor, she asked me whether it's good to fly with a heart condition. She said she wanted to go back home, to her native Philippines, where her mother is, and whose health is not that well. She was worried, and asked me how long the flight is. I recommended that she speak to her doctor, and that it's at least 20hrs or so of traveling--easiest probably with Eva via Taiwan, as it's decent and comfortable even in Economy Class. Who could have thought that would be the last conversation we would have...

It's odd... I've seen her at most a dozen or so times since I moved here three years ago. Yet, when I heard the news, it really pained me. Was it the knowledge that she spent her last hours alone, and probably in much distress and pain? Was it perhaps the guilt I feel because I was not more in touch with her... even though I vowed to myself when I left home last time to check up on her more? Was it because I made mental notes to invite her over for a simple meal, but never did? She said to me many times she does not know how to cook, and asked me if I knew how to cook... Why did I never invite her over when I had the chance...?

It pained and pains me to know that I will no longer bump into her in the corridor, or on the way home, or close by the corner cafe. Her and her light blue jacket, her navy blue tuc... or simple t-shirt in the summer. That smile she always wore, that warmth she always greeted me and called me "Professor" with... I have to admit that on occasion, I felt a bit annoyed by the way she would call me, or how she would try to set me up with some girl she knew... but she just wanted to help, and it's expected from someone her age (70s...).

The most memorable interaction with her was around this time last year. Her heating broke down during what must have been the coldest spell for years. She saw me one day and asked if the heating is working, and I recommended her to the repair company. Then a few days later, I saw and overhead her speaking with the super downstairs about the heating issue. It was still not addressed, and she had been without heat for almost two weeks. I was shocked... especially for someone in her condition. I offered to help her call the heating repair company, and made an appointment for her. Then it turns out that they can only take credit cards to make an appointment, which my neighbour does not have... I didn't think twice and said I'm happy for her to use my card, even though I did not know how much it would all cost. My worry was that she would suffer or worse in the persistent cold... nobody should have to suffer like this, even though she told me "It's God's will, and I'm prepared..." I dismissed it, and said there are things that we can fix, simple practical things like getting a repair crew to fix the heater. And within a few days, she had heat again. She was ever so grateful. It was, for me, nothing.

She was a simple lady. Her apartment was filled with Bibles, biblical ornaments, candles, books and things she got from her days when she did the God's work at a convent or on missions. She talked about God and religion a lot, it was her passion, her life. She was ready to be accepted into God's embrace... I gave her a small cross, I remember, from my trip to Bethlehem, and she was overjoyed.

And now she is no more.

I hope she is at ease, and truly with God and no longer so alone or lonely.

RIP, Clementia...
 

Flying home

 

 

Flying home

LH470 FRA-YYZ

Heading back to Canada after around 10 days in Holland with brother and his family. There were, like many trips “home” in Den Haag, many moments that made me miss those days and life in Holland. I don’t know if these moments were triggered by flashbacks of those (more) care-free days of my teenage (and later adolescent) years, or a genuine longing for the quiet life in the city I lived so many years of my life year. Perhaps those nostalgic feelings springs from that sense of romanticism associated with “life is better on the other side”, which in turn comes from the fact that I have reached a point in my life in Canada (after a decade) that I’m settled and beginning to itch.

Certainly, things did appear different, in many a positive weis. Groceries for one is so much cheaper, and fresher… then there’s that ease of getting from place to place, many distances manageable by bike. Again, perhaps part of the “life is better on the other side”, I feel there may be more prospects of finding a partner starting life elsewhere, especially as after all these years, I remain pretty much alone and single. And the biggest lure of it all is of course my family. The joy and amazement of seeing and experiencing the growing up of my nephew and niece, being there at their important milestones of their little lives somehow seems so important, important enough that I can imagine myself moving back and getting a job in Europe again so I can play a greater role in their lives than the occasional visiting uncle from far awei who spends at most a week or two with them every year.

