How do I keep from crying?

 04082012.2354

These days, I feel this heaviness in my heart, a heaviness that brings me close to tears. Someone I know wrote me an email and reminded me that it is still "VERY early days". This means the real mourning and pain is yet to set in. I realised today that it has only been a month and a week or so since mum passed away.

I watched a moving movie today, about an elderly woman and her final journey facing illness and death. It is moving especially because I saw and experienced that deterioration, that steady decline and move from a 'normal' functioning lady to one bound to a wheelchair and dependent on others. This is life...



Earlier I spoke to the priest who (claims he) can communicate with the deceased. I have not spoken to him since the funeral, which was almost a month ago. I asked him how mum was, and whether she said anything. And I told him about the dreams I had with mum in them.

"Your mum is worried about you..." he said, "She was especially worried that you went biking when the typhoon was approaching." I heard that and almost burst into tears. Whether you believe it or not (and I choose to believe), mum is still around and is still caring about me, looking after me like she always did. She is just not able to tell me so much in person, but she still looks out for me and worries about me.

"Don't be too sad and think of her too much," the priest told me, "The more you think of her, the less willing she will be to let go and leave this world. And she should move on." I know that. I know she should move on, and I also told her to move on. But I cannot control myself or my emotions. I cannot help it that many things I see or remember bring me such painful memories and bring me to the verge of crying... 

How do I keep from crying? Maybe I should just cry...

Dad's passbook

04082012.1322

When I was down in my parents' hometown, my aunt (dad's older sister) handed me a green booklet. It is dad's passbook from the year 1971, when dad was just 24.

He was in university then, studying Economics at what is now part of National Taipei University. There was a large deposit of over five thousand New Taiwan Dollars.

Broken

01082012.2221

"Auntie was broken..." In a four year old's mind, the world is simple and uncomplicated. Broken means ill, and my second cousin was referring to my mum when she went to see my mum at the hospital around a month and a half ago. "Auntie was broken, auntie was broken. And she's dead." It was a surprise to hear that word, first of all because she, a four year old, seems to understand already what dead means.

And it was a surprise also because for a long time seemed to be a taboo word. But that's what mum is. In the mind of a four year old, there are no niceties and pleasantries of euphemisms and trying to find words to make things sound less serious or severe than things really are.

 Dead is dead. "Auntie is dead. Like grandpa!" My second cousin lost her grandpa, my aunt's husband, back in March.

Nanshi

I began to feel pain in the knees about yesterday afternoon, and the left was more severe than the right. It's strange, for normally it's my right knee that aches when I bike. And last night, when I went to bed, I felt pain when I straightened my left leg.

I slept for over seven hours straight and was waken up by a call. It was my uncle, who had so kindly arranged for me to stay at a very luxurious hotel, which gave the the opportunity to have a nice soak and such long sleep (though, the sleep was disturbed by disturbing dreams...)

After biking for around twenty kilometers or so this morning I saw a bike shop and went in to get a knee strap. I only have, and didn't know I would need two for both my legs. The nice guy at the bike shop and I chatted a bit. It's hard to hide, especially with my bike and luggage carriers and flag of the shape of Taiwan, that I'm on a long bike trip. The guy recommended not only I get straps, but also get some glucosamine for my joints.

So i went to the pharmacy, and the kind lady there showed me some products. She suggested I stop biking altogether, to prevent further staining u knee, for the pain is already a warning that I need to take more care... She gave me some painkillers and also additional sachets of glucosamine for free. "I'd give you an applause for your efforts but your knee is injured...!" she joked as she sent me on my way.

After a break at a convenient store just after leaving Miaoli. When I tried to walk and take the bike up a steep hill, my left knee felt so very sore. Unbearably sore... More so when I straighten my leg entirely. I walked on a bit more, and got on the bike to peddle for a bit, but the pain did not go away...

Then I are a sign pointing to a station. Curiously I went to the empty platform and coincidentally saw the bright headlight of a train coming my way. It was a train I needed. So I hopped aboard.

The pain truly is unbearable, and I really need to quit while I'm ahead to avoid a terrible I injury. Quit, at least for now...

