Cleansing

I have moments when I saw myself from afar: eyes tired from lack of sleep, my face heavy with thoughts and worries, my body weak and slouching from fatigue and longing... Yes, I am exhausted, smiling still because I always manage to, but mentally and physically drained and frustrated.

Who could I turn to and talk about this without feeling like I'm burdening the person? My ex, my former confidante and rock who has been around for so long, seems to be caught in his own fatigue and emotional issues that these days feel i have much difficulty in talking to him. Other than the nagging and unanswered questions of whether he still care and whether he really wants to listen to me lament about how I'm feeling after long hard days at work, I know myself to be truly strong, and to truly get to the bottom of my problems, I must turn to myself for help.

I am trying. Trying I really am to take time out to travel. Or at least that is the plan. I've been wanting to go to India for a while now, and I remember so many moments when mum slowly declined, I said to myself, and on occasion to her, I'll go to India one day when all is over.

And now all is over, and I should live up to my promise-- to myself to and to mum.

But plans change, and nothing ever goes according to plan. Despite having booked a ticket almost a month ago, increasingly I've encountered obstacles on my way to leave... Visa problems, time issues, work still to be done, preparations I should do for a trip into an unknown land that does not have a reputation for being safe or hygienic...I've had to cancel my tickets today because first of all, the notices the price I paid is exorbitant compared to how much I only have to pay now, barely two weeks before my intended departure. And it may have been worth it if I were flying on the latest Dreamliner for part of my journey... But even that is not happening because of delays in delivery the new plane...
So after weeks of wrangling, searching and finally sitting down to buy a ticket, I'll need to start all over again...

I am frustrated, feeling pressed for time, feeling pressure from work, and generally feeling like a failure because things are not as simple and as easy as I thought or planned. Why is it that other people can just book a flight and just depart so easily, whereas I'm wondering about the ifs and whens or hows?

Well, all I can say is life is always changing, and I am experiencing it fully, whether I like it or not...

N

Operation Secret Adoption

I went into the animal shelter for my weekly volunteering period. It was quite empty compared to when I first started over a month ago. My heart sank when I could not find "my cat"... The very cat which was till today the object of "Operation Secret Adoption".

I fell in love with this Russian Blue cat, beautiful soft eyes and gray hair. On her chest is a white tuft, and after I sent a picture of the cat to my ex, he came up with a name for her: Tufty (her name at the shelter was Geisha...)

The cat would affectionately butt me with her head whenever I approached. I must admit, she melted my heart and made me feel so loved. And how she purred and purred when i stroked her soft fur, rubbed her chin and cheeks...
So affectionate is she...

For some reason my ex fell in love with her, even though he'd never seen her or played with her. He kept on saying he wants to adopt her, and I secretly planned to make it happen, to give him Tufty as a birthday gift. I asked about it, but problem is she needs to be adopted alone, and I already have a cat, and with my planned trips away I could not possibly adopt a cat and leave two cats at home... They'd have a... Cat fight!

When I opened the door to the room where Tufty stayed in for so many weeks, she was not there. My heart sank. There was an adoption drive this weekend, and she left along with 15 other cats.

In a way I'm happy for the elegant little gray missus, and I hope she has an owner who will give her all the love and affection she deserves till her ripe old age... I am sad and disappointed because I have been planning clandestinely to surprise my ex with the cat, and came up with these little ideas on how to keep it a secret until his birthday. I even got cards with cats on it and also printed out a picture of Tufty to include in a birthday package I'm planning to give/leave him (as I won't be there on the day itself)...I even dreamed that this would be another way to cement our relationship. Yes, I do daydream and imagine beautiful things.

But things are not meant to be. And I'm saddened by it. Though I guess, and I'd like to imagine, the cat is loved now and well taken care of by someone out there..:

I'll miss that little cat we called Tufty who for those few hours managed to touch my heart and touch the heart of my ex.

Dream: mum and dad

The clock went back an hour early this morning, and it's officially winter time. And the sudden drop in temperature really revealed winter's approach.
I took the opportunity to sleep in, sleep properly till I wake up naturally.

I was woken up around 8or so by the need to go to the washroom. I went back to bed, and I dreamed...

Mum and dad appeared before me. They looked lovely, caring and warm. I reached out to touch them, at least I tried... I reached out to feel their warmth and feel love, for its been so long since I felt the warmth of another, felt true love from another...