Part of this wish to have a greater role in their lives is perhaps knowing (or imagining) what fragile peace surrounds my nephew and niece due to the volatile relationship between my brother and my sister-in-law. Of course, what goes on in the relationship between two people, what goes on in another household, is none of my concern. And I vowed not to intervene or have too much input in what goes on. But what concerns me a lot is the children.

These past ten days, I saw and felt many moments that triggered flashbacks. In fact, every time I visit, there is a tension in the air, this worry that another outbreak of bickering or toxic tone will break lose. It’s been so long I did not feel that. But growing up, this kind of feeling, and a sense of guilt and hopelessness and helplessness filled me whenever dad and mum would argue. Often it is over such trivial issues. Often, it is simply because dad somehow has anger and mood control issues, and does not seem able to manage how he speaks. It’s not so much what is said (though often what is said is biting and just angry or negative…); it is more how things are said. A hint of condescension… a hint of accusation… a hint of guilt-tripping… a hint of everything-is-wrong-with-the-world. Before, it was dad. Now, it’s my brother, and he is a dad, and a husband. And those angry, ugly patterns of behaviour and mannerism are repeating and manifesting themselves in his family and in his relationship with his wife and his kids.

It saddens me greatly to see and hear this. it still triggers memories of tensions and bickering, angry exchanges of words over such trivial things like money, how much was spent on what. Can you believe that the fact that the inside of the car window being dusty was the source of two incidents of grumbling and anger? Can you imagine that on Christmas day, a  toxic mix of explosion of anger, shouting, accusations and attempts to force and find the truth broke out over how many bottles of shower gel were bought while we were shopping in Germany two days prior? And this was after a lovely dinner and evening of us (the three of us adults) bonding over wine and dessert while the kids played (or watched TV ) in the living room, during which I poured my heart out about what I wanted to say and let my brother know how sad and dangerously he is repeating all those mistakes our dad made that my brother had vowed before never to repeat.

I recounted stories of how dad did not even know where the chopsticks were, and would blame mum for switching them from place to place (…why would anyone do that? It’s not a store trying to get people to buy more stuff…); I recounted the hardship and at times insult that mum endured going out to work for very little money, and how she would come home so late at night (and I would wait for her, and hug her tightly by the legs whenever she came home from work, in the dark, from the cold…). With wine loosening my inhibitions, I bluntly blurted out that brother hated dad—the relationship was beyond repair and so extremely poor—would he want to have a repeat of that with his own son?

I said all this not out of spite, but out of genuine concern…I don’t want the kids to grow up being estranged from their dad, and I don’t wish things to evolve in such a way that my sister-in-law has to endure the kind of lack of appreciation, lack of warmth and compassion that mum put with for decades… kids deserve to grow up in a family, in a household filled with love and kind words; they deserve to grow up learning that the way to speak to and treat one another is kindly and with respect, and not with anger, disdain or lack of any regard for one’s feelings or the greater circumstances of why someone may do or say something in a certain way that may not necessarily be to one’s liking. And a marriage should be based on trust, on dialogue, on respect for one another, on sharing and carrying the burdens of child-rearing and household maintenance together as a couple.

I did what I could do, I said what I wanted to say. Leaving this morning, I left cards for everyone under the little Christmas tree that I bought. Personal messages to everyone… to my niece, reminding her to stay the sweet and good girl she is, and to eat more; to my nephew, wishing him lots of luck in school (as he is struggling a bit with Dutch language since they do not speak it at home), and telling him to be good with his sister, with his parents; to my sister-in-law, thanking her for her patience, and acknowledging and appreciating the frustrations and sense of helplessness she must feel at times (or often…?), and reminding her that if there is anything at all she needs, she must reach out to me… (again, in an echo of the past, the message to my sister-in-law is so similar in tone and in the message itself to the messages I wrote to mum many, many times before. Some of these are contained in letters written on yellowed paper, many of which have been placed in safekeeping in boxes throughout the years; some of which may be in the suitcases that I am carrying back with me). To my brother, I reminded him of what a lovely family he has, reminded him to appreciate all that he has, and how much our parents have given us so we can have a comfortable and less worrisome life; I reminded him that we are family, and we are the only family we have left…