Another funeral

The most touching, and also painful, memory, is when my (extended) uncle held mum's hand at the hospital and told her: "We have to be strong together... We are friends in illness..."

When I think of that scene, I can easily cry. Though he was undergoing treatment himself, he insisted on going to see her at the hospital. He was incredibly thin, more so than I remember him. Before he was so athletic, regularly went hiking and mountain climbing. When I saw him a he walked up to Mum's bedside, he was so frail, and a bit slow. Several surgeries in the brain weakened him, eroded him to just bone. And yet, he showed such warmth and such compassion. "Older sister, you are so much better than I am," I remember her telling my mum, "You only have one cancer to deal with. With me it's all over the place..."

My auntie (my distant relative's older sister) told me a story. When mum passed away, nobody dared to tell this uncle, perhaps fearing that it would sadden him greatly. But somehow he felt it, somehow he felt that my mum had passed away. He told his wife the news of Mum's passing, whereas nobody else knew at the time except for mum's immediate family members. Perhaps in suffering, perhaps in having this common illness called cancer, there

Tears

30072012.1734

I arrived at my grandma's place, but she was out at the market. the next door neighbour, a 93 year old lady who had poor eye sight, heard my voice, she immediately recognised me as my Mum's child. "Did your mum come back?" she asked.

"She returned..." I quietly said. "returned" being a Taiwanese euphemism for passing away, returning to the heavens from where we all come from.

"Returned to Holland?"

"No, she returned..."

The old lady, her face full of wrinkles, raised her hands to her eyes and broke into tears when she realised what I meant. "So young... She used to come visit every so often, and was always so kind..." The sadness and pain kept on building up throughout the day. "She was so kind..." Yes, mum truly was, and every reminder of her kindness, every memory of her shared by Mum's family members added to the pain and sadness.

My grandma (mum's (step)mother) returned, and soon enough she was wiping away her tears as we sat down to chat. It was the first time i saw her since mum's passing. I too had difficulty holding tears back. "I didn't go to the funeral, because it's too painful... I was afraid when I start crying I won't stop..." she said, "I hope you can understand..."

I understood. What it must be like for a mother to lose a child, even if it's a stepmother. I looked at the empty chairs in the living room. Mum would sit on the chair opposite me or sometimes beside me whenever we visit grandma together. But today, it was just my grandma and me, and the sound of the ceiling fan cutting through the emptiness of the air.

Throughout the morning and even during lunch as we talked a about mum, my grandma went silent and shed tears several times. I sat next to her during lunch, so I could see clearly how tears streamed out of her eyes. What she must be thinking about... What she must be remembering about mum...

I went to see her by myself in the morning, for I had a mission. Mum had included grandma in her will, and it is Mum's wish to leave some money to her (step)mother as appreciation for bringing mum up. I went to my grandma's with a red envelop full of cash and I explained to her Mum's wish.

She became sad and did not want to take the money. With a shaken voice: "Her thoughts and kindness I have received but I cannot take the money..." We sat down and for a while went back and forth on the issue. I insisted it is Mum's will, but my grandma said she has means and didn't want to take anything. Her regret is that she did not have a last chance to see mum before she passed away, for my grandma was herself injured after a fall in the month of June. "Your mum was such a caring and filial daughter..."

"And like your grandpa, she really loved to travel, really enjoyed fine food. My grandpa was disabled from the waist down about fifteen years before he passed away. So almost as long as I could remember he would sit in this rattan chair and smile everytime mum and I went through the door, and cry everytime we left. Mum brought him his favorite foods everytime she visited. "And he could tell which food stall from another..." grandma said, "He could take one bite and know that where you bought the food. Your mum also had a fine taste for food. Like father, like daughter..." I smiled as I learned a bit more about mum, and also in a way about where I came from.

"I'm worried about you most of all, as was your mum..." grandma said. For a good while, she went on about how she was worried about how I will fare now that I am parentless. "You have no one to turn to now, so you have to be strong and brave..." Her regret is that she did not get to see mum before she went, for she herself was injured after a bad fall back in June. "You have to do good and not disappoint your mother..."
I nodded and said I understood.