But they disappeared. I ended up crying...

Nap

I was exhausted and had to lie down on the office floor to take a nap. Last night was rough, as I lay in bed and struggled to fall asleep.

I saw myself in the dream, I felt emotions overwhelm me. I saw tears burst from my tears.
I woke up and felt the corners of my eyes. Though they were dry, I could have cried, really cried from the deep sense of longing and loneliness inside. What does it take to be loved? What does it feel like to be loved and cared about? To be wanted and desired? To have a special someone I could turn to at times of need?

Perhaps I once had it, perhaps I never really treasured it. But now I am truly lost without it.

Dreams: seeing mum again

Woke up several times during the early hours of the morning. A new bed, my friend's bed, for he had offered it to me and taken the couch.

But I saw mum appear before me, the first time in weeks now. Just as I thought the pain and sadness had subsided, just as I thought I was over things and could carefully laugh and drink and have fun, they returned like a surge of the sea in the midst of a violent storm...

Sudden tears

Just had a nice evening with friends, and wanted to head home early. It's nice to go out and meet up with people, to chat about nonsense and to drink and forget. But really, how much can you forget...?

Sitting in the metro, and browsing though pictures. Happy pictures and memories of times with the ex... Then suddenly a picture of mum, so skinny, deep eye sockets, forlorn and ill-looking, nearing death... She looked straight at the camera (an image I captured on Skype...), straight at me. This was taken at the end of May, when I came back here for a month. I missed her dearly then, worried about her day and night.

She stared the camera, deep into my soul. I remember she kept telling me to stay on till my graduation, to stay on and not worry about her. I cried many nights then, hurting because I was not by her side. Seeing that picture again brought tears to my eyes. How she suffered... How much she went through all these years...

And now she's free... No more pain, no more depending on other people when she needs to go to the washroom or get out of bed... No more steady deterioration of the body and decline of the mind... No more inability to let go, no more feelings, no more hurting. Mum is free now...

So by am I crying? Crying because of the image she once was? Crying because she went through so much, when it is all over and done with now? Crying because I had fun tonight and feel somewhat guilty for having a bit of fun and indulging in a few drinks?

Mum is free now.

But I am not...

Mourning walk

Two weeks after I started to seek help, I was suddenly called by the organisation for cancer patients and their families/friends. Join the "mourning walk" in the morning, I was told.

So I did. I wasn't sure what to expect, but the group was lovely, even though it was made up of men and women perhaps twice my age, or more. But this is grief: personal, ageless, and common to us all. Though rituals and ways of remembering our loved ones may differ, the pain, attachment and sense of loss is what makes us feel, and makes us, human.

We walked around Mont Royal, and various members of the group came to me, put their arms around me. A lady, who lost her husband a year ago, looked at me intensely, and spoke to me in the softest and most compassionate tone. "It must be so difficult for you at this age..." Her look melted my heart, melted the smile I put on so bravely everyday because people expect you to smile and to be "normal" again after just a few months. She gave me a motherly look, a look which says: "I know what you're going through... Don't be afraid..."

A man lost his father and mother within two weeks of one another. Two, three years later, he still says: "It takes time... It takes time..."

A newcomer to the group like me, a lady perhaps the same age as my mum, broke down almost as soon as she began to recount the memories of her dear, brave and inspiring mother. A tall man, perhaps nearing his sixties and who had the build of a big, sturdy football player (in fact he revealed he did play football at university...) said he lost his mother a year ago. He gave up a relationship and the better part of the last three decades to move in with his mother, to he with her, to take care of her... to be there with her at that final moment to offer her his arms that night when she left this world. "People don't understand. They don't know why I still cry. They don't know what it's like to lose a parent..."

Sure, everyone will lose their parents one day, if they have not lost them already. And some don't have the "privilege" of ever having parents. But with the privilege of having had them comes the pain of loss, pain of hearing their voice, smelling their scent, and reliving sweet memories long ago even though their bodies have already turned to ash.

Where does the pain come from? For where else are you going to find unconditional love? Who else can scold you and be so angry at you one moment and then just forget it all? "You can have one partner, ten partners", he joked "but you only have one mother..." The mother who nurtured us, the same mother who nursed us when we were ill or emotionally hurting, the mother who changed our diapers and bathed us, who massaged us and tucked us in at night.