Who knows what effect my words, gestures, and very presence may have had over these past week or so. Who knows whether the words on the greeting cards (peace doves, symbolically, drawn by Dick Bruna) I penned would have any effect or resonate at all…

But all I could do is try. And hope. And wish. And pray that people will change, people will see that love and being there for one another, being peaceful and equal partners in life, whether as husband or father, whether as wife or mother, matters a lot.

Verge of 34

Just took a long bath and started reading a book. Threw in a bath bar called "Karma". How symbolic for this to wash away the last moments and accumulated karma and grime of 33 years in preparation for 34. The book starts with the descriptive longings of a 17yr old boy, a coming-of-age period of exploration, anxiety and fear, a period in adolescence when you feel like you know so much, yet are excluded and dismissed as a child, and simultaneously feel like you know so little, as the world of university, work, life and all in between lies just beyond your reach. 

Was it a coincidence that earlier today, after a dinner alone at a sushi restaurant, as I walked home, somehow I got the urge to listen to some songs that I began listening to when I was 17? American Pie (Don McLean's and Madonna's modern versions), songs from Evita (particularly Another Suitcase in Another Hall), among others. Songs I would listen and sing to at a time when I was living alone in that home in The Hague, when I lived a quiet and solitary life, when school preoccupied me, as did thoughts of and coming to terms with my sexuality and history, when my family of four had been split in three corners of the world. A time when nightmares haunted me, when the "'void" consumed me, when just around the corner the unknowns of university life and the world before me lured and intimidated me at the same time. What a time it was to be alive. Such carefree, innocent days, they appear to be now. Biking to the beach and sitting on the sand at sunset... Bike rides lost in the dark of the night and in the melody of tunes and lyrics emitting from the MP3 (yes, it's a thing of the past...). 

A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
Something touched me deep inside
The day the music died

Fast forward 17 years, here I am in Toronto. Across the Atlantic in Canada, across time and space, across graduation, funerals, celebrations, highlights, trips and nights spent alone and shivering in tears from the loss of dear, dear loved ones gone too soon. Twice that age from that coming-of-age boy at high school, millions of miles behind me, countless stories that took place in hospital wards, lecture halls, and journeys in far awei lands. "I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck", and now? A "young" professional, a millennial, a teacher on the other side of the podium, a cat-owner (and cat-slave). Single still, but that is just the way it is.

And what of 17 years from now? 34 years from now? It dawned on me as I walked home, past the bright lights of the city, past crowds of faceless, anonymous passerbys, I am perhaps well into half of an "average" human life. Who knows how long I have left, how much longer I can think, feel, write, cry, love and feel pain? And what is it that I want from this life? What is it that this life wants from me?

Looking back at this blog, I realised it's been close to a year since my last blog entry (though there are actually dozens of posts I began writing, mostly on my travels and/or at 37,000ft as I am sitting in a cabin and anonymously journeying somewhere in the world, that I have yet to organise and publish...)  It's not that life has come to a halt. Far from it. I've been fortunate to have been offered opportunities and paths that I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams when I sat alone in that living room back in 2001 when I was 17. But, it's true what they say... as you grow older, you seem to lose that "spark", you begin to feel weighed down by ... perhaps work, perhaps inter-personal relationships, by the noise and state of the world... by life itself (doesn't help that I was diagonosed 3 yrs ago with a heart mumur that doctors say make me feel more lethargic and fatigued than normal people as my heart is beating faster than usual...).