I know myself how much mum (and dad) have given me, and how fortunate I am, even though they are no longer around. I know I am blessed, even though I can no longer turn to them for advice or call them up.

At one moment, I snuck away to let the pain and tears drain out of me. I wandered to a small temple close to where my grandma lives. In the basement of the temple my grandpa's (Mum's dad) memorial is sheltered.

I stood before my grandpa's little memorial plaque and held an incense stick and prayed. I shed more tears as I silently prayed: "Grandpa, now you and mum are reunited, I hope you will take good care of her, and show her the way..." in my mind, I saw my grandpa and mum, saw them sitting in heaven and laughing... It was a beautiful image, but also so very sad... So very sad.

Another victim

29072012.1621

He came to see mum at the hospital, I remember, back in April. Mum was on the eleventh floor, and I believe it was just after her digestive bypass surgery.

He is the younger brother of my uncle's wife (mum's first brother), so in a way, he's an uncle too, albeit a distant one. Growing up, when I was much younger, I would spend some time in the south, and this uncle would often pass by after work and bring lots of goodies and dessert. I remember him as a strong and athletic man, a medic in the air force, always so cheerful and energetic.

Cancer changed all that. It has been over a decade since I last spoke to him. I saw him once only in this period of time, last year and from a distance, as he was just about to leave in a car after going to see my grandma (Mum's side). I was shocked to see how thin he'd grown, and how on his scalp there are the markings of a surgical incision.

I had heard that he has cancer and has been battling it for several years, perhaps for longer than my mum. His is a rare form of brain tumour, and he went through several surgeries and treatments, but still the cancer kept coming back and getting stronger.

When he came to see mum, he sat down next to her and held her hand. "We must be strong together..." It was such a touching scene, and I was almost crying when I saw that. He said he's become a sort of lab rat, and the doctors are giving him clinical trial drugs at no charge. In his stage of advanced cancer, you just try to do what you can. Or as they say here: "treat a dead horse as if it were still alive".

Before heading down to the south, I called my aunt (my uncle's wife) to see whether we could get together with all of mum's siblings for a meal. She told me the news then. I was speechless.

But in a way I knew also its for the best, for he no longer has to undergo treatment and pain. The saddest is that he still has two young children...

Mum's youngest sister

"Even though she's gone now, you still have to come back and visit me..." my aunt said. There was sadness in her eyes, in her voice. She said she watched me grow up, took care of me when I was a baby, took me in whenever I visited mum's hometown. And throughout these years, mum's youngest sister stayed with mum on and off for extended periods of time to be there whenever mum was doing chemo. Though there are differences, I am very grateful toward her for her presence and help, even right up to the end.

We sat in my auntie's living room and chatted. She told me the story of how she got her new TV. "It's because of your mum..." Mum came here sometime last year, and stayed a night. When mum saw that the old TV was displaying images double, she urged her sister to get a new TV. So she did. When it was delivered at the end of December, my aunt rushed to the north, to Taipei, to be with mum as she was admitted into the emergency room for spinal surgery. So for a long time, the TV was unopened because I was with your mum at the hospital..."  Every thing holds a memory, everything, if you think a little, can be tied to mum and to a memory of when she was still around... This trip to mum's (and dad's) hometown will be an emotional and difficult one. Today mum's sister, tomorrow mum's (step)mother... I must be strong.

My aunt told me she saw mum in a dream. She grabbed a tissue as she told me about the dream. "Your mum was just in front of me, and I was talking to her. She did not say anything but she was smiling back at me. She looked peaceful and was healthy..." It is similar to a dream I had of mum, just three days or so after she passed away. I too saw her, smiling before me, in a dress I chose for her. 

"Don't be a stranger. Come visit and stay over, because you're always welcome here. You're far too modest and never want to trouble anyone. You're like your mum..." she said.

I smiled, but deep down, I was tearing. I am my mother's child, and now a motherless child.

Invitation letter

(Liberty Times, 29 July 2012)

"You are again thinking of that person who made you unhappy, thinking of those words he said that made you hurt, and also thinking of the things ge did that made you upset.

