Crying

The tears just fell, and I could not stop them. Could it be all that physical strain and tension after biking over 110km today? Could it be being surrounded by all these people who are making a stand against cancer? Could it be seeing cancer survivors, some very pale looking and with only a few strands of hair on their heads, pedal on so courageously? Or simply, I miss mum... Miss mum and dad, whose picture I am carrying with me on this epic voyage to "conquer cancer" and conquer my own grief and sorrows.

"Every single day

Every word you say

Every game you play

Every night you stay

I'll be watching you

Oh can't you see

You belong to me

How my poor heart aches

With every step you take

Every move you make

Every vow you break

Every smile you fake

Every claim you stake

I'll be watching you

Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace

I dream at night, I can only see your face

Every move you make

Every vow you break

Every smile you fake

Every claim you stake

I'll be watching you"

The live band played that song just now. If you have ever lost someone, you will understand the depth of meaning behind the lyrics and truly appreciate the song. 

I'm sitting here alone surrounded by so many people, crying quietly. The song is yet another reminded of all I have lost over the past year. No doubt, people around me have experienced similar and perhaps more devastating losses. But it's a bitter reality that as I am embarking on one of the greatest physical challenges to date, I am all alone here. How I wish I could share my thoughts... How I wish I could share my feelings of pride! How I wish I could share that joy biking through the beautiful countryside at 30+km/hr and temporarily having not a worry in the world! How I wish someone I know could be here as I am crying now...

I am here, in the middle of a challenge. Can they see me now? Will they be proud of me and my little moment of glory? If they could see me now. 

Are you happy now?

I don't know when I set myself this reminder. But yesterday, suddenly I saw this email in my inbox. A reminder to myself.

Did I set it last year, a week or so after mum passed away after the several years of struggle with her illness? Did I set myself to remind myself that whatever happens, happiness is not what you are experiencing or facing, but to be found within? 

Am I happy now? 

I'm ok. I'm ok. Not happy, and no longer so terribly sad (though there are moments when reminders and memories  of the people I have lost catch up with me...). Just empty inside, empty because there is such a void that I cannot even begin to describe. 

I am ok. Just ok. Just ok. 

eve of the ride...

This is it. The eve before my first really long bike ride for charity. Cancer research of all the causes I  hold dear to my heart.

I'm a bit anxious, as its over 110km for two days straight. The last time I did something similar I injured my knee and could not walk without pain for weeks. I felt like a failure, and that's not a pleasant feeling, especially as I'm already very down these day. 

The weather is another factor that is stressful. It's been cool and breezy since summer began. And f all weekends, this one will be the hottest and most humid to date...

It'll be a challenge. I get emotional just thinking about it. This is a ride for my mum, for my parents who were both take away by cancer. 

I'm supposed to raise $2500, but so far have around $2000. Over half of that is my own donation (sponsoring myself to bike...), and much is from my ex who's worked tirelessly to raise money (in the most unusual and indirect way... Through credit card referrals!) I've gotten support from the usual people I know from work and from my little circle of friends. I know I should be grateful for every little donation, but it baffles me that those who have the most to spare give the most sparingly... Whereas those who struggle financially have been most generous. It's strange how people can splash out on trips and concerts, and yet seem to struggle to donate to a good cause... As I wrote in my last ditch attempt to solicit donations on Facebook, why can we spend trillions on waging war and the entertainment industry, and yet the global amount for cancer research is merely $6billion or so?

--

My ex just sent me a touching video wishing me, wishing me this journey is a first step towards greater happiness in my life. It was very touching. But it was also painful to watch. It seemed like the kind of message you sent someone you once loved but can only care about secretly from a distance. Instinctively I wanted to write back and ask why. Why is he not here? Why and how we have become so distant and I so greatly troubled when one year ago we made sweet love on the floor of mum's apartment and he whispered so many promised in my ears? Are those not just empty empty words now? Meaningless words spoken at a time of high emotions and high hopes but which in the end, one year on,  mean so little now... I must be and sound so ungrateful. 