Isn't it bizarre how at the end of it all, the mother becomes child, and child assumes the role of a parent? It was a common theme we realised




A leave fell slowly and drifted aimlessly in the slight breeze. Falling leaves return to their roots, and fallen souls return to the Earth to

Laughter

In laughter, you forget... In those moments when you laugh and let the comicality of life (and perhaps a few crude jokes), you let go and allow your mind to be seized by joy, fulfillment and that warm fuzzy feeling you hope will never end.

But it will end, and it does end. Life is not all joy and laughter, and who believes that joy and laughter will last is fooling himself.

And by the same token, life is not all tears or sadness, not all mourning and pain, and who lives that life is depriving himself of the beauties and miracles of this world and all it has to offer.

In those moments when you laugh and smile, you will forget, you will let go. And you will, as I did tonight, learn and realise, bit by bit life gets better as life moves on...

Tears

Hearing news of mum made me cry again...
It's been almost a week since I last did so.
But I could not help it.

Perhaps mum is peering over my shoulders and crying silently too... Crying, because she's seeing me cry...

 Crying because she's watching me sit here in my empty home on my own with tears rolling down my cheeks and typing frantically like a sad, sad madman... Perhaps she is trying to hand me a tissue, trying to hug me, hold me and rest her head against mine, but she cannot.

I suddenly had the urge tonight to call one of mum's best friend, someone who called her every single day for the last four years. Her husband is a spirit medium, and he said mum visited. She looked distraught and upset. "Was it because she  is thinking of you? Was it because she saw you were crying before? I don't know..."

The image of mum seeing me cry is so painful...
 I promised my mum I would be strong, but I am so weak, so tired, so full of pain and longing....

Please give me the strength to be strong again...
Please lift me up, and let me rise above the sadness and tears...

Sleeplessness

The first night is the hardest. A severe testing of the resolve of the heart, a challenge of my ability to let go and not let it affect me in any way.

But it must be done. Must be done or otherwise the drama and constants source of imbalance and hurt, jealousy and being made to feel like I deserve to be treated like a weakling and a fool, will not stop.

Sure, I still care about my ex. I still believe there is a potential between us to be wonderful, to have and to build on that something long and lasting. But not when he cannot let go-- either let go of me for a little while to realise what he really, truly needs in life, or let go of the relationship with his friend that has been a constant source of disagreement and tension between us for almost two years now. I know he is tired-- or at least that is what he told me. Tired to be caught in the middle between two people, tired of having to make time and be there for two different people. And he does not want to hurt either persons who seem to mean a lot to him. But he must decide. He must choose and be honest to himself and to the persons he ( claims he) cares about so deeply.

If my ex cannot let go, then I will go. I made this promise to myself over a year ago, but still I'm hanging around, still I feel like I'm been held back from really letting go by my ex's care and constant need to assure me and satisfy me.

If he really loves me so, if he really means what he says when he tells me/told me repeatedly he wants to be with me and be with me 100%, then a separation will make him realise what he really needs.

The separation will really be the test of our friendship/relationship, will once and for all prove how deeply we need one another, how deeply we are really meant for one another.

Calling brother

I had trouble keeping my eyes dry. Brother noticed I shared some inspirational articles on Facebook about griefing and dealing with loss. He asked what was wrong.

I can not really describe it. Just heaviness, just sadness, just longing for love I'm not really getting (or perhaps not getting from the way I want to...). I know it's all a mental state of mind, and that I am the one in control of my emotions and feelings. But still it's hard to move on when I go home and face the house alone. It's hard to keep the thoughts and creeping images at bay...

"Don't think too much. Do things to distract yourself..." Brother advised me. It was brief how he consoled me. He admitted to me he still feels loss and longing too.

Then he quickly moved onto his family, and for a good ten minutes told me about his plans to buy a bigger house in the future. He's been looking already. Six bedrooms, a large garden and close to my nephew's future school.

There is the difference perhaps. He goes home and has a wife and kid to return to (not to mention the cat...) At a moment as this, perhaps human intimacy and physical contact is what one needs most of all. I need it to affirm that I am not dead, that I still am alive and capable of giving warmth and affection. I need human contact and intimacy to feel safe and temporarily fulfill a deep void inside. This is something perhaps friends cannot understand. The longing for intimacy and love, for a meaningful and lasting relationship is stronger than ever before. This is not to say that I do not appreciate the encouragements and advice of friends who do care, but really having a closeness with one person in particular, with someone I do not feel conflicted in talking to, with someone who will make me feel like I really matter and not just a "case" to deal with, is so important.