Thinking, thinking, your mood depresses, anger then gradually, gradually rises.

So then an originally good morning or evening is again ruined by this person. No matter where you go, no matte what you do, this person is closely lint to you, following you like a shadow.

Darling, whenever you are thinking of the person who made you unhappy, it is like sending him an invitation letter, silently allowing him to come accompany you, disturb you, destroy you.

So, let him to, let him be, and do not allow the person you despise be your company...."

Dashed dream

It was supposed to be along anticipated dream come true. I was felt so alive yesterday, and that first hour or so I got on the bike today. But truly, the pain is unbearable and unlike any I've experienced before...

I went to a specialist pharmacist and explained my problem. He told me to stop my biking plans and to really rest, or otherwise the injury might get even more severe than it already is, for the more I bike on the more strained my muscles around the knee will be.

Perhaps it is difficult to imagine how devastating this news is to me. I have been really planning this, been looking forward to it, believing and telling myself (and others...) again and again that I can do this. But my body cannot... Simply cannot... My body is too weak and I am too weak to do something like this...

Maybe as my brother said, I biked too far and for too long on the very first day. And this after not having exercised for a long time... But still, the disappointment is great, for I had this entire journey planned out, and was all prepared and imagining the beautiful things I would experience and see. The pharmacist (and also the bike shop owner) told me I should really rest and not over-do it...

This was a dream, a personal dream, and a promise to my mum. In fact, I have a "bit of her" with me, symbolically in the form of ash from the incense we offered her those two weeks from her passing to her cremation. And I feel I've let her down, and let myself down...

I need to rest, I know that. I need to train better and prepare myself better for such a strenuous trip. And I know I may most likely have to give up this dream, at least for the time being... (or for ever? I'm not sure...)

But it hurts and is so devastating... Because I placed so much of my hopes and dreams on this very journey...

Memories

28072012.1322

It was merely a split second, a moment when I was getting food at the buffet restaurant where I last was about a year and a half ago.

I saw the fruit platters, the wonderful chocolates and cakes.... And I remembered. I took a few pieces of handmade Belgium chocolates, and they were so good, I offered some to mum for her to try...

Similar types of chocolates are on offer inside a refrigerated cabinet... But there's no one I could share that sweet bitter taste with...

Misfortunes

29072012.1542



This is turning to be a terrible trip.
Perhaps I expected far too much, and so can only be disappointed...

First my knee became terribly sore (better now, but still unable to walk, let alone bike, long distances...). Then as I planned to take the bike on the train further southward, to the hometown of my parents, I was refused entry to the train-- for a reason I do not understand, because last time it was fine and no questions were asked! And now the weather is changing, and a terrible typhoon is approaching closer and closer, with torrential rain and strong winds expected...

So I'm limping when I walk, my morale and spirit is wounded, and making my way to the train station to take the train (or bus... It's terribly crowded and the height of the summer holidays). Not what I planned at all... But is anything ever as planned?

I just want to get away, to go somewhere where I can be myself and stop pretending, stop smiling and keeping up appearances. I just want to spend time alone or with someone dear so that can pour my heart out... Because it's so tiring to carry a heavy heart around and so tiring to mourn without really crying...

But life cannot always be what you want it to be. You cannot get what you want, and will just have to make peace with that...

Long awaited journey

27072012.2333

I've been thinking about this day for years, and been planning it for months. The dream to bike around the island (or at the very least as far as my legs and energy levels can take me...) is supposed to be a life changing experience, something I need to rediscover the meaning of life and to spend some time on my own. After Mum's passing, this is perhaps as good a time as ever to embark on this long awaited journey.

So I set a date, today, after much of Mum's after-affairs have been dealt with (now we are just waiting for confirmation from her former employee to pay out some of her retirement fund). I probably should have train Ed a bit, or at least biked around the block, for after all, it has been over a month since I last packed away my bike and placed it under Mum's bed to store.

I got the bike out, dusted off the dust, and assembled it together late last night. And eight hours or so later, I was on the bike, beginning my journey.