And I must make do with that. Make do with the fact I can only be loved and cared about from a distance, make do with the fact I must undertake another significant and challenging step alone when in fact I need and so long for someone by my side. 

--

This is going to be a long and difficult journey. One I don't think I've really prepared for mentally or physically. This is not just a ride to raise money for cancer research. It is a journey to shake away the depression and grief that has so plagued me over the past year. 

I am biking for mum... And to dispel the grief and pain of the various kinds of loss that I have experienced over the past year. I may have been disillusioned, depressed and so downtrodden, I may have been so left behind and abandoned, but when I am on a bike, i know I can go places. I know I can be strong and determined. I need this spur of energy, this rush of andrenaline to carry me, to push me, to drag me out of the negativity and pain that has surrounded my thoughts and life for far too long...

Nightmare at 1.45

I saw my brother's face. He came into my bedroom. I was in bed, covered by my duvet. He climbed onto my bed. In one swift action he reached into my duvet and attempted to grab my genitalia... In his eyes there was such a look of lust and ugliness...

I shock awake and found myself so close to tears...

Arrivederci!

Another airport goodbye. Another friend leaving, the third in the span of a month. 

He came in October last year and we shared an office. He was hardly there, as he preferred to work at home. He's such an workaholic, -and I could learn a thing or two from him. It was only in the past two months or so that we became closer, and I've been showing him more of Canada, as he's more or less buried his head in work and did not really had time (or made the time) to enjoy the city (let alone country...). I'm perhaps the one real friend he had here, and he was extremely grateful that I let him stay at my place when I was away two weeks ago. He had a mouse problem in his apartment. Ironically, I have a cat. 

A few unpleasantries and internal politics at the office meant that his contract was not renewed, much to his disappointment. By next month, after another two friends and colleagues leave (or are forced to leave...), I will be more or less alone at the office. 

 I'll miss this friend I've grown to know better  over the past week or so. It's rare to find a friend, and to meet someone who understands what it is like to lose a parent. Others do not know and do not really care to know. My friend told me to visit him in his little village, where he lives with his mum and sister and her family. It is no wonder why he chooses to return home. There is love and care there.

Everyone seems to be leaving. I'm more or less left here, with nobody whom I can really call a friend. Maybe it's time I should leave too. Get away from this place and begin life afresh.

 I may just do  that. 

Airport goodbye

I waved at the plane. Could he see me on the runway? Could he see me now that I put on my right red hoodie and was gesturing at the plane in the distance? I watched the plane taxi and pause before hurtling down the runway and away from sight.

I stood outside and waited for my ex's plane to take off. Watched his baggage being uploaded, watched the skybridge retract, watched the plane  pull back: was that a dash of red in a window behind the propellers of the Q-400? Was that the bear and the red tailor made hoodie? 

We met up, we chatted briefly by the stairs. I asked him about his short trip to Europe, which was filled with a lot of rushing around and drama. He asked me how I am doing. I held back. Held back the words and tears. What could I say? How can I possibly describe how I'm feeling, how I've been feeling in the past week, in the past month, in the past year?a year of disillusionment, as I put it recently. A year of loss and terrible and almost constant struggle with tears and pain, struggle to be "normal" again, to be heard and recognised as someone who needs support and understanding, comforting and company.

 He said he tried to reach me. He did, he really did. He said I never call. Call while he's spending precious moments with his family? Call while he's on holiday? Call and interrupt or interfere with  his life?  He apologised for not being there this past weekend. just bad timing. He apologised for not being there next week when I do my long charity bike ride. I smiled weakly. I appreciated him wanting to be there. His constant attempts to reach me showed that. Him wanting to give me his most special bear proved that. but If the last year of my life is any indication, too many things one must face alone. And I cannot afford to long for his presence or expect him to be there when I am crying or feeling sad, or when the pains of mourning weighs too heavily on me. We are not "that" way anymore.

I gave him a bag of goodies. He didn't seem to notice, maybe he'll forget them. But they're  from my heart to his, and say what I hope to say but feel no longer able. However distant I may appear now, and whatever distance I am deliberately putting between him and me, I care about him, think of him, love him from afar. It's the only way I know how. It's the only way I can be to him without being hurt again and again. 