Another ditch in the road
You keep moving
Another stop sign
You keep moving on
And the years go by so fast
Wonder how I ever made it through

And the days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, quickly a year goes by again, and again, and again, leaving you exasperated and wondering where the time went. I often look in the mirrow and wonder who that person is looking back me... I see traces of my mother, my father... I see the wrinkles of time slowly appear on my forehead. I see the light scars from the period when I had acne on my face (...still get some on occasion). I see someone some call "Professor", though often I feel just as clueless as a freshfaced student new to the field... I see someone some say is kind, compassionate and giving, though I often feel so conflicted and cruel in dismissing the plight and burdens of others. I see someone who often just feels the need to shy away, to hide, to be away from people and crowds, while at the same time longing for intimacy, affecting, and a warm, warm embrace that makes me feel safe and  fall asleep so peacefully.


34 years and counting. How far have I come? And how much further have I got to go?

Visitation

There she lay, in a beautiful,  elegant black dress. Thick makeup,  wig, eyes closed. I stood there before her,  as so many stood before her open casket quietly. Our dearly beloved, a caring,  warm, kind and so loving person, now a cold corpse. It's surreal. It's cruel and hard to get your head around.

I've yet to really shed a tear. Ive gone through , been that stoic,  strong person,  at least on the outside. But I fear it's just a matter of time.

Several came up to me and asked if I'm family , hugged and comforted me as if I were part of the family. I feel like an intruder,  but the real family as really taken me in  as if I were part of their own, even though I've only known them and my late friend for just over two and a half years.  But how I've received such kindness,  such love and care from her... Like an older sister or loving auntie I've never had.

I was asked to help carry the carry tomorrow/in 5 or so hours... A great honour，a solemn walk with the loved ones and our dearly departed till her final resting  place... Perhaps this explains why I cannot sleep, even though it's been such S long and tiring month of hospitals and work, and seeing her gradual decline...

The departed...

My friend passed at 01.58, around two hours ago. I was still awake when I received the text from her husband, just setting the alarm to wake up early in the morning to see her. There's no need anymore.

I feel deep down a sense of guilt... had I stayed longer, spent more time with her! Had I followed that gut feeling I had when I left the hospital this evening and stayed around! But what would have happened would have happened, whether I was there or not. She chose to spend her final moments with her beloved husband, took off the breathing mask that was keeping her alive  after the last of the friends and family had left the hospital.

The last thing I said to her was "Relax... It'll be ok" (放鬆，沒關係...) The past couple of days I kept on saying to her, in between those rare moments of consciousness, "Relax...", in Mandarin, because earlier her husband told me that was what she had said to her father as his time drew near. Somehow, in my mind, speaking to her in Mandarin, perhaps the only person able to do that in these final few weeks and days, was supposed to reassure and calm her. I could only pray that my words, those words, gave her the comfort and soothing effect I intended them to have...

Could I have said more? Done more? Spent more time with her? Now that she has departed, the questions are coming... While others were able to joke and make her laugh, all I could do was hold her hand and be there, fan her and do what she needed to keep her cool. Perhaps I should have asked what she wanted, but I was afraid to broach the subject of death and dying. For she had such hope, such longing to keep on fighting, to battle the cancer till the end. I was afraid to upset her, and her husband, by talking about the possibilities and opening up about acceptance and making peace with the inevitable.

There were signs, I saw them. Was it just instinct, or from experience? Or from the honour of attending that "Conversation" the doctors had with her husband, which I was pulled into for moral support and "just in case" he could not digest what was being said. I somehow had a feeling, but kept quiet. All I could do was visit whenever I could, spend time there to relief the husband so he could go home and rest or run errands. Perhaps I could have done... But all those questions are moot.

Over the past couple of days, friends and her husband's relatives poured in from near and far. We were all united by her ability to touch our lives, by her inate ability to make us laugh. She was a strong, and at time stubborn person, who stood for justice, who would not take nonsense, who cared so deeply, deeply for cats and all the persons she encountered. Whether colleagues, homeless people, loved ones, feral cats... we are all united by the fact that she touched our lives and made our lives all the more richer and warmed with the care and love she showed us.

That love is now gone...
She is no more.