There were moments I sang to myself. The excitement of hopping on a bike and the freedom that comes with that is so exhilarating and liberating. As I peddled southward (going around the island anti clockwise...), my thoughts drifted to mum, to various moments in the past few months. I saw mum, watching me from afar, goading me on. Before, when I told her about my dream, she told me: "go for it. Go realise your dream." I'm doing this right now, mum!

Feelings of joy were mixed with feelings of loss and pain... Sometimes so strong I could almost feel my tears mix with the almost incessant downpour (terrible weather, but at least it's not too hot...yet.)

I needed this time alone, time to myself to think over events and experiences, or at least let them wash over me and see what impressions are left behind. I need to know I can be strong and determined, and that I can do something so many people when they hear about it say: "That's crazy!" I need to show and prove to myself I can do it, I can exert myself and tire myself and excel.

Of course, there have been various moment during the day when I felt I couldn't make it. My legs and knees ached badly, probably from the lack of exercise and sudden repetitive motion for hours. My body needs time to adjust, not only to the strenuous exercise, but also the humidity and the roar of cargo traffic on very busy interstate roads and exprssways.

A "brother"

Trying to remember

When I try to remember, my mind is blank. Can I picture her face, can I replay the sound of her voice or laughter? I fear with time I will forget her, because when I try to remember her, my mind is a terrible, terrible blank...

I wrote to a friend that this is more or less how I feel now. There are moments of terrible pain and indescribable feelings of loss. And then there are moments when life just goes on, as if she never existed-- and if she never existed, then she never did leave. Then there are moments when I long to lie next to her and watch her sleep. And there are moments when I long for her motherly advice and warnings. (which I admit at times I readily dismissed because I'd heard these warning over and over again...). But those memories, those moments appear to be so very vague now, even though she has been gone less than a month or so. How much has happened in these few weeks!

Is a part of me trying to block out mum's memories, trying to drown out and suppress the past and mum's existence so that I will not feel, so that I will not hurt?

I want to cry... I want to hurt so that I know I am alive and really living!

At the dentist

25072012.1623

There are going to be moments, and today I had such a moment, when I will forcefully feel the pain of having no parents... And I can only say, it is so very, very painful...

I went to the dentist, one recommended by mum, to see what can be done about my wisdom teeth. There are four which should be removed, for it will only be a matter of time till they start hurting. The big problem is, the bottom two wisdom teeth are growing horizontally, which is rare and will prove to be tricky (dangerous) to remove.

Back in Canada, the dentist told me to have them removed. But the dentist I saw today, who had helped my brother almost a decade ago with his wisdom teeth removal, told me an alternative and better solution. He recommends keeping the wisdom teeth but instead removing the teeth which are directly next to the wisdom teeth on either side of my jaw. After that, I can adjust the wisdom teeth to fill the gap left behind by the removed teeth. The roots of the teeth he recommends removing are already damaged by the horizontally placed wisdom teeth compressing on them, so he says if you remove the wisdom teeth, it will only be a matter of time till you have to remove the damaged teeth. "Why pay more and go through teeth removal twice if you don't need to?" he told me to go home and think about things, and somehow even though I've just met him, I have a lot of confidence in him. Perhaps because he came so highly recommended by my own late mother.

A lady, also a mother who was there with her son, overheard our conversation. Out of good will, she said: "Go home and ask your mama about it. You don't have to remove the wisdom teeth as other dentists tell you to..."

I know she meant well. I said nothing, but her words made me feel sudden pain and loss. I have no one to ask now. No mother who can advise me, no parent with whom I can consult from now on whenever I make a life-changing (or in this case, potentially life threatening...) decision. I really felt like crying, and telling them: "My parents are both gone... Who can I ask now for advice...?"

I thanked the dentist for his expert opinion, and said I'd go home to consider things. I left the dentist and became so sad. The streets of Taipei just felt emptier, much emptier...

Surge of emotions

It just dawned on me again... Who can I turn to now for advice? Who can I just call up and ask for an opinion on important decisions and not feel like I'm imposing my feelings and insecurities on someone? My mum was there, always a phone call away. But she cannot be reached anymore.

