Lingering troubles

It's been a few days since I last spoke to mum, and I finally managed to reach her, despite the poor connection and having to call back many times because the call kept disconnecting (what do you expect being out in the woods of Peribonka?)

I sensed something was wrong, for mum was short in her response and kept on wanting to hang up quickly. Then she finally admitted two things on her mind...

First of all, her arm aches are returning again, and it feels now as if she never went through the radiotherapy. That distresses her, and really pulls me down, but there's little I can do about it but worry and wish she would not feel  so much pain. Imagine that pain, that constant source of discomfort an having to live with it every waking moment of the day (and night)... She's going to consult the neurosurgeon, but that could potential point to just one solution: life risking surgery that will take months of recovery...
I do not want to think of that now, and I am sure she no more than o don't want to...

Then, she detailed her latest argument on the phone with my brother just yesterday. She wanted to let him/ them know how she felt really marginalized and neglected while she was staying with them in Europe, but brother apparently struck back and said that it's all because mum is so difficult to please and serve. That caused her so much anger and sent her blood pressure soaring (that's how she described it).

How disappointed I was listening to this all, and even in the tranquility of the forest, I felt my mind and mood cloud over.

Even after a week or so of being at home, mum still cannot let go of how she felt she was treated, and brother seems to have so little thought for her, who really cannot, should not, for the sake of her health and not aggravating her illness, have any unnecessary stress or tension.

"Please, mum" i said, "Just live your life and take care of yourself. Please don't let the past linger..." I said what I could say, I showed her the care and love I could offer from this distance, and I need to make peace with that, however inadequate what i have said or done may feel like.

Sudden change

It all came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, and I felt so miserable and unprepared. I let out a load groan, and felt like things were turning so sour because it was all so rough and  painful to deal with.

But at moments when you are thrown in a sticky situation, you adapt, you change, you mend your plans and desires to accommodate a new  reality you did not forsee. And at times, it turns out to be a pleasant surprise, and you enjoy the process at the end of the day.

The rain came so quickly we were all unprepared. Though we had seen the signs, seen the dense dark clouds looming tall and approaching fast, we thought we could outrun and outsmart nature. But no, the rain bombarded us like pellets, and soon we were drenched, and had to hide to protect ourselves from the rain, the thunder and lightning, and from the frightening blowing wind.

Originally we wanted to head to a camp site deep inside a scenic national park, but the rain dampened our hopes and spirits, and we just decided to call it a day and find anywhere to rest for the night. Keeping warm and keeping dry was our priority, and we sought hard for a place to stay.

Upon  a little town we stumbled, and we rode into the camping ground and inquired about the availability of a "deluxe" tent. We were in luck, ad soon we dried ourselves (and our luggage) inside the cosy tent for four which had its own little kitchen.

We settled in, and with a fellow traveller I went to pick up groceries from a local convent store. There was very little choice except for canned veggies and pasta, but with some garlic and butter, we soon fixed up an amazing dinner and sat down to enjoy the cool evening over ases of wine. The food was so simple, yet perhaps the hunger and tiredness, it felt and tasted like it was a luxurious meal at a fancy restaurant, and we chatted and laughed into the night.

Such simple surroundings, in the middle of the woods, the rain splashing on our roof, the sounds of crickets calling and/or laughter. Such simple joy and fun there is to be had.

And all this because, or in spite,  of a sudden change in our plans, and a dramatic change in the weather.

long bike ride

I only learned about this trip a few days ago. A 256km ride around Lac St Jean, in central Quebec, on a bike route known as Route des Bluets, due to te abundance of blueberries in this region, especially at this time o the year.

I was a little hesitant at first, afraid to be imposing on the plans of someone I had just met and who happened to share my love of biking. But she insisted it would be no trouble at all , and as they say, the more the merrier.

So with three others, we sped through the night to the area and checked in late at a B&B. The next morning, we started biking toward our destination some 90km further north.

The scenery is beautiful, with rolling hills and valleys, and at times the broad, inviting blur surface of Lac St Jean itself in the not so far away distance. We went at a steady pace, paused here and there for photo ops and to visit historic sites, but generally we are a fun and friendly bunch of people who, though some of us have never met before, are fast beginning good biking buddies.

Again, being on a bike and going the long distance made me feel so alive and invigorated. Initially I was afraid of the distance, but really going at a steady pace you hardly feel or notice.



Of course, there are moments when i think of my friend and imagine how great it would be to do this long bike ride together, for we've so often talked about going here and there... And at times, I was reminded of the charity bike ride we did last year, our longest together yet, when we just felt so happy and trouble free being next to one another.

But I could forget, at least temporarily anyways. Forget what had pulled me down for so long, and I could feel myself, my body be so strong and so determined to continue. Forget, and leave all the noises and troubles that has so disturbed me for the last few weeks, months, and just focus on the road, on the peddling, on getting to where we are headed. It is wonderful to distract yourself and to remind yourself that beyond your worries, fears and attachments, is a world so vast, so beautiful and all of it waiting to be explored and taken in with the mind and eyes.

Tonight we are camping outdoors, merely a few steps from a broad river of rough rapids. I can hear the water, crashing and tumbling, I can smell the scent of an open campfire, and I can feel the romance I always feel wing outdoors and being with nature (less bugs would be nice though...).

Time for a good rest, relax my body, to enjoy that momentary peace of mind and resting of my soul.

leaving town

It was an abrupt goodbye, but sometimes that is what is needed. A hug, rushed, a kiss, a whisper in the ear: "Take care..."

Though we were at the office, though I was rushing to proofread something I promised someone, we spent a good two hours talking. About him, about his confusions, about him been so torn and having such strong feelings toward the other boy. We talked, about where we are going, where we have come from, and what we mean to one another, if anything now after such a long time and becoming so deeply ingrained in one another's lives and thoughts....

I told him how much he means to me, what happiness he brought me, not just in our period together as a real couple, but from the day we first met, from that night we first connected deep into the night... Even if I'm hurting and struggling hard with heartbreak and pain to a degree Ive never before felt, he taught me I can love, and be loved in return

I wished him, perhaps for the first time, without any pain or regret, at least not at that moment when the words escaped my mouth, that he can one day find someone who will give him happiness, care and love more than i ever could. Because I'm not sure if i ever lived up to what is expected of a boyfriend, and i know i have at times disappointed him even as a friend.

He deserves to be happy, we all do. And if I cannot offer that to him any more, I hope someone else can do that, can give him butterflies, give him smiles when he wales up everyday and give him a reason to work, to dream and to live for another day, and so much more.

At one point he broke down and cried and cried. I wanted to hold him, comfort him but all I could offer was a cloth to wipe his snot and tears...