But her suffering, the pain and great discomfort she has had to endure are also no more.

I remember telling her one day to "forebear", a word I used with my own mother.
In many ways, there are similarities between that experience almost 5 years ago and the past two weeks. 
The breathlessness, the loss of appetite, the slipping in and out of consciousness, the need to rest and constant fatgiue and restlessness... There were all these signs. 

I went in and just stood there or sat by her side. That was all I could offer.

On my birthday, I dressed up in a nice shirt and went to see her in the morning. She was perkier that day as the breathing tubes were removed the day earlier and she was much more comfortable. And that day she was scheduled to have her feedbing tube removed. I told her how much I wanted to be with her on my birthday, and how she should not worry about taking my time (or the fact I cancelled a work trip to stay with her). She wanted to listen to stories of my time in Israel, and she was very alert that day as I narrated my experiences... how I encountered questioning upon departure at the airport, how I went into the Palestinian Territories and lit a candle for her at the Nativity Church, how I got her all these goodies (honey and dates and pine nuts) from Israel so she can enjoy them when she goes home...

Later, when she had her feeding tube removed, I  jumped on the occasion to make her something special. She said she wanted congee, so I made congee out of 5 different kinds of grains, steamed an egg and red beets, brought seaweed and olives, sliced up some ginger... and made a pineapple, blackberry and raspberry smoothie. A great big feast.
But it was all devastated by a chat with the oncologist who said despite her perkiness the prognosis has not improved.

And it all went quickly downhill... I did not visit the day after my birthday (21 Feb), but did visit today (23 Feb), when she was obviously struggling for breath and panting profusely. There were so many waiting to see her and spend time with her, so many we were taking turns, and in between sitting in the waiting room reminiscing what a wonderful lady she is and how she, made us laugh with her unique character and personality. Strangers bonded by this lively, jovial and spirited person who touched our lives and touched the lives of so many she did not know, including the dozens of kitty cats she rescued and nursed back to health...

To me, she was like an older sister, perhaps even a mother. When we first met, I remember she said a special (?) person would come into her life, as her tarot card readings had predicted that. Friends joked and asked whether they have adopted me as the son they never had. She often called or texted to ask me how I'm doing, how work is progressing. .She and her husband have been inviting me to all the big holidays, because they know I'm all alone and feeling crappy during these family events. She made me feel less like an orphan, she cared, genuinely cared and loved me... What brief time we knew one another, she made me  heal and feel cared for again more than anyone has been able to since mum left... I may not realise the pain and loss I truly feel until later. I've been able to be strong, but for how much longer...?

Now she joins the countless cancer warriors, like the friend who passed two weeks earlier, joins her beloved parents and uncle whom she cared for till the very end... joins the cats she has cared for till their final moments.

I was not there, but I imagine she had a peaceful passing, and is welcomed in wherever beautiful, loving, caring souls go after leaving the world of pain and suffering and drudgery in the hospital intensive care ward.

Cancer steals from us again, but cannot and can never rob us of our memories and love for the dearly departed...

A day in February 2017

Hospitals... such a hub of activity, sometimes joyful,  but more often than not a place you visit when someone is ill, or when your are yourself ill. The incessant background noise, the code blues, the whirring and wheezing of machinery, beeping of monitors,  the heaving of sick patients, the tears and sobs of loved ones. It's not a place for the faint of heart. It's a place I dreaded stepping into for so long after mums final visit , a place of sickness and death, of pain and suffering... But also a place of love,  and hope. if there were no love,  no hope,  what else is there to life? 

It's coming  up to two weeks since my friend has been admitted to hospital. Much of last week she was heavily sedated and there were talks she would not last long. It's been heavy, for the husband especially,  and for the friends and colleagues who love and care about. She's still in, intubated and unable to speak, reddish fluid, probably toxic and putrid with cancerous cells and growth, keep draining her lungs. There's talk of removing the tubes now that she's more conscious,  and seemingly stronger,  but there's the fear she won't be able to breathe on  her own now that one lung has completely collapsed,  and the other is punctured. All the while,  tumour growth keep multiplying and producing fluids that build up and must be drained,  otherwise it's like the person is drowning on  the inside. 