Just the thought of that can send me tearing

Brother's check up

My nephew climbed around me, shrieking with innocent joy and laughing so loudly and happily. There is an innocence that is so invaluable, so beautiful, so admirable, and nobody and nothing (except perhaps by growing older...) can take that away from him. I watched him play, and looked at my brother sitting on the same chair that mum used to love sitting on. My brother saw my face become sad, and asked: "What's wrong?"

 Nothing is wrong... Everything is fine, except I envy my brother, for he has a family, a beautiful child. These can mean so much at difficult times, and can add to the joy and bliss in happier times. When he goes to sleep at night, he is surrounded by his wife and child. Of course, married life and family life is not without problems, and I should not idolise his life for I have little to complain about... but really, at night when I am alone in bed, I sometimes find myself reaching out into the darkness, reaching out for human companionship and a warm body to comfort my tired, tired body and wounded mind and soul.

"You really should pay attention to your health. Look at him laugh and play..." I said. My brother came home after an entire day at the hospital for a very thorough body check up. A lump was found in his intestines, too small to be of worry, but still, it is a lump. Otherwise, his weight and layer of fat around his tummy is the greatest cause of concern, and the doctor told him to exercise more and loose some weight. Moments earlier, my brother held his son and they rubbed their cheeks against one another. My brother kept on asking his son: "Did you miss daddy? Did you miss daddy?" The baby giggled so happily and shrieked. It was already half past ten in the evening, but still seeing dad for the first time today made my nephew somehow so high. That was so moving and beautiful to see.

"Two people are dependent on you now, so you really have to be more careful," I said, "So really, take good care of yourself..." I hope what I said didn't sound like nagging, and I do hope my brother heard me and is more alert. Because what he has, as I have told him a couple of times before, is so precious, and he should take better care of himself so he can take better care of his family for a long, long time to come...

Will

Mum wrote a will on my birthday last year.
I first read it the day after she passed away. I was trembling as I read it. And I immediately put it away after I read it. I did not want to read it again...

And now I have the "honour" of translating it for official purposes.

It is so painful to touch and read these pieces of paper which bear mum's very own handwriting.
It is difficult to imagine this person is no longer around, and that these wishes come from beyond the "urn"...

Pain of loss

There are moments when the pain of loss is too unbearable, when even crying is not enough...

There are moments when you realise again the significance of not having any parent to turn to, and are reminded that you are on your own now...

Yes, this is the ultimate, ultimate feeling of pain and loss, the ultimate, ultimate feeling of longing. Nothing, nothing is as painful and, at the same time, as numbing as this.

Dream: father and mother

All I can remember is me crying with such force and vigour. I saw myself sitting in a room by myself. It was some kind of classroom, and people were coming and going. I remember it was some kind of special occassion, like father's day or mother's day, or some kind of family holiday. Everyone had their parents with them. I was all alone by myself. All alone, and  just sitting there.

Seeing all these people with their parents reminded me of how parentless and 'abandoned' I really am. I buried my face in my arms and began to howl and sob. Nobody came to comfort me. I just sat there and cried, and the crying was so real that when I woke up, I instinctively went to wipe my eyes (but there were no tears).

Nightmare

I collapsed on the floor and slept for a good hour or so after getting home from a whole day of errands. Paperwork and dealing with banks and bureaucracy is for some reason so draining...

Repeatedly, I had to write mum's name, and hand over copies of mum's death certificate. Repeatedly, I have to say she "passed on", "left", "moved on", "is no longer around". And it feels heavy every single time I say it. It feels like a reminder, just in case I did not fully realise what happened two weeks ago.

In my dream, mum and dad appeared. Perhaps it is related to the fact that we were trying to get documentation to prove that indeed they are our parents, and that they are both indeed deceased. They looked well, and were smiling. I think the scene was our old home, the place where I lived for two, three years before moving abroad at the age of seven or so. They were wearing clothes I could immediately associate with them.

Seeing them was enough to make me drown in sorrow and suddenly cry. Seeing them both in my dream was a powerful and painful reminder of what I have lost, and will never have again...

That is loss. True loss of the most painful and terrifying kind...