The plane hurtled down the runway. The plane disappeared from sight No more holding back . No more holding back the tears.

Surprise?

An at the airport, hiding behind a pillar. Supposed to meet my ex who's returning from his short trip to Europe. He has something of mine, that special teddy bear my gave me, which he inadvertently took with him by mistake.

Why am I hiding? Why do I look around and feel so afraid? I'm not supposed to be here. Maybe someone else is here right now. My mind is afraid of the "surpriser being the (unpleasantly) surprised". How ridiculous am I being here? How ridiculous am I still keeping up the charade of greeting the best friend at the airport when I feel I've been rejected to the side in my ex's life? 

One year anniversary (again)

The anniversary of mum's passing today. Nothing like I expected, nothing like I anticipated. Why am I born into a culture where there are two calendars? So I have to hurt twice? It is the way it is.

I woke up an hour before the time, 20.05 Taipei time, to gather my thoughts and feelings. I called brother. On Facebook I see , as I suggested to him last week, they prepared a meal for mum. He didn't say much when I asked him how he felt. I am sure he saw the pictures of mum I shared and the songs that I posted. It was such a brief conversation. 

I felt empty. Empty of feelings, empty of thoughts, empty of anxieties and sadness (which is a good thing I guess...) and also devoid of joy and energy. I lay down to rest and allowed sleep to take over. 

I took the bike for a spin, as planned to. I needed to escape the house, to keep myself busy and free from brooding thoughts that arise when I'm alone. I biked and biked and biked till I was tired. 

Then at one point I turned to look at something. When I turned back, I saw my front wheel veering toward a pole in the middle of the bike path. I braked. Wrong brake. Front brake. My entire body flew over the handle bar and I landed on my left arm. I felt a sore sensation run through my arm as my body was cushioned on it. I felt my knees scrape the floor and then this stinging pain that lasted for hours...

I got on my feet, saw my bloodied and soiled knee caps. they hurt terribly, but my main concern was my arm which I felt like was twisted. I scrambled to my feet, limped slowly to a park bench. In my mind I felt such worry about the ride to conquer cancer next week. I so wanted to do it, to challenge myself, to prove to myself I am still able, still capable, still strong one year on. I grit my teeth and biked back. 

Some anniversary. Maybe I am putting too much meaning into it. It is perhaps just another day. I tried to make it one in which life goes on. I woke up, I ate, I biked, I saw friends who insisted me to going out (if it were not for the fact he's leaving for good in two days, I would have not gone out...). It felt like any other day. Except, exactly a year ago I was still trying to figure out the significance of losing my last remaining parent. 

I am still trying to figure out things, trying to move on, trying to be strong. And I am managing. However lonely I may feel, however alone I may be, I am managing. 

Eve of the commemoration

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I cannot describe the void. The emptiness. The pain and loneliness. I am wandering around the city, wondering where to go. This was once my city, once my home. Now it is like any other city I'm visiting, except everything looks so familiar, everywhere is littered with memories, both sweet and sour. 

I just want to break down and cry. Tomorrow is the big day, the (pre-poned) anniversary. My stomach of aching again. My mind racing. I am feeling so vulnerable again. Who knows the pain? Who knows how it feels to be here all alone in this city? 

Breakdown begins

Tears will be falling.

Falling

Falling 

Uncontrollably, painfully, liberatingly.

Can you feel my pain? 

Can you feel the void inside?

Can you feel the loss of a mother, a lover, a dear friend? 

Can you feel the unbearable trembling? can you bear to see the sobbing? 

Can you imagine why I am feeling this way, why I feel such loneliness and sense of abandonment? 

Tears will be falling. 

This is just the beginning. 

Just another day...

Once again, someone told me tomorrow is just another day like any other day. I cannot describe how upsetting that is. How hurtful.