What cruel, unimaginable twist in the story did some mighty being add to torture such a beautiful soul? Why all this pain,  this suffering, and the constant struggle for life at an age that in today's day and age is still so youthful and the prime of someone's life? 

It's hard to watch her in such a state,  for she's always been a vocal, lively lady,  so full of life,  full of love and always caring about others-- about me, for since we met, she's always had a soft spot for me and seen me as an "orphan". There's really little I, or anyone else,  can do but be there. Wait, watch,  keep her company,  remind her in her waking moments we are waiting and there with her every step of the way. Hold her hand, stroke her arms and legs and let her know again and again we are there. Though we cannot take away the pain,  the anxiety or agony,  we are there with her. 

 

I was supposed to go somewhere far for work, but I cancelled (though after days of struggle, trying to convince myself that work is far less important than life and friendship, even though I knew deep down inside what I wanted all along). My boss told me how he admires me for my humanity, for my strength... but would not everyone do the same for a friend or loved one in need? My only regret js not being able to see roos and koalas again. But they're around and not threatened. My friend may not be for ever. 

It's a beautiful day out today, and I find myself sitting on a park bench writing this, sitting under a column of vines, in a setting that, before sitting down,  gave me a flashback to the park and vines next to the hospital mum (and dad)  was at . Different times,  different people in my life... but all the same,  facing death, confronted by illness, fighting f-ucking cancer and all the nausea,  pain,  suffering and hopelessness and all the rest of it. Am I stronger? Better prepared and collected?  Is that my "gift" to be able to sit there and calmly hold her hand and not (or at least barely...) flinch with every dire diagnosis?

all the while,  the world keeps spinning and turning and life moves on. 

Mumories

Even if I don't or didn't remember, she was there. She was always there. And she is always and always will be there.

In the background, being mum, being my mum.

While reminiscing with a friend about an event a couple of years ago (seven to be exact now...), I was just reminded that mum was there. In the house where I lived, the same houSe that I recently helped to clean and clear out in preparation for my family's relocation.

She was there when my friend visited me. She met him there for the first time. But somehow I don't remember any of this. Somehow there was this lapse of memory, this disconnect and for a moment I couldn't picture mum in the picture and in those moments.

My friend said she went to get berries and prepared breakfast for us. She slept in the bedroom I used to sleep in (had the house been renovated yet? I don't think so...), I slept in the living room alone.

I remember what I did with my friends during that visit. But I don't recall mum or the things we did with mum. We must have walked in the forest behind our house. We must have gone to the rose garden close by. We must have walked on the beach together and watched the sun go down... But these memories have faded, as I dreaded, with time. A fleeting memory that will grow fainted with time and age.

"You wanna make a memory?
You wanna steal a piece of time?
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines"

Read more: Bon Jovi - (You Want To) Make A Memory Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

En route to AMS

AC824 en route to AMS

What a turbulent two weeks it has been. A break up, suddenly, out of nowhere, without warning, which left me down in the dumps and struggling to find joy or energy to do anything... At least yesterday, he told me it's finally over, he needs time and space to be by himself. He said he said it as much as it hurts him to say so, but it was cruel to keep me hanging on and have no news or no contact whatsoever. At least that is over. I wrote him a last letter, a "get well" card, thanking him for everything, and saying "adieu", to God, should God (or the universe) wills it. Inshallah. I still care about him deeply. More than I realise, I'd fallen for him and grown so used to his presence (even though much of it from a distance and just through text messages) and the beautiful times and moments we shared together.

Did it mean anything at all?
Did it? It meant so much to me.
But maybe I was again just foolish, a fool in love, and blinded by love.

Time to move on... To pick myself up and move on. Or at least try.