Then we kissed. It's been such a long time since we last kissed, and perhaps it would our last kiss. The passion was still there, the lips still felt so sort, the arousal so overwhelming and additive. His scent, his beautiful eyes, the stubble of his face, the touch of his soft fingers and strong arms. It felt like the first time we were intimate, like there was no one else and everything in the world just stopped, stopped like my heart beat. And there in the office, Wight the door locked, and our colleagues steps away, we had sex yet again, and it felt wrong; it felt so naughty, but oh it felt so relieving and so good.

A rushed goodbye, a quick kiss on the lips, and we parted ways. I'm headed out of town to escape, to get away, and he to the gym to distract himself and to find temporary peace and sanity.

We will meet again, I'm sure of that. Under what circumstances, under what mindset, I'm not sure. but meet again we shall, because after all the tears, talks, tensions, let downs, we are special to one another, we mean something to one another. He knows it, i know it.

Meet again we shall, and I look forward to that.

Going away

Time to get away, get away from it all. Time to lose myself in nature, disappear into the wild, allow my mind and thoughts to drift with the breeze and shivering leaves.
 

Remembering the ancestors

The other day was  the biggest celebration during the Ghost Month, a day when people in Taiwan commemorate their ancestors and worship "wandering ghosts". Originally, I wanted to throw a party, but I was stressed about my immigration interview, and I was also an emotional wreck after a few difficult days of talking and reconciling with my friend, so I needed to postpone. As a temporary tribute, I laid out a few fruits and invited my members of my family who have long passed away, invited my dad, to come, and promised that I would prepare something more sumptuous later in the month.

Mum today went to the temple to pay respects to dad's remains, and she took with her a number of dishes for  him and our ancestors, and plenty of fruits as well as paper money to be burnt as an offering. It went well, she said, and she also took the opportunity to stand before dad's urn and tell him about her trip to see my brother and I. That was very touching to hear, especially as I know she goes through a lot of trouble, all on her, and has to travel a great distance to complete the commemoration ceremony. I wished I could have been there, to help her, and to 'see' my dad and ancestors in person...

I will have to do something soon, as I promised I would.

one last time?

A few days ago he wrote to me after a night of intense passion, in which he made a commitment to himself. He has an objective in mind, to try and try again to be with the boy he fell for back in November... and unless there is some kind of resolution, whether they get back together or he is turned away cold, he cannot let this go. In the mean time, he cannot have any more physical relations with me... for his own sake, for my sake, so as not to mislead me or hurt me, and for our sake...

But since, we broken that promise, tried to convince ourselves that what we were doing (pleasuring one another) was not fully sex. The temptation of each other's bodies is just too much, too much to bear and resist. And today again we broke that commitment. Was it me, did I push the boundaries? Did I tempt him lying next to him after a game of sweaty tennis on such a beautiful day? But he wanted it as much as I did, or so was the impression.

Afterwards as we were healing, hugging one another, he suddenly told me the latest update between him and the boy he cannot let go of or stop thinking about. I turned away, cold, and got up. I was not angry, but the timing was just so misplaced... We were just intimate, and almost immediately afterwards, he began to tell me about the other person.

It was just poor timing, for which he did apologise. From the look on his face he was again heavy and glum, even though it had been a wonderful day so far.

But for a many moments, I felt like I did not exist. I felt like i was so easily dispensable, so forgettable, so easily forgettable and could easily disappear from his life in the blink of an eye. Even though I was physically next to him, even though I was looking at his face, feeling his body, he did not seem to see my face, did not seem to see me. After being a couple, after our shortlived relationship, it feels like we were now back to those heydays when sex was just... sex, and nothing else. Is it this way? How disappointing it felt reaching that conclusion, knowing that after all we have gone through, the many beautiful moments we have shared in so many places, I am just an aside on his life stage.

I guess I have only myself to blame, and I am not upset at him. I have myself to blame for not being able to let go of his body, for being so caught up with sexual and physical satisfaction... I have only myself to blame for wanting to lie next to him, for wanting to stroke his skin ever so softly and for wanting to feel his breath and smell his scent... Who am I to him now, really, who am I to him now, when so soon after sex he could start thinking and talking about the boy he is so into and cannot let go of?

I have somehow lost my touch on my friend, lost my appeal on him, and his mind, his feelings are set on someone else. That cannot change, unless he finds some kind of resolution for his feelings. I knew that, and I guess I've known that since he began to slowly, slowly reveal the truth of what happened between them, and why things broke down and why we broke up back in May. The feelings of romance, of love between us must be suppressed and buried.

Sex with him has always been so intoxicating, but it seems to become more and more poisonous. But is that poison why it feels so good, so naughty, so desirable? I need to really let go of that longing, let go of that physical desire, however ovewhelming and magical it can be. I need also to let go of wanting to be with my friend, of longing to see him when I am lonely and upset. It is best for everyone, and best for my own protection...

Talked out

My friend was there as I came out of the immigration interview. He had beautiful flowers in his hand, blue (violet) and white, symbolic of my new adoptive homeland's national colours. I pretended at first that I had not succeed, but could not contain my happiness that I finally secured the first step towards permanent residence here in Canada. I kissed him on the cheeks, and hugged him many times, thanking him over and over again. He was also very happy for me, and smiled so many times so beautifully at me.

We went out to lunch, and I excitedly told him about how the interview went. We met other friends who were all sent me wellwished and congratulations. It was a generally happy evening, despite my fatigue from the stress and sleeping only a few hours.

Then he came home with me, and that was when the mood suddenly, unexpectedly changed. It began with him snooping around my email inbox, one thing led to another, and we were up till late again having difficult discussions about his feelings and confusions, about our former relationship,  deciphering our minds and the past. It is good to get all the thoughts and words out into the open, good for my friend to vent all the bottled emotions and frustrations. All of what was said seems now like a blur, (or perhaps I am just too tired to be able to digest them and coherently put them into words...?) At one point, it felt all a bit much, with my long and stressful day and interview, and then having to sort through emotional luggage which is not getting any lighter.

Even so, I promised my friend I would be there to listen, that I would be there to support and comfort him when he needed.  I think I did that, even though at times it was very heavy and difficult to listen and not be affected deep down. I sat, and I listened, because that is what friends do for one another... that is what he has done for me on numerous occasions, and my friend deserves, needs nothing less from me.

By the end of it all, we were all talked out, and we lay next to one another in bed, trying to, pretending to fall asleep. I felt his breath, the warmth of his body, felt the softness of his skin, the sensuality of his touch. I can only imagine how the smell and warmth and touch of my body aroused him too. And again, like so often in the past, after long, difficult and painful talks, we began to explore each other's bodies. Did it feel good? Was it so intoxicating and so damned arousing? Yes, it was, yes it was... Did we both need relief, and did we succumb to our desires and simple, carnal pleasures? Yes, we did, yes, we did.