Brother told me again to try not think too much, to focus attention and energies else where. I try. I will try harder. I smiled at him, glad to see he's doing alright. Glad to hear that my nephew has grown much bigger and taller, and that he got a new toy-- a multistory carpark. I smiled at seeing my old cat run across the living room where I spent many nights on my own, sometimes even sleeping on the floor because I just felt like it... I was sixteen, seventeen then. I am tenets eight now.

I will be strong and stronger one day. One day I will heal, and i will be beautiful. Beautiful again.

Reaffirmation

Nobody can let your feel worthless except for yourself.
 Nobody can know the true extent of your thoughts and feelings, except for yourself.
 If you are misunderstood, smile and walk away.
If you are criticised, smile and let the words wash over you like rain.
 If you are praised, smile and thank the person for the compliment.

Surround myself with people who can help you, who can make you feel stronger, who can see through the pain and know that with time and patience, I will grow out of withdrawing and grow into the strong person I have been.

Surround myself with people who care and love you, and who will not easily put you down.
Now, more than ever before, I need love. Love, love, love...

And now more than at anytime in my life, I need to be strong, be brave and tell myself again and again, I will be ok.
Now, more than at anytime, I need to prove to my loved ones that I can make it on my own, and that I can get up and stand up strong and tall.

Now, more than at anytime, I need to remind myself of the beauty and goodness inside, I need to forgive myself and not be so harsh to myself. I need to love myself, to care for myself. I need to look at myself and be able to smile, smile, smile again.

Sunset

Autumn nightfall, crickets chirping quietly, the sun setting.
It's so peacefully, so still, so beautiful... For a moment I could almost forget the sadness and pain lingering inside. For a moment, I was free from tears and memories of mum and our ordeals at the hospital.

After a long weekend being surrounded by friends, being around my ex, I am afraid of going home...

I am afraid of the silence, and my own thoughts when I am still. I am afraid of crying...

Waiting

Wait no more.

Life must go on. I must move on.

100 days

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For two weeks, I've felt the approach of this day. Perhaps I put too much thought into it, perhaps, like with many things in life I put too much meaning into "just another day". Brother seemed to have completely forgotten about the day. But it was the hundredth day after mum passed away , and the sadness and sense of longing and pain intensified.

I spent an hour or so last night at the river side, at a place where mum and I sat a while and admired the breath and beautiful of this land. I lay down to watch the clouds, and listened to songs. Inadvertently, tears began to shed, trickling down my cheeks as I sobbed quietly. The waves and music drowned out my crying.

This is a sadness that nobody, nobody can really understand. It is so personal, so raw because I was there, and it was traumatic. The nights and days, the almost endless fighting and struggle, and dying and eventually death... It saps a lot of energy from you, and leaves you so drained. Empty and drained...

100 days already since mum passed. Where is she now? Is she hurting seeing me cry so often and so much? Is she hurting because friends seem so hard to reach, and who I thought was true lasting, friendship seems so impatient and tired of my tears and me recounting my sorrows?

I laid out a full table of dishes for her... Vegetables, fruits, berries, drinks and even a bottle of Evian (my friend bought) to commemorate where we once were together. I cried when I asked her of she had finished. Of course it did not work...  It was fine cooking and preparing, but when it came to making the offering, I could not stop crying... Again, these are moments I realise that things take time, and that there is a shallow wound deep down.
Then I thought of calling my brother and his family. And in the presence of my little nephew, I threw the coins. And voila, it worked, and she had finished...

Mum is around me, mum is with me... And how it must pain her to see me cry so much, and to cry over such a trivial thing as relationship and feeling misunderstood...

Mum, I will be strong. I must be strong, because in this world, only I can make myself happy...

Flowers

I picked white lilies, white roses, pink lilies and some pink carnations. They made beautiful bouquet.

Mum would have liked the flowers, some are her favourite. I imagine she would give me a scolding if I gave her the bouquet, but I also know she would probably be touched and smiling inside.

"Beautiful flowers... Who are they for?" The nice florist asked as she carefully arranged them.

"for my mum..." I said, though with some hesitation at first, for I felt I was lying even though the truth is they really are for mum.

"She's a lucky mother. And you're a good son..."

I smiled, and said nothing. Was I, was I really?