Try to dispel those thoughts, try to exorcise those longings and feelings,  those doubts and questions that remain unanswered... Try to mourn the death of yet another in my life and adjust to a "new normal".

How did it all change so quickly

Hard when all this was happening in the run up to the anniversary of mum's departure. Which happens to be today four years ago , according to the lunar calendar. And it was (almost) exactly five years ago that we canoes on Lake Louise together. What beautiful, beautiful memories, mumories as I like call them.

How apt that on this day, I should be flying to Europe to do the crazy thing of helping my brother and his family move. Who would in their right mind spend time and money to fly across continents and help them? I guess I must be insane.

But here I am on board the plane and heading east to Europe. One night of sleep in Holland and then I'll be off with my brother and his friend in a van on the 10hr journey to his new home in Aarhus. I don't know why it didn't dawn on me earlier... Where am I going to sit? Is there even space at all for me to sit for that long drive? I will be so exhausted...

But all for family. All I can think of is how mum and dad would be so proud and happy to see me making an effort to help, to keep this family together after they have left this world. That must mean something. At least to me, it is an invaluable sign of togetherness and giving. With the added bonus that I get to see my nephew and niece again, and now the added reason that I can physically be away from Canada and leave all these images and places behind that are laced with memories of what could have been but is not...

Reflections at 4.40am

We all have our own sufferings and pains, worries and things that keep us aweike at night.

I have mine, someone else has his own.
Some are more able to deflect them and not let things distract and derail their lives and routine. Others, like me, are bogged down in thoughts, musings, anxieties and longings, weighed down by memories, by the past, by loss and loneliness.

Who is happier?
Who is responsible for one's happiness but you?
Pictures on Facebook don't tell the whole story of one's pain and suffering.

Let go... Let go... Everything, everyone is  just a meeting of dates, images, moments and memories in the continuum of time that seem to mean so much , but are in fact nothing.

Falling so deeply

I've been at home for the whole day, feeling useless and depressed, feeling utterly wracked with sorrow and hopelessness. How did I get to this point? How did I let myself fall so low?

Loss of love, loss of companionship and meaning... I fell , gradually, into the believe there was something stable and real, and now I need to climb out of that cesspool of attachment, desire and rid myself of all that was surreal and tell myself I am worth it,remind myself i am  able to live life on my own again.

My cousin called me as she noticed my songs were so sad and lonesome... And that messages were read but not replied to... She sensed something was wrong, and indeed, I've been so destroyed and a complete wreck for the better part of the past week or so. The fact that the anniversary of mum's passing is coming up isn't helping at all... It all just reminds me how lonely I am. How alone I am...

I need to shake myself out of this nonsense... This laziness and this turmoil of thoughts of despair and sorrow.
I need to rid myself of negativity and try to pick my life up again...

Another chapter closed

I got a message today from my sister-in-law telling me the house in Taipei has been sold. Around two weeks ago, my brother messaged me and said there was someone interested, but the price was a bit on the low side. I reminded him he got the house on a windfall, and that he's had it for almost five years now and received rent from it. What more does he expect...? I'm glad he took my advice and sold it.

At the same time, that is closing of the last chapter of anything that remains from our mum (...and indirectly, our parents). I went to see the place two months back when I was in Taipei, even if it were just to walk by it. A little walk filled with nostalgia and memories.

Soon, in two weeks, the next chapter of my family's life will be closed when my brother leaves the home I live 10yrs of my life in (in the Hague). It's long since not been mine, not since my brother bought it from my parents, but still, it's the place I've lived at the most (a third of my life to date, quite an achievement, given how much I move around...)

It would have been sadder, I imagine, if I had no place to call my own. But at mum's urging, and three years after she passed, I finally had the courage and the willpower to go out and search and get something that I can call home. That was exactly a year ago.

I have a place of my own, where I feel so comfortable, feel really at home (though it's still a mess, and still so many boxes are unopened and remain locked behind the door of the spare bedroom...).  But for once, I have a place of my own, where I feel safe and secure, finally, after so many years of drifting around and searching for a home.