But the questions, the doubts, the confusions are still lingering and lurking around in the background...

one small step

I was nervous, stressed as the minutes ticked toward 1330hrs, 15 August 2011. I rushed to my office to get a last minute documentation from my professor, and received many hugs and pats on the back from my friend, and many "you'll be just fine"s from my colleagues.

Even so, sitting in that waiting room waiting doe my name to be called seemed to take forever.

Eventually, a lady called my name, and our eyes met, and we would sit across each other from a desk for the next 40min or so, with a colleague of hers sitting in the back, watching the whole interview take place.

She began. From the first impression, she didn't have the friendliest of face or make a very warm impression. But she was articulate and spoke French clearly and slowly so even I could understand, which allayed my fears. Most questions were about my education and work experience, as well as work prospects here in Quebec. I answered her, telling her all my experiences, and showed her letters of recommendation, one of which was written by my former boss, who was a Quebecoise. That made a positive impression indeed.

I had expected questions on Quebec culture, history or even being asked my opinion of the thorny issue of independence... but none of those came up. Instead, she asked me about the topic of my thesis, and what I find difficult most of all in my research, which I was unprepared for, especially in language I have only a basic command of. Even so, I explained (or tried to at least...) in French, and she somehow understood.

At one point she typed on her computer for a good few minutes. That didn't look right, I thought, but then she turned around and began to compliment me on my level of French (she said it was very "fluide", which as a friend later would say is not proper French, but I guess means "flowing", or fluent). Of course I need to improve my French skills, and learn more vocabulary, but the basic grammar and pronunciation is sound, and she was very surprised. As was I, and I smiled when she said that.

From one moment complimenting me on my level of French, came the next moment. "Congratulations," she said with a smile, "You have successfully obtained your CSQ" (Quebec Selection Certificate). I smiled, and smiled, "Merci infiniment," I said, "Merci, merci, merci..." 

I left the interview with a piece of paper in my hand. A piece of paper with my name on it. A moment of pride it was, a moment of happiness and sense of achievement I have not felt in a long, long time. I needed that, needed to feel and savour that, even if that were to disappear quickly. But I needed that to remind myself that I still have it within me... to work hard, to put effort into something, and to succeed.

It was not as if I spent a lot of time preparing for the interview, but over the last week or so, I have been reviewing my documents, and with the help of two friends, I have been jotting down on paper and mentally sentences in simple French to introduce myself and 'sell' myself.

I guess deep down inside, I somehow knew I would obtain the right to stay on in the country as a skilled worker. But I needed to prove myself, and to show myself that I could do it. All my experiences, all my diplomas, all those years spent living in different countries, all those languages I speak... it is as if I have spent my whole life preparing for this moment, to be assessed and scrutinised by a society, by a country, with its own rules and regulations, with its needs and demands of what it means to play a role here.

And how wonderful it is to know that I am welcome in this country. How wonderful it is to know that this country values my skills and talents and welcomes me to be a part of this society based on immigrants and tolerance and equality.

It feels wonderful to belong, as I said during my interview... to belong, and to feel at home. And the piece of paper with my name of it is a small step to securing my sense of belonging, to permanently building my home here in Canada.

entrevue

After almost three years here in Quebec, tomorrow will be a decisive day. The day which will more or less decide whether I continue staying here.

Probably it's not as dramatic as that, but it'll be a first step toward receiving permanent residence.

I've been dragging my feet on applying, and finally took the bold step last year October. Now, almost ten months later, I've been called to an interview (though, I was first contacted back in May for an interview, which was supposed to take place while I was in Taiwan with mum).

People who have gone through it tell me it's not as difficult as I imagine it. Most of all, they want to know whether I have a foundation in French ( which I do, albeit very basic and conversational), and to know why I want to stay here. And from online forums, the immigration officer would want to see and verify all my documents. At the end of the 30-60min interview my "fate" will be decided with either a success or failure.

If I fail I can apply again after I polish my language skills... My friend has said numerous times he'd willingly sponsor me so I can stay in the country... But, as much I appreciate the selfless offer, it is too much to accept, and I would feel depreciated as a person if I cannot even make it past immigration based on my own skills and abilities. If I succeed, it'll be perhaps the single greatest personal achievement in the last two, three years.

After a lot of downs lately, I more than ever i need something to make me feel accomplished and alive again. It will be a very big boost of confidence and prompt me to start my life with a new beginning, with more certainty and determination.

Tomorrow this time, I will know the answer.

Words

There had been a build up, an accumulation of tears and words, confusion, hurt and misunderstanding. It's been going on since the end of November last year, it has been dissected and cried over over many waking moments and sleepless nights. It has consumed the lives of my friend, me and another.

The spread of pain and silence is infectious. And the silence, the untold stories and truths has been churning inside, unable to be digested, and unsettled on all of our minds and souls for over half a year.

 And today, perhaps as part of what you could call a week of truth (-and-reconciliation?), whereby he told me bit by bit what he felt went wrong with our relationship, and about his desire for the other person, he said to me what had so often crossed his mind. It filled him with such resentment and bitterness. He paused before he said it, with such quiet calm and resolve. "Why did you do this to me?" he asked... why did I stand in the way of his happiness? Why did I keep him away from that special, special happiness he finally found? He lamented, and told me outright that back then, in November last year when he was started to date the new guy, it would have been so wonderful, so much less complicated if I could have said to him "it is nice to see you happy" and to give me my blessings. But instead I stood in the way... I put him in a difficult position. And everything is soured now as a result, everyone is hurting, everyone is alone and lost and confused.

He sobbed in my bed, over the happiness, that pure and simple happiness he had tasted and was lost because I got in the way, because I turned to him one day after he started seeing someone else and made him choose. He sobbed, perhaps hurting so deeply inside about whether he can ever find that happiness he experienced with the other boy.

What he said was so painful, so indicting I wondered how we had come to this... How did our relationship end like this, how can all those beautiful moments we had over the last two years, and the wonderful three months we had together as a 'real' couple, be so blighted by such a conclusion?

I admit I have my failings, that for a long time I treated him poorly and never saw (or wanted to see...) the care and love he was showering me. I admit I took his care and love for granted, and rarely returned it. And I broke his heart so many times when he tried to be with me, and I broke his heart again when he was finally getting over me and getting together with someone else. But did I really not want to see him happy? Was I really so jealous and so cruel that I did not care about his happiness?