The flowers are more than the scenery and beauty they bring into the room, they are more than just a symbol of remembrance as I commemorate one hundred days since mum's passing tomorrow. The flowers are from me to her, to tell her how I miss her, and how even she is no longer around, she is still my mother...

Reflections

Have I really become a selfish, self absorbed person as my friend accuses me of being?

Have I really let myself be so absorbed by the trauma of the past few months and death of my mum that I care so little about the wellbeing and feelings of others?

It hurts me to be told I've changed and become selfish and seemingly insensitive to the feelings of people around me. It hurts also when people who are your friends start talking amongst themselves about how different I am now compared to before. Are friends not supposed to support up, comport you, give you the space and time to mourn and grief instead of talk behind your back and expect you to quickly move forward? How it hurts that I was told by someone I should go see a professional instead of turning to people around me... I thought or perhaps idealised friends as people you could turn to in the greatest time of need.

I need to reflect on how I seem to have changed over the past few months, need to think about how I (according to at least one person...) can become selfish and self-absorbed and not even see it. Is the person correct in his harsh words and judgments or am I simply so oblivious to oblivious to my own failings and continually fool myself (and others...) into believing I'm an "angel" who could do littleness wrong...?

I closed my eyes and swallowed the misunderstandings and accusations of flaws in my character. How it hurts to be told I seem to have become such a difficult person to be around. How it hurts that at a time I most need and want to reach out for human contact and support, a friend reproaches me and makes me feel like I'm a terrible person with so many flaws and failings.
It hurts especially because after mum passed away, I promised myself, promised my mum, I'd live the life of a virtuous person, I'd continue being the kindness and generosity that my mum (and to an extent dad...) espoused and was.

Wall climbing

The pain in my muscles was excruciating. I felt like giving up, felt like letting go and just letting myself fall with gravity. It would have been an easy way out, just giving up and admit to myself I can't do it.

The pain made me break out in sweat all over. I felt like my arms were going to break, and that the fingers were going to snap. Altitude and gravity makes you feel so small an weak. One slip, and if I weren't safely secured to a rope which my friend held onto tightly,
I could have plummeted to my... downfall.

"I can't do it... I just can't do it..." I heard the weak self nag and echo in my head.

But I saw images of what happened at the hospital. I saw my sick mother lying there... I saw me crying because I was weak and afraid. "I can do it! I CAN do it!!"

And it was as If I found renewed strength from nowhere, as if the tiredness and soreness of my limbs and the scrapes and cuts of my skin and (slight) bleeding meant very little.

Before my eyes were images of moments with mum at the hospital. Those were truly testing times... Those were truly difficult times that were painful, truly painful (though not to forget, beautiful memories resulted from those times as well...)

I pulled myself up, reached further and hung on tighter despite the aches in my fingers and joints. I pushed myself to the limit, the way I was often pushed to the limit mentally over the past few years. And I made it to the top.

I screamed and cried out of excitement and a sense of achievement. I felt good to be alive, to be panting, sweating, aching. I felt alive!

And isn't it always like this? At the end of a long, tiring journey that is testing and trying, isn't it beautiful to let go and look back at where you came from and what difficulties you have overcome?

Absence

What overcame me? Why am I suddenly crying again? Such sadness again, triggered perhaps by unpacking a bag containing clothes and items I took back from home almost a month ago. Yes, been almost a month and the bag was just there on the floor, untouched. It was as if I was/am afraid to touch it, afraid of what emotions and memories (and tears...) may be drawn from opening it all...

I unpacked the bag. In it was mum's blanket, the one she used till the very last moment... In it was a cat cushion I bought her, which I gave her to use to keep the sores away... She also used it till the very end....

Four years ago, I took the blanket dad used to the very end. Now, I have that of mum. Four years later, dad's blanket is just a blanket I use often, one that is stained on one side with his blood, one that smells more of me than anything else... But the blanket will always be one that is special in my heart, that is so soft and gentle to the touch...

Tonight I also tidied my drawers and sorted through my old clothing. Seeing clothes mum bought me, or clothes I bought with mum was hard. Seeing clothes dad once wore, and which I took with me after he left, hurt more than I imagined. And perhaps with the fresh wound, I found myself wave in and weak again...

I picked up the phone and called the monk in Taiwan. It was the first time I called "home" since I left. I almost cried hearing the voices of home (there were other people at the monastery, all of whom I know...)