Rush

"What's the rush...?" I asked him, "Why do you want to clear out everything already?" Brother has been telling us to get packing and clear out the drawers and cupboards. He says there's little time left, and that he doesn't want to leave everything till the last minute. But we have around a month a ten days left till either of us are supposed to leave the country. Sure, for about two weeks or so, I plan to take a break and do some traveling (hopefully, make it around the island by bike...).  That still leaves many days for us to stay home and clear out mum's belongings.

It was already difficult to start doing so when I began to empty some drawers this afternoon. And it is part of the reason why I am so resistant, which gets on my brother's nerves, because he's very eager to see everything out of the shelves and packed into boxes ready to be shipped away. All those cups, all of mum's bone china collection and memorabilia from her travels. Brother wants them all divided and wrapped and in boxes.

I tell him not to  rush so much, because frankly, it'll be depressing to look at empty shelves and to live in an empty home. Mum has already left, dad already left... if everything on the shelves are to be cleared away, then what is the point of living at home? Why even stick around here?

I need time to process things. It's just me. I need time to allow the reality of mum's absence to sink in before I can start clearing away her belongings. Besides, local tradition suggests that the deceased will often 'return' to the old residence to take another look or to stay around for a while before really moving onto the world hereafter. "How would mum feel if she were to come back to an empty house?" I asked my brother.

That would look so sad, so depressing... And it is already sad and depressing enough that we are in mourning...

Memories

It is difficult enough to shift through mum's belongings, to see pieces of paper, pictures and memorabilia that sheds life to the person I just lost...

It is even more painful when shifting through the boxes and cupboards I find pieces of paper, pictures and memorabilia belonging to dad.

After I do this, after I clean up this house and clear everything away, there is nothing else left... There will be no one else left...

Longing

There are moments when the depth and degree of emptiness and loneliness is overwhelming. The moments are especially felt when it is quiet at night, and when everyone has gone to sleep. Nothing, not even stuffed animals or memories of the past can fill that emptiness.

There are moments when you realise again just what you lost, and can never have back. And the realisation is so painful, so very very painful. Even more painful because nobody, nobody, can fully know or understand how painful it all is.

媽媽，我想妳...

Disturbed sleep

Three nights in a row my sleep is so disturbed...

I close my eyes and try to rest my tired body and exhausted mind, and yet i wake up after an hour or two disturbed by dreams and thoughts and images... Random images and thoughts that don't make any sense at all, but that keep me from sleeping, properly sleeping.

So tired, so tormented.

I need to get out of here. I need to free my mind and thoughts.

Mum's words

Mum wrote down these words on 12 February 2011. She showed it to be earlier this year, and told me to show it to my brother when she is gone.

I showed it to him today when I came across the booklet it was written in. His eyes became moist.

"Humans must learn to let go.
Let go the unwillingness to let go in the heart.
Let go and be able to cut away and get rid of the love between parents and children.

Because your child does not belong to you. (s)he is a symbol of humankind's continuation of life. However much intimacy, love and respect there may be between family members, everything will ultimate be covered with dust.

Let us then, with tears in our eyes, silently pray and hope:

Child, take my full, full blessing and bravely go be yourself.
There is no need to turn back your head."

Massage

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Mum began going to the massage parlour back in 2009. The list of beauty treatments she underwent, from acupuncture to facial treatments, from scented massage therapy to steam room therapy, goes on for pages. Behind every treatment is her signature. Her own handwriting. I touched the pages and the pen marks.

"Mum was here... She left behind these marks..."

The last time she had a massage was 8 March of this year, a few days after she was discharged from the hospital for the first time after she began to severely vomit. I was with her that last time she was here. I remember that day vividly. She even threw up before entering the massage parlour, after she ate two pieces of sushi she bought at the nearby metro station. That was the beginning of a very excruciating and worrying period of vomiting and mum growing ever thinner. That was before anyone knew what was spreading and growing inside her bowels. That was then, when she was still around.

"How's your mother? Is she resting at home?" the masseuse who has known mum for these couple of years asked. yes, mum is resting alright. Brother and I had to explain what happened to mum.