I do not know the answer to that... but all I know for sure is that when we were together, I swear I tried, tried and tried so hard to make him smile and be happy, to make him feel like he is special and beautiful, to make him realise how happy he makes me feel, what light he has brought into my life ever since the day we met... yet deep down inside, he could not get over the fact that I stole and trampled on the one true happiness he found. All I could do was apologise again and again for my wrong doing. I accept the blame... I accept the resentment, I accept my faults and wrongs.

By the end of it, we hugged and made peace, held hands, I kissed him on the cheeks, he me on the forehead. Even though he said we should not dwell on the past any more and move on, I was left with lingering feelings of remorse and guilt...

"Tonight, love is in your eyes"

 We went to an open air concert together, a cool evening in the middle of Summer, stood on a grass field surrounded by a faceless crowd. The singer, a renowned Quebecois singer from the eighties, sang...

For a few moments, there was but the singer on stage, the music, and my friend next to me.

As rudimentary as my French is, I could understand the lyrics. The words spoke to me, and my body swayed  with the melody.

"Tonight love is in your eyes, 
But tomorrow morning will you love me a little?
Tonight love is in your voice, 
But tomorrow morning will you think of me? "

I stole a  glance at him, and wondered whether the words too spoke to him. There was an awkward silence, or so it felt, as we both stood and swayed our bodies slowly to the sweet, bitter, bitter sweet, melody and words.  He turned to me and said that the song was sombre. I smiled lightly, and said nothing.



The very night, we made passionate love, and were so into one another's bodies. He even whispered to me that everytime touching me feels like the first time... The passion, the dizzying romance, the slow yet building climax was so intense, so difficult, so very difficult to resist...

note to self

...and yet, the mind cannot be quietened, the thoughts keep on drifting, longings and loss keep on returning.

Something inside

Something died inside me. Was that hope? Was that a dream? Was that a temporary longing and sense of belonging?

Something died inside me. Now it is clear: we are just friends now. Friends in the most encompassing sense of the world, friends  who know so much, perhaps too much about one another... friends who feel so deeply for one another... Friends who have brought so much joy and pain and anger and longing into one another's lives. The kind of friends who seem unable to hate one another despite what we have put one another through. The kind of friends who love one another, but short of being lovers. Maybe that day may still come... I do not know, but now it is clear we are no more than just friends.

I can sit and listen, sit and hear him pour his heart out. For I am his friend, and he is mine. I can hug him, stroke his back, rub his face in a signal of my care and my concern for his wellbeing. And he can do the same too me. But te sexual tensions must die, must be suppressed.

I told him how much I love him, how I care about him so deeply. I have never ere felt this way about anyone. It is true. I have felt this way for such a long time.

 But he loves another, he has ever since they first met. even though he chose to be with me at one point, he never could forget, he never could let go of the other person.

How deep is that love? How does that love he feels compare to the love he says he feels toward me? There are so many kinds of love. Love cannot be compared, cannot be measured.

However much it pains me, I let my friend go. As they say, you love someone so much you can only wish them happiness, wherever, with whomever he may find it. I have to bolden myself, strengthen my weak heart and mind and be strong... I wished him happiness, true happiness and freedom from all the complications we find ourselves entangled in...

I wish him that, even though it is hard, even though it hurts. And I know he once had to bear all that hurt and pain when I was not ready, not willing to be with him...

 He too wished me so many times in the past genuine happiness and finding true love, even though deep down inside, in his throat, in his heart he hurt so much saying it, thinking it. And now I think I feel what he must have felt.

I kissed his tears, his salty, his sweet tears, looked into his beautiful eyes, felt his beautiful face with my fingers. One last look, one last feel to remember him by... I will remember, and I will treasure our beautiful moments together, throughout these past three years.

I'll be around, I said. And I promised to be there to hold him, to comfort him should he need me. I told him to call, to text, to write when he wants to, when he needs to. Because I want to e there for him, be there for him as he has been there for me for so long, so often.

And deep down I felt I could do that. Though time will tell how strong i truly am and whether I am truly capable.

You are in my heart...
You are on my mind...

breaking through

There are moments in life when you suddenly realise things and you break through... Break through the mysteries, the unanswered questions, break through the lies and hiding, break through those lingering feelings and longings.

Perhaps you don't break through completely, but you know you are taking the necessary steps to doing so. However much it hurts, however much your affection is for the comfort and familiarity of being with someone, you must let go. And i feel it, or perhaps I am concubcing myself that I feel that letting go, even though perhaps tonight, tomorrow or the year after I may be so filled and so exhausted by regret and guilt...

I dread to sleep alone tonight... I dread the dreams and the waking thoughts... I dread having to smile and put on a mask to the outside world and say that things are ok whenpeople ask how I'm doing.

But after the break through, it is time to collect yourself, to nurse yourself so that one day when I am ready, I can keep on walking...

Mum home again

Mum lost two, three kilos. In less than  a month with my brother and sister-in-law. Hearing that really makes my heart ache.

I cannot conceive,  cannot imagine exactly went 'wrong', if anything. Mum spoke to me for over half an hour, telling me her side of the story. How they would cook such meagre portions that she was afraid to eat... how eventually they did not want to cook for her, and on various occasions  told her to cook whatever she wants to eat... how, when brother is at work, my sister-in-law avoids mum and hides in her room... how sometimes they would go out in the weekend, and leave mum at home... She told me how on some days she would leave the house and stay out till the evening, coming home only when she had finished eating just to avoid the trouble of who will cook for whom.

Of course, it is all one side of the story. But I can imagine it happening, though I cannot comprehend how it can happen. I cannot comprehend how is it that only on the very last day, when they were taking mum to the airport, did they realise mum's arm is in a constant state of pain? Do they not see her discomfort? Do they not hear her moans if she does not take her six-hourly dosage of pain killers? Do they not care? Or are they just not as caring?

Mum is glad to leave Europe, she said, glad to be back in her own home. This trip made her realise many things, about herself, about my brother and the sister-in-law. And she said, which made me tear, how she appreciates how attentive and caring I was when she was with me... She still remembers how I used to buy so much fresh fruits and organic products and would make sure she eats and eats and eats.

Perhaps I do not know the dynamics of a married couple. And of course I do not know what it feels like to be caught in between your own mother and your wife. Sure, my brother works all day long, and is probably too tired most of the time to spend much time with mum... And to be fair, my sister in law is heavily pregnant, and I can only imagine that she's probably moody and insensitive these days.

...yet, how can mum feel so uncomfortable and disappointed being there? Sure she can be critical, maybe even overbearing at times that after a while it can get on your nerves. But she is our mother, and who knows when or if there will be a next visit...?

I would like to imagine, if one day I were to have a partner and a beautiful little home, I will continue to warmly open my home to my mother and try to make her as comfortable as she can be, just as I have done recently. I would do that all again, and not think it as too much trouble.