"I've been so sad and down..." I said. That is the only way I am and have been able to describe it. Sad. Down. Empty. Hurt. Distracted and confused.

The monk told me to watch those feelings, and reminded again that they will go. All the feelings will come and go. That much is certain. He told me to think of it this way: before I was in Canada and away from mum. Now it's more or less the same. She's away now, and you can think of her still, just not reach her. "Think of her when you want, and she's out there somewhere..."

I struggled hard to contain my years. Struggled so hard not to cry. And often the more you try to do that, the more you end up crying after you let go.

I hung up the phone, and steaks of tears flowed down. I could not help from crying. I still cannot help myself from crying...

The longing, the pain, the emptiness is so immense. So very immense...

Tears

I started to cry in the middle of the night after some misunderstanding with a friend which made me feel terribly guilty and terribly lonely. It was perhaps the second most intense crying session I experienced since I returned. There was just this loneliness, this terrible emptiness inside. I kept seeing images of mum and me holding her hand, seeing her lying at the hospital and being so weak and me sitting at her side trying to comfort her...

And I dreamed... of mum, of me howling in great pain. There was such a missing, such an intense longing for her I could not describe. The morning was again one of those I spent drifting in and out of sleep and consciousness, and after really getting up I felt completely drained and exhausted... The intensity of the dream was numbing, and now I feel like I'm in a daze, like I've been through terrible torture and just feel numb now...

Surreal

Am I alive?
What am I doing here?
Lying here, dreaming, drifting away... Am I really living?

So much has happened, but now it's all quiet, all quiet. And who do I have left in life? Who cares, who is there to hold me when I am weak, comfort me when I am sad?

The teddy bear mum once gave me is right next to me... She told me when she gave me the bear: he will keep up company when I am gone.

Now she is gone. Really gone...

And I cannot keep from crying.
I cannot keep the sadness and pain at bay...

I found crumpled yellow piece of paper in my rucksack as I was riding metro. I opened it, and saw mum's name and signature on it. Her signature was faint, but still recognisable. The paper was the receipt from a bank transaction mum and I made, and it was dated 20 March of this year.

Immediately I remembered... The vomiting, mum's weak demeanour, mum's gradual decline and inability to hold a pen, let alone sign her own name. I remember going to the bank with her that day to take care of some affairs. She wanted to repay a debt owed to my uncle, even though he had told her many times not to worry or think too much. But she was afraid that once she enters TW hospital, which at that time was imminent, she may have no chance to repay her debt... The bank statement was dated just says after we were told the cancer spread and was blocking the intestines, therefore preventing her from eating or drinking. Perhaps she knew she would

Sudden sadness

My colleague mentioned he felt his back aching, and also that he had a sharp pain in his liver.

I heard the word liver. Liver. Liver...
My mind dashed back to the hospital, to the room where mum lay for weeks and weeks. My mind began to conjure images of mum's yellow skin, yellow face, yellow from jaundice. I saw bile juices, I saw tubes, I saw my languishing in pain. I saw the past, the horrible past. I know the past is gone, and I am in the beautiful present, I know. But the past was so traumatic, so painful, so difficult to forget...

I miss mum... I miss her terribly. Terribly...
Sitting here in my office, and I am crying...

A small boy, crying and nobody can see my tears. Nobody can understand or really share my pain...

The river

I come here to find solace... I come here to watch the waves and listen to the laughter of the river.

I come here to reminisce, to dream, to cry...

The river flows and changes from moment to moment, the current rises and falls. It is not afraid of obstacles, it is not afraid of the cold or of the rain or the sun. The river just is, just flows as it is meant to, as it has done for eons.

Beautiful, Quietly flowing and never dull

Something inside so strong

I feel it especially at night when I am alone, when the lust and sexual desires and energies have been released... The emptiness, the terrible terrible emptiness and pain of feelings that is cutting my heart and tearing apart my mind.

The pain and emptiness is especially strong at night when I am alone. I feel so alone, like I am unable to turn to anyone. Nobody can be trusted with my feelings, nobody can be burdened with my dark brooding thoughts...

I just wish I had someone to talk to, someone to lie next to and to hold me and reassure me. I just wish I had a lover who cares for me, who can soothe my pain and wipe away my tears and remind me again and again when the emptiness threatens to return: there is something inside so strong...

So strong, if only I can feel it.