For the next two hours or so, as the masseuse worked on my body, we talked about how mum was, and about how the end was. At points I felt like crying. Seeing those images of the final few weeks, of the final few days, is painful, even if they were just intangible memories temporarily flashing across my mind.

Haunted

Death, death, signs of death everywhere... Horrible, horrible dream that just woke me up And left me gasping for air, barely screaming...

I kept seeing the urn, mum's urn. It was somewhere in this old, rundown house in some foreign country (Singapore for some bizarre reason...). The priest was performing some kind of ritual, I was present, but so was mum. But whose urn was it if mum was there too?

The urn was half buried in the ground. The priest gestured wildly with his arms and body, he chanted some kind of spell. I was so frightened in the dream, and it was made worse by the fact it was in the middle of the night, and it was pouring with rain.

Another scene: we were inside a house, and I heard mum suddenly scream. I turned to her, and she was holding an underwear. She said the deceased (whoever the person was...) wore the same underwear. I tried to calm mum down, but I broke into tears. A bunch of people rushed over to see what was going on. I was sobbing so heavily, sobbing and crying and in such a terrible state of mind. My mum was on the side, looking shocked and wild eyed and confused. I could not stop crying, and the image of the urn half buried in the ground haunted me so...

Deposit box

Last time I opened the safety deposit box, mum was with me. We had just come from the court with a legalised copies of her will. I remember it was my birthday, over a year ago. Before mum placed her will inside the safe, she showed me some pieces of jewelries, some passed down from my grandparents' parents generation, or even earlier than that. There were some pieces of Canadian gold coins, which mum had intended to leave to me. As we left, she turned to me and said that she had one less thing to worry about. I, on the other hand, thought to myself as we left the bank that the next time I open this box, mum would no longer be around.

Indeed, when brother and I opened the safety deposit box, mum was not with us. Instead, there was a taxman, who came to assess the value of the contents of the box for tax purposes. When he found out that mum was a colleague of sorts (she also worked at the internal revenue service) and that she passed away barely two years after her retirement, he expressed his sincere sympathies. "So young..." he said.

The key to the deposit box clung to a keyring, which bore a little reproduction of "The Angelus". Millet's famous painting of two people deep in prayer felt just right for that moment. I stroked the face of the deposit box, and slowly turned the key. Carefully I got out the contents, and saw the very same jewelry boxes mum had shown me a year or so ago. I stroked the soft fabric of the boxes, and opened one of those. In it were some rings and amulets. In other boxes were coins and a pearl necklace. I held onto these items, and struggled hard to contain my tears. I touched each item briefly and softly. "Mum touched and held these before..." That thought crossed my mind, and a sense of sadness arose from deep within.

One thing dealt with, and many other things to deal with until mum's estate is settled. I came home late afternoon, exhausted and just collapsed into a deep sleep for close to an hour. Besides dealing with the deposit box containing mum's valuables, we also went to the local borough office to officially take mum off of the national health insurance plan. For some reason, the last month that mum was alive, she did not need to pay her premium. The lady who helped us said we can decide what to do with the national health insurance chip card. "Keep it as a momento..." I said to my brother. On it, is a beautiful picture of mum taken a few years ago for her work place. It is the same picture that was used to make her funeral portrait. On the chip card, hundreds of files contain details of mum's treatment, medicine use and an entire history of mum's appointments and health condition. I have handled this card so many times, and taken it at times on her behalf to make appointments and to check her in and out of hospital when it was not convenient for her to do so by herself. So this card contains many memories of mum and I together. I will keep in, keep it safe along with a box of personal items I am collecting and planning to take home with me back to Canada...

Later in the day, brother and I  went to the tax bureau to get an official declaration that no taxes are owed. With this, we can now go to financial institutions where mum held  accounts and close them one by one. Over the coming weeks, there will be a lot of running around, going to places where mum  previously went to to deal with her banking affairs and trade stocks. It will in a way be trips to places I had accompanied her many times since I was young, and I can imagine when I see the buildings, the offices, and even some of the bank employers, to whom we have to stoically explain that mum has passed on, the heart will ache and the mind will have to relive those final moments again...

Now that the funeral arrangements are over, another stage of clearing up mum's affairs is just beginning.