Despite all her complaints, mum sounded cheerful, and genuinely happy to be in the comfort of her own home, "without having to look at other people's faces" (meaning, not having to adjust to other people's moods or tempers).

"I'm glad you made it home safely," I said, "Now you can take care of yourself, eat whatever you like, do whatever you want."

And she promised me she will.

Homo@LV

I was surprised by the degree of intolerance and prejudice that still exists. Shocked at times even by the profanities and, literally, shit thrown at gays and lesbians as they attempt to march under heavy protection of the police. The situation was so severe during the first event in 2005 that they had to, like in the Middle Ages when people were facing persecution, seek refuge in a church.

But the documentary on Latvia's gay rights movement of  the past five years or so shows how behind the country is compared to other parts of the world, yet also shows the promises of little steps of progress that are being made.
Barely a year after joining he European Union, the bloc which  champions liberties, human rights and the protection of minorities, Latvia's first pride event would unveil a deep, deep divide in society. The opposing voices and opinions are like everywhere else: staunch supporters of traditional family values pitted against gays and lesbians who simply want to be accepted and recognised as equal members of the same society. A secular State by name, it is hinted, is perhaps not so secular after all, when the cardinal and priests attend political rallies.


One scene that was extremely moving was the marriage between a couple. Their love looks so genuine, their vows are  the same sworn by any other couple before God. Yet, there are many who will quickly jump up and condemn their despicable 'behaviour'. Who has the right to   come between two people and sour their relationship by denying them the right to be together? Why does it matter what one does in the privacy of their own homes and private lives? Fundamentally, why does it matter to anyone who you love, even if it is a person of the same sex? Yet, somehow, even in this day there are so many who cannot accept, cannot tolerate difference. 



The struggle of the LGBT movement reveals an interesting social and political phenomenon, especially for a little nation where, having emerged from the clout of Communism and the Soviet Union two decades ago, national unity and identity building is still very much a predominant political agenda.


 Yet, having overcome the threat from the "East", the political elite and clergy to drum up fears of national division by depicting homosexuality as an evil spreading in from the "West". Playing on people's ignorance and strong hold to tradition, homosexuality is portrayed as an ideology,the tide of which if not stemmed, will with the support of the European Union and its older, more liberal (and predominantly western) members, infiltrate and threaten to corrupt Latvian family values, social cohesion and children. The words that come out of anti-gay protesters are vile, coarse, and full of prejudice. To which gay activists and marchers respond by spreading happy greetings and love. Which will ultimately triumph in the end...? 


The struggles of the gay community in Latvia are the the only ones in the world, for there are many places, in Asia, in Africa, and even in communities of supposed advanced and developed democracies of North America and Europe, where homosexuals must live in hiding or in shame. A member of the audience, a spokesperson of sorts who originally hails from Cameroon, gave a moving and inspiring speech... Love, be proud, celebrate, and remember. Think of those who day in, and day out, do not enjoy the same privileges and benefits of being able to openly love, of being proud of who they are, and who must deny an intrinsic sense of their humanity. 

abuse of his care?

I just wanted to talk, really, just talk when he called just as I was ready to retire for the night. I just wanted to get my feelings and that sense of emptiness out of me.

But he insisted on coming over, in keeping me company, despite my protests not to. It's pouring rain out there, so heavy I can hardly see the houses across the street. But he insisted.

"You're my best friend!" he said. Best friends, ex-boyfriends, "special" friends... What we are are all these things, and much more. His insistence on seeing me was more than I could receive from anyone, more than i feel i deserve, more than I have ever received from anyone.

Touched, I truly am, yet I am also scared that I am abusing his care, exploiting his care and attention for my own benefit. Whatever we are to one another, he cannot always and forever be there to comfort me, to hug me when i'm feeling down. How far can I take and take without giving back?
And... And I have told myself so many times in the past: be strong, be independent, don't let others into my heart; don't let others make me feel vulnerable. But his care (and dare i say love) defies all that.

I told him I'll be alright, I just need some time alone, just need to sleep on my feelings, and they will go away. But he insisted on either coming over or me going to see him.

So I compromised, I gave into his care and eagerness to make me feel better, cheer me up and to make me feel less lonely.

Is it right?

Home again

Just came home, back to my little home, back to my little cat. It felt so quiet, so still...

Fixing myself a meal, I find myself wondering what I should eat. There is plenty of food in the fridge, but I just feel like throwing everything in one big pot and cooking it, regardless of whether it tastes good or not. It is hard sometimes to get the energy to do something for yourself.

Somehow, I just feel so fatigued. The feelings will go away, they sure will. I guess there are a combination of reasons for my fatigue... the day began with a long (and difficult) chat with a colleague about health and life,  worked a bit on my thesis, long walk with friends. And then late afternoon, I saw mum leave on the plane (indirectly, on a picture)....

Now that I'm home, the first thing I had to do was turn on the radio. In this somewhat vulnerable frame of mind, I cannot stand the silence, for it eats my mind, draws out the loneliness and emptiness that is brewing. The music, the songs and lyrics will hopefully fight those creeping feelings  (this one happens to be playing now...).



I hope I can sleep well tonight, and not be disturbed by dreams and my overwhelming, restless and overactive mind again...

Farewell, mum

I didn't hear from her again before her flight, but from the picture brother posted on facebook, I knew she had checked in and was about to board. Now, she must be wandering around the terminal building at Schiphol.

When I spoke to her earlier today, she said she was glad to go home. Some tensions developed during her stay in Europe, and she says she is glad to leave. I don't know whether it is on a bad note, but she did mention that she was disappointed somewhat by the way she was treated (or felt she was treated...)

I do not know why seeing this picture suddenly triggered tears in my eyes, why there is again this overwhelming sadness in me, even as I am sitting here at the office, that makes me feel so weak...

It reminds me of that feeling when I was sitting on the park bench as mum's plane took off and flew further and further away... Where, again I ask, are these tears coming from...?

Looking at her slim, frail figure, she looks so vulnerable, so alone. She will be going home to her own home. An empty nest, as she once called it.

And she will be going home to medical check ups, to appointments, and to the reality of her state of health after these two months. She will have to go through all this alone from now, for there is little I can do, little comfort I can offer except words on the other end of the line.

She told me earlier she read the card I had written her and clandestinely placed in her suitcase just before she left Canada. She said it touched her reading it again. In it, I hoped she can be happy. In it, I wished that she can find her own life, stand up on her own and find new purpose and meaning in life after all these travels.

I truly, truly hope so.

Bon voyage, mum...

Father's Day

While working today, I glanced at the calendar and realised: it's the 8th of August, or "Ba-ba Day" (Father's Day).