People wonder why I am so protective of my place and don't like to have any random person over... because it's my own place, my castle, the home of my kids (the kitties) and where all my earthly possession are. I guard it safely and really have no wish to let just about anyone in. It's mum's wish, I remember her telling me that in those final weeks of her life, for she was not so pleased that before, when I was renting, I would have friends (in need) over and stay with me just because they needed a place to stay (and always not even charging a cent...). It's different now. More so as one by one, family home after family home, the places where parts of my (his)story have been written and created are closing and will forever be out of reach.

Coming up to five years since mum left, things are finding a "new normal". I'm more collected, and able to go about my daily life and routine (though there still are those moments... those moments I just want to sleep and shut out all these emotions of loss and longing...). I've come a really long way, and stumbled into unique opportunities at work that will over the next three years or so take me far and wide (and I have a feeling cement my career and name for the rest of my life...).

Speaking of life, who knows how much of it I have...For the past three months, I've been to see the cardiologist three times, and the latest appointment on Friday (with a second opinion specialist) confirmed what I have. Arrhythmia of the heart, whereby it beats much, much faster than a normal person. Which explains why I get tired so easily, so tired I sometimes just want to close my eyes and lie down, even for just ten minutes to compose myself... It's not immediately fatal, but with time and age, it may be. The doctor recommends treatment-- either pills for the rest of my life, with the consequence that I may be perpetually sluggish and fatigued... or a small surgery (but with a risk of permanent damage, or worse, cardiac arrest and death if they puncture the heart...) to "burn away" the part of my heart, like a little battery, that is beating away when it should not be.

The alternative is to do nothing. And let things be. I've so far not been affected or even noticed anything wrong with my heart (except the occasional black out, and times I've tipped over and found myself on the floor because I temporarily could not see... but that may be more related to quick changes of posture than my heart... and is this at all related to occasional heart aches I experience? who knows?). I did not know I had a serious problem until I had a regular check up. Serious, because a margin of 2-3% faster heart beat than normal is acceptable. Mine is 14% faster. Which may mean the heart will exhaust and wear itself out quicker over my life span than a normal person.

And things could be normal for a long time... but when things go sour, they may go sour very quickly, perhaps without notice.

It's all conjecture... who knows what wil happen? I may be hit by a car, crash in a plane, fall and slip in the bathroom and be knocked unconsciousness till the cats eat me for food because nobody has fed them for days... Or, if fate or god(s) or the universe wills it, my heart may pump so fast my body cannot take it anymore...

Who knows what will happen. I do know I do not wish to take meds, and I do not want to undergo surgery (even if the cardiologist said the procedure is minor...but the associated risks, even though low percentage wise, are major). For now, I'll just gamble and let the heart and fate be.


But it's scary and again puts things into perspective... I'm more or less alone in the world now, and I have to face these matters of life and death alone. I'm not scared, not anxious or anything... just resigned to the fact and realise again, life is only so much.

And so it ends

Just like that...

No, not just like that, but I had felt the distance growing.
Since our conversation a few weeks back in Toronto, at the end of his visit. He's really into anal, I'm not. I said I can do it, but I have to be ready and prepared... as I'm nervous. But since then he's been having doubts. Messages would go whole day without a reply, articles I shared before about relationship and love (which would trigger immediate responses), would be read and not replied to.

He's so sweet, and caring... but I guess the growing distance revealed his real self (or his insecurity and doubts (to give him the benefit of the doubt) after the end of a long 7yr relationship...?). Is sex really that important? He said he was not fulfilled emotionally in the old relationship, they had become roomates living a routine life and lacked excitement... With me, at least I thought, there was something special, magical, passionate and romantic. So I thought.

IT comes. It goes. It begins. And before you know it , it ends.

Who knew, it would end the night before a big lecture when I am so ill prepared still?