Father and son

Just saw father and son walk out of breakfast restaurant on a Saturday morning. The dad joked and tried to cajole the boy back into the car. They were smiling and laughing. A beautiful scene of the love between a father and son

Put down

I've been wanting to go to the shelter for cats with my flatmate, and today I finally had my chance.

There were so many cats, all so beautiful, elegant and innocent looking. My heart melted and went out to them, and I found myself asking why or how people can leave these beautiful creatures just wandering around the streets.

There was one particular cat, a grey one with a signature tuft of white on her (I checked, it's her...) chest. She was particularly friendly and affectionate.

Later at night I told my friend about her and showed him a picture of her, ad he too fell in love with her. He suggested we adopt her, and talked incidentally about cats getting old and the hard choice we may have to face to put a beloved pet who has been in our lives for so long down when it's ill or too old and suffering...

My heart wrenched when I heard those words. My erratic brain made the connection between a pet being put down and a human being being "put down" at that end stage of life. You don't want to prolong the suffering, you don't want the person to suffer unnecessary pain, and in a way you yourself don't want to have unnecessary pain. He described how it's difficult to see a loved one writhing and suffering pain...

I saw mum lie there in the hospital bed, writhing and struggling and fighting for breath... Oh, god, the tears threatened to erupt again... Mum, how you suffered so and I was unable to help.

And the question came back to haunt me, and made the smile I had earlier quickly vanish. Did I "put my mum down"? Did I kill her by pushing her to enter hospice all that time...? Did I kill her?

Did I kill mum...? Did I by increasing the dosage of her morphine, knowing fully well it might hasten her death...? Was it out of compassion and love and concern of her wellbeing and quality of life, or was it selfish and just not wanting me to suffer any more seeing her suffer and in pain...?

Mum, please you forgive me if I put you down before you were ready...
I held your hand and leaned on you, and I imagined it was what you wanted...

But did I put you down?

Perhaps for as long as I live there will be this guilty conscience I will have to live with...

Lonely heart

At night, when all is quiet, when no one else is around, the loneliness beckons...

And it lures me in, almost swallows me whole and crushes my soul. I never really acknowledged what a "needy" person I am in terms of affection and human contact.

But now I realise, when all is quiet, when I am alone at night, and there is no one I can call up, I feel my lonely heart ache and my eyes threatening to cry again..

At least I had you...

I listened to this song many times over the past few years. It is titled "At least I have you", and it is about a lover who cares and loved another so deeply that the person is willing to give up the whole world for the other .

The song has always been able to move me, and at times move me to tears. I heard the song when mum was struggling in hospital, writhing in agony and pain...
I sang along to the song when mum was recovering from chemo...
The song and lyrics echoed in my ears when I was holding mum's hand and encouraging her time and again to live her life as if every day were the last day...

For so long, I was there, as a son, as a child, hoping and praying by her side and from afar that she would get better, that she would be free from pain and suffering...

I heard this song tonight again.
And tears began to fall...

For those brief periods I was with mum,  despite all that was happening, I told myself: at least I have her in my life.

Now, despite all that has happened, despite having lost her, I tell myself:

at least I had her in my life...




"I am scared there is not enough time,
I want to hold you,
Until I can feel your hairline has the the trace of snow white,
Until [your] vision becomes blurred,
Until [you] cannot breathe,
Let our our body and shadows never part...

It has not been easy,
We have no command over our bodies,
I am afraid time goes by too quickly,
Not enough to watch you in detail,
I am afraid time goes too slow,
Day and night afraid to loose you...
I would rather grow old within a night,
And never part..."

Bank statement

I found crumpled yellow piece of paper in my rucksack as I was riding metro. I opened it, and saw mum's name and signature on it. Her signature was faint, but still recognisable. The paper was the receipt from a bank transaction mum and I made, and it was dated 20 March of this year.

Immediately I remembered... The vomiting, mum's weak demeanour, mum's gradual decline and inability to hold a pen, let alone sign her own name. I remember going to the bank with her that day to take care of some affairs. She wanted to repay a debt owed to my uncle, even though he had told her many times not to worry or think too much. But she was afraid that once she enters TW hospital, which at that time was imminent, she may have no chance to repay her debt... The bank statement was dated just says after we were told the cancer spread and was blocking the intestines, therefore preventing her from eating or drinking. Perhaps she knew she would no longer be here. Perhaps she knew that...