For a moment, I remembered what I used to do since my childhood, but stopped doing three years ago. I used to write to dad every year. Little cards, little messages telling him how much I appreciate him, how much I appreciate his presence in my life. Little cards, little messages that told him I care about his wellbeing, and that I love him for all that he has done, for all the sacrifices he has made throughout the years. 

Then, I could not control my tears. I could not control the sudden sadness that welled up within me...

I looked back, and saw a beautiful text I found online a couple of years ago. I read it again, and was overwhelmed that dad is no longer around, saddened I cannot give him the love and care I have received from him in so many ways.

I miss you still very deeply, dad...

I really do.


(Afscheid nemen bestaat niet...)

"Come as the wind that you feel, and the rain, 
Follow what you do as the light of the moon, 
Find me in everything then you will come across me.
Whisper my name, 
And I will be there...


See, what is invisible,
What you believe is true, 
Just open your eyes, 
And I will be with you.
All you have to do
Is believe my word

...Bidding farewell does not exist.

Look in the sky,
Look to the sea,
Wherever you shall walk, yes, I walk with you.
Every step and every moment,
Wherever you may be!"

Picture and a thousand words

Take a look at the picture... Three children in the foreground, smiling, carrying roses they are trying to sell.

One child, a girl, has a closed smile, yet her face looks peaceful, calm almost. Another child has a smile revealing all her teeth, a genuine smile. Perhaps excitement at having her picture taken by a stranger with a fancy camera. They are walking dangerously on the narrow strip right on the traffic island. What is on their mind at such a tender age? Are they hungry, are they bemoaning what terrible conditions life has given them? Or are they just living from moment to the next, trying to earn their next meal by being exposed to the dangers of the traffic, the soot, the heat and the absence of a childhood of play and being care-free?
A flashy white car zooms past without stopping. Perhaps the driver and the passengers did not even blink at the children, because there are far too many of them to care. Or perhaps the hearts of those inside car, for a split moment just before their minds become again reabsorbed by the mundaneness of their daily life and routine, were so pained by what they saw, by the sense of hopelessness and powerlessness they felt at being unable to change what they see...

It is a very simple picture, yet underneath is the description that in parts of India, people survive on three times less than the global poverty according to the World Bank.

A picture can paint more than a thousand words. It can capture the life of others that we so easily forget. It can capture the suffering, bliss, pain and joy of others and remind us what simple joy there is to be had, lest we forget, or remind us of what real suffering means, also lest we forget...

The day after

After the long talks over the past two days, my friend and I (together with another friend) went on a long bike ride. Biking is like our therapy. As usual, when we are on our bikes, there is this free, (and as he put it) "unpressured" feeling. That  freedom comes from having the wind, the speed, the open air (and late in the afternoon insects flying) on your face. At times we would race one another, go for speed down a stretch of open road, play a game where he chases me, or I chase him.

But the best is when we are biking next to one another, chit-chatting, giving one another little pokes here and there ( something 'fun' that we have come to do to each other). Then we are going at the same speed, in the same direction, and it is beautiful to turn to him and smile, and see that he is also smiling back at you. That is genuine happiness, unfettered, real and warming, however shortlived it may be.

Arriving home last night, it felt somewhat empty and quiet, and that feeling would only grow as the night wore on. After spending almost every single day of the past week with my friend, last night was one of the few nights I spent by myself. For a moment, I was unsure what I should do... then I decided to study a bit, and meditate before retiring to bed. Though I fell asleep quickly,  I woke up many times during the night, all sweaty and disturbed by images, persons, events that have been revealed to me over the past few days...

There is a heavy, guilty conscience weighing down on my mind... For the first time, my friend described in detail how wonderful it was to have met the boy he met back at the end of November, and how quickly a romance developed. But I came in the way, I broke off something that was budding and never had a chance to bloom. It was cruel, selfish, and it was wrong, but I did that... Now everyone is hurting, everyone is unhappy, and nobody has anything... In the end, I come home, and there is this emptiness that grows and grows inside which I have difficulty getting rid of, and which I can no longer just pick up the phone and ask my friend to talk or spend time with me.

I must be strong again... must learn to be alone, and detach from the (over)dependance and reliance on my friend for happiness and for comfort. I must again build up my life, as I promised myself to do earlier. 

Everybody hurts

Everybody hurts

All the things unsaid, all the feelings unexpressed. All the hurt behind smiles, all the tears locked behind the grins.

Why are we torturing ourselves, and one another, over the past, over what cannot be undone, cannot be unsaid? Feelings that stubbornly will not subside... Sense of guilt and responsibility, attachment and that make it all so  complicated. Or do we make it all complicated? It is perhaps what we do best. 

 There was such beauty in our relationship, between my friend and i, there was such seemingly boundless opportunities to grow and develop together... But there too was something beautiful in a parallel love that was just beginning to develop. One bloomed, but one was still in the bud, waiting, ever waiting and ever curious to blossom, sheltered from the elements that would let it all flower. And everything just came crashing, tumbling down. In the end there is nothing. No one has anything.  Nothing. Nothing.

No one person is to blame, but no one is wholly clean and innocent. I know I have hurt people, I know I have held back and hurt my friend, turned him away when he wanted me most. And perhaps the confusion, the pain is the punishment, and hence the tears, the incessant flow of tears...

All the things unsaid, all the pain hidden and tightly kept. In the end, everybody hurts, inside.

...back in Europe

When I spoke to mum a few days ago, she expressed to me how much she missed home. She was sparing in the details, but I could detect that she was no happy staying with my brother.

Today I called, and it was my brother who picked up the phone. After a bit of small talk, he out of nowhere asked me what was wrong with mum.

I was surprised. How am I supposed to know, especially as I've not seen her or been living with her for the last three weeks or so. My brother said she has been staying in her room, only coming out if necessary, and she stays out of the house, has her meals out, and does not seem to interact much with them.

How disappointed I was to hear that, especially I had hopes that mum could spend some quality time bonding with my brother and my sister-in-law. Yet, somehow relations seem to have soured, and brother does not know why. And I don't know why either, though I can suspect a few reasons why...

Even before going over to Europe, mum had already expressed reservations about staying long with them in their home. Last year, during a visit to my brother's, things completely broke down, because mum felt very unwelcome there. A lot of it comes down to money, and she was made to feel as if her presence was a financial burden on him. I can only suspect that this is perhaps the same issue, the same dead horse that has been revived and is being beaten again this time around.

I told him please just go and see what is wrong, if anything. What is the reason behind her silence? What is the reason for her being out all day and not wanting to be home? Talk to her, I said, open up to her, express your feelings, let her express her feelings and frustrations, if there are indeed any.

"Treasure the moments you have together," I advised him, especially as there are now only two days left till she leaves. "We don't know if she will come visit again," I said. And I think he understood what that meant, or is meant to mean.

I did not manage to speak to mum on this occasion, even though it was only a little past nine in the evening. Brother had no idea what she was doing, only that she was in her room. As soon as I hung up the phone, I wondered to myself how it had come to this. How can mum feel so estranged, so alienated about staying with my brother and my sister-in-law? I know mum can perhaps be a difficult person, and especially after her illness her temper has changed. She has become depressed, perhaps forlorn, and I can imagine perhaps very scared and confused about her condition, about abandonment and dying... Perhaps with brother and his wife, she feels like she has no longer a role to play, for that has been substituted. And perhaps, having spent time with me, and now with brother, she feels or realises that she really does not belong any where, that she cannot go and just live with either of her sons. None of this, if anything of this is really what she is feeling or thinking, is good for her health or state of mind.

These are just what I imagine may be going through her mind... the fears, the disappointments, the realisations of a mother visiting a child who has built up his own home.

I wish I could speak to mum more, in person, and understand what has been troubling her. Of course, there is very little I can do, for I do not fully understand what has made her turn inwards and (as brother put it) hide herself in her room a lot. I just wish that with the two days remaining, she will come out, and interact more with brother and his wife, and that mum can go home with good memories of her time together with them.

Talk

It was never a going to be an easy conversation, we both knew it. We have both been dragging our feet and not wanting to face it. Perhaps we feared the conversation may lead to the end of things... The end of all the comfortable and familiar relationship we have grown into over the last two years. Or perhaps we feared things were going to change fundamental between us, and perhaps neither is not willing to let go yet, just yet.

But talk we did today, after sleeping next to one another. It began over breakfast... He made a comment about how at one point in time I had said that I could imagine myself staying at home while my partner goes out to work to support the household. Yes, I did say that, but I think it was jesteringly, as a joke, for I never have really imagined myself doing nothing and just sitting at home like a house"wife" waiting for the "man" to return from work. Even so, that flippant remark and attempt at a joke triggered alarm bells on my friend's side back at the end of April, and together with compilations we have had since the start of our relationship, things just went downhill till our eventual breakup.

I was surprised to hear and know that what I blurted out had affected his opinion of me, and of our possible future together, so much. But deep down, I knew it was true. To the outside world, the last two, three years I have really slowed down. My life, my hopes and dreams seem to have ground to a halt. I live from day to day, without much purpose it seems, eating, sleeping, defecating, and occasionally reading and blogging, and traveling. But what can I really say I have accomplished? career-wise, I am lost. Academically, I am stuck in a grove trying to dig myself and find my way out. What have I really done that I can be proud of...?

I feel it myself, I feel the energy levels, the enthusiasm for life, for work, for happy, for exploring and discovering things has somehow just escaped me. Where was that hardworking boy I once knew who had such fascination for life and for the pains and struggles and injustices of this world? Where did that all go?

It is all to easy, I know, to point to what has been troubling me and weighed me down. Dad's death, loss of dear friends, the cancer of having to deal with mum's recurring illness and the uncertainties of mum's condition... The looming spectre of loss, and being alone in the world when mum takes her final farewell... It is all a lot to take... But is it all a "good enough excuse" to slow down, to grind to a halt and be an underachiever...?I ask myself, torment myself and kick myself when I look back and see how little I have accomplished. Little did I know it would be a reason why my friend broke off our relationship...

I want to pick myself up again... I want to live, with passion, work with determination and eager. To discover, to achieve, to strive and to live! I want that more than anything now...



My friend then said that after all the complications of the past couple of months, he is lost and confused as to what he wants (as am I). Why is he so attached to the boy he met, why is he not willing to let that go yet? I cannot understand, and perhaps he cannot either. I probably can not give my friend what he received from the other person in the short period of time they were together. And he cannot know now, because I broke apart that chance, I soured that opportunity, and it will take time to uncover, or perhaps bury, that couriosity or even fascination of being and getting to know someone new and exciting.

But at least now I understand more... about his hesitations towards "us", because of our complicated past, about the resentment he felt toward me for suddenly turning around and breaking apart a relationship that was budding back in December with the boy he met and dated... I understood more why we are broken apart ... I have been perhaps too clingy, too needy, and for my friend who had just come out of a long term relationship, that was too much to handle. However much he cares for me (or loves me?), he cannot at this moment enter another relationship and commit.
 
So we are in the situation where we are now... not quite lovers, but not just friends... not just friends with "special benefits", but not quite two people who are in a committed relationship with one another. I failed to declare my feelings for him at the time when he was chasing after me with such passion and vigour, and how insensitive it was to suddenly turn around and want to be with him at a time when he was just getting over me after my rejections over the course of two years. Nobody is at fault, but nobody is completely guiltless either...

We have had many conversations, many teary nights how we ended up where we are... Where are we headed? Neither of us is sure. Are we going to be together, in a loving, strong relationship where there is no doubt, no questions, just commitment and wanting one another? We do not know, I do not know. I can foresee it happening... He said he can foresee it happening too. But now is not the time... Despite the comfort of being in one another's arms, despite the special feeling of feeling the warmth of one another's hand, despite the woozy feeling of smelling each other's body and lying next to one another, despite the deep heart-to-heart conversations and flippant remarks and insider jokes we can play on one another, now is not the time to be together. If that time will come, or when that time will ever come, nobody knows... Nobody knows... Perhaps our fate is only so much, our connection is only so deep, only so lasting, but not ever lasting.

But it is the way it is, things are the way they are, feelings are the way they are. It is as I suspected and guessed, but it was good to have it confirmed after our deep heart-to-heart talk to uncover our feelings for one another. What more can you want? What more can I ask? 

For now, he is the only person in the world who has been able to touch me, move me, and sway me off my feet. We will always be special to one another... always have those beautiful, beautiful memories together that no one can ever take away... Love developed between us, slowly (and perhaps haltingly). That love was jeopardised, that love may have subsided and waned, but the friendship remains...

We are, and always have been, friends first and foremost.

gift

We decided today to go cycling, a long, long bike ride, which we have not done for a long time. So together with my friend, we hopped on our bikes and pedalled hard.

The weather was wonderful, not too hot or humid, and if it weren't for the wind, it would have been perfect for going at high speeds, which we both enjoy so much on our two wheeler. I had just fixed up both bikes using tools and with help from a bike collective at uni, and the bikes rode incredibly smoothly.

One thing I thoroughly love doing with my friend is just biking. Barely two years ago, he had not been on a bike for years, but as soon as I reintroduced to him how convenient and free it feels on a bike, he was hooked, and ever since we've gone on many long rides together. It really is something that brings us together, and that sense of achievement seeing how fast and how far we've pedalled, and giving each other high fives, really is such a simple fun an joy.

We found a nice secluded quay an just lay down next to one another under the afternoon sun. I called my mum, and chatted about how she was doing with my brother in Europe.

She sounded disappointed, though she was sparing on the details. I could guess what went 'wrong', but I told her that on a few more days she will be gone and back in the comfort of her own home.

Sometime ago, my friend was in Korea, and has asked me specifically what to buy for mum. I didn't want him to spend too much money and to go through too much trouble, but he did anyways. Mum told me that she just received the gift package- ginseng tablets. Not just any type. My friend had gone through the trouble of asking around and buying something that is specifically for cancer patients, as mum told me there was a special ingredient in the tablet which is effective in battling the spread of cancer.

When I heard that, I was so touched, so very touched... My friend was next to me, and immediately I leaned over to stroke his arm and whisper " thank you, thank you" in his ears. After I finished talking to mum, I gave him many big hugs, and again and again I thanked him for the wonderful and very meaningful gift...

Later on i would say many mor " thank yous" to my friend... But how could I really make him feel how I feel deep inside? The gift, and the fact that it's something that can help combat mum's illness, means so very much to me, especially as the gift is for the most important person in my life...

I don't know if my friend realised how special that is, and I cannot imagine what trouble he went through to get that special gift into my mum's hands. But really, I was and am still very touched when I just think about it...2

first concert

They say the first time is the most memorable, and it's true. It was, as the evening drew to a close and as my friend joke, "orgasmic" with all those lights, the fans, the music, and the highlight of the singing and dancing live on stage.

I was invited to go to the concert a few weeks ago, and at first i wasn't too enthusiastic about it. There were some complications (or perhaps I was making it feel as such...) about who's going and whatnot. Plus, I feel I've been spending far too much money, especially after seeing my credit atrocious card bills after mum left... And, though I may know the tunes and songs when I hear them, I've never been someone who goes out to buy an album of any singer in particular, so I feel kind of left out when it comes to who sings what and what the chart topping hits are.

But that all didn't matter much in the end. A pop concert is in the End much like an evening at the theatre or musical, except the entire act revolves around a star, and in this case Janet Jackson. She sang various songs from her best selling number ones, some of which were from before I was even born, but some songs of which everytime I hear on the radio can easily make my heart swoon and at times eyes moisten.

During the concert, there were moments we all stood and danced and clapped our hands to the beat. And then there was this slow, romantic interlude in between, with songs that spoke more meaningfully to me than ever before... Broken hearts, deep longings, lost love, and dreams of togetherness with the one again... I don't know what my friend felt, but sitting next to him, and at times gently, subtly stroking his hand and body, it felt bitter and sweet, romantic and, at the same time, there were feelings that were strange or even misplaced.

When Janet did a quick, upbeat rendition of "Together Again" I could not but feel for her, and myself. Images of her brother flashed on the screen behind her, and despite the cheeriness of the music, the gleeful dance movements, it is such a personal song...



"Everywhere I go
Every smile I see
I know you are there
Smiling back at me

Dancing in the moonlight
I know you are free
Cuz I can see your star
Shining down on me"

Personal for different reasons... For her, she dedicated the song originally to a friend she lost to AiDS, but after her brother's sudden death, it must have gotten new meaning.

I wiped away my tears as my memories drifted uncontrollably to dad's smile, smiling down at me from up above... The music, the dancing, the cheering and close of the crowd did not easily distract from the emptiness I temporarily felt inside.

My friend comforted me and I felt better after a late night snack and lighthearted chat.

But it was an evening to remember, for sure.

Ghost Month

It's that time of the year again. When the Gates of Hell open, and when the ghosts and spirits of our ancestors come out to 'play'.

Speaking to mum today, she said dad appeared in her dream last night. Only when she checked the date in the morning did she realise that today was the first day of the "Seventh Month". It had been a long time since she last dreamed of dad. Though details are vague, as she could not remember them, she said she spoke to dad as if she were sitting right next to him. Dad asked about how we were doing, and mum replied that we were doing well. "The children are well," she said-- something she can attest to after visiting me and now staying with my brother.

Is it true, pure superstition or complete nonsense... I do not know. But hearing mum talk of dad reminded me again how long it has been since I lost him. I tried to picture his face, picture his figure and how dad looked like in the dream while he was conversing with mum. Whether he 'appeared' or not does not really matter... It left an impression on mum, perhaps even made me nostalgic and left her full of longing. It left an impression on me, even though I only heard about it.

The dream seems to say that he still cares deeply about our wellbeing, and that is something extremely moving and personal... something, as I am recounting and writing about now, moistens my eyes...

Yes, dad, we are doing fine...  Brother is having a son soon, and he is now settled with his wife... Mum is alright, despite the aches that are returning to bother her, despite the loneliness she may feel... And I am relatively well... I may be confused, I may be emotionally troubled, but I am healthy, and I am trying my best to finish off my studies and begin my life... Yes, dad, we are doing fine.

From my heart, I really hope you are fine too... Please take good care...

Sights and sounds

I walked into my bedroom in the evening, and made my bed. Messy after the morning I had spent with my friend, and unmade as I left the house in a hurry to meet friends and enjoy the beautiful day. In the room lingered a scent, his scent, and upon closer sniffing of the pillow cover and the duvet, was the smell of his hair, his body.

The past few days we have spent almost constantly together. It was the first time we saw more each other and had most time together for the last two months or so, at least since we broke up in May. We laughed, we joked and poked (fun at) one another, we remembered happy times together, we cherished one another's company. We cycled, trailing behind one another at great speeds, trying to play catch with one another till we come to a stop and pant and high-five one another for the great exhilarating exercise and distance we have just done. We slept together, cuddled and kissed, had beautiful, intimate moments. It all feels so good, and so familiar. It feels like there is nothing wrong, that we are just a happy couple enjoying the warmth and comfort we provide one another.

But we both know, deep down, there is something amiss. Perhaps we are both avoiding the conversation, trying not to let the deep, painful and perhaps difficult conversation ruin the beautiful moments we can create and share with one another.

As much I enjoy his company, at the end of the day, I ask, consciously or subconsciously, willingly or not, how long this can go on. Should I even be asking? Should I not just let things be, let nature and fun run its course? Does it matter what we are, what label we apply to ourselves and our relationship? We both know it is special, strong and filled with the ups and downs that two people being together can have. Perhaps that is enough to know, and it is not necessary to question, analyse and explain. It is ok to be this way... to just be... to wink at one another seductively, to be playful, to be naughty (in different senses of the word), to flirt and to stroke the other person's body softly, gently, caringly... it is ok to be this way.

But is it right?