I am not them. I am me. I do not choose to make a drama out of the anniversary of my mum's passing. How can they tell me not to be sad? How can they tell me it's irrational or strange to commemorate? There are those who still mourn on the anniversary twenty years on. I'm not saying ill be like that, but this is the first year. Do I not have the right to be sad? The right not to go out and party on a Friday night? Do I not have a right to remember, to cry?

Grief is so personal, so very personal. 

I am doing it my way, feeling it my way, and no other way. It is not wrong. It is not irrational. It is not bizarre. 

She was my mother. My dead mother. 

I know what we went through together, what we experienced together, whether at the hospital or on the road traveling.

Nobody can tell me not to make a big deal out of things. No body has a right to. Nobody ever should lest they are unaffected and immune to death and loss.

Taiddy the Bear

Again I found myself awake close to five in the morning. Jetlag has been the worst since I can remember. Someone reminded me it's worse when you are dealing with emotional things. She knows. Last she was faced with jetlag she went to attend a funeral.

I woke up and break out in sweat. A terrible dream. Yesterday, when I went to say goodbye to my ex, I took my favorite bear with me, the one my late mother gave me as a Christmas gift in 2011. I've never let that bear out of my sight ever since. Every night he watches over me, sits next to the heart-shaped pillow I gave mum for her last Mother's Day gift, and watches over me. 

Yesterday, I don't know how my ex inadvertently took it with him, and I didn't say anything. Was I too tired to protest? Did I even notice? Did he actually take my bear? I don't know what happened. 

I only remembered the bear is gone this morning when I woke up from the dream. I panicked when I couldn't find him. The panic made worse by the dream. In it, the bear disappears. I was crying. I searched for him everywhere. I was so stunned and so paralyzed by the loss. He is mum's last special gift to me. If I lost him, it would be losing yet another dear object to me after losing the little Spacemonkey Yuri who served with me for over five years...

Why am I attaching so much meaning to a bear? And not to people? He is perhaps the closest I have to companionship and love, the one thing I can attach to, the one "person" I come home to. And he was a gift from mum. Mum's gift to me. 

Wherever he is now, I just hope he is alright... I hope he is safe and well taken care of.

Airport encounter

I "surprised" my ex at the airport. I guessed he probably knew I would be there. What I would not do to please him, to please this special bear of his, who wanted to go to the place o his birth (or where he was bought) in London. 

But on the way to the airport I was still hesitant. What if I get an unpleasant surprise? What if his boyfriend is there? How would it hurt so much to see or experience an unpleasant surprise of my own... This is the life and thought process of someone who is just on the side, constantly wondering where my place is. No longer can I just surprise my best friend by just showing up at the airport like I used to...

I brought with me a bunch of goodies in addition to his special bear. He was going home, partly to visit his family, partly to attend a wedding. Later I would text him to remind him to enjoy time with his parents, to treasure every moment at home. Because that is a precious gift, one that when lost is lost forever.

We chatted very briefly as his connecting flight was taking off soon. Small talk, about work and whatnot. He asked about my time in Taiwan. I said very little. I was not sure what to say. I can't place into words what happened the past week or so back there. I cannot think. I cannot picture or place chronologically what happened. 

"Difficult?" He asked. My silence gave the reply. I held back tears that threatened to fall. 

I took out my phone and began showing him pictures. Of mum's final testing place, of mum's "urn box" decorated with pictures of her. Of the feast I (with help of some relatives...) prepared. Of the bear mum gave me bearing the large red heart that was my last Mother's Day gift to her, and an envelop containing pictures and a letter addressed to her. 

I saw my ex year. I wanted to reach out and wipe away his tear with my finger, to stroke his cheeks. But that is not my place. I have no place in his life, or in anyone's life to do that. He watched attentively the pictures I showed him, and tried to hide his affected emotions. 

Come time to board, I accompanied him to the security check. He went inside, before doing so we hugged. I placed my cheeks on his neck. Did he feel it? Before I would kiss the nape of his neck. Before, so many times before, we would stand around and be hesitant to part. How many times have we said goodbye at that airport? How many times with so much longing and counting down to the moments we would meet again?

I watched and waved as he passed through security. Watched and waved, and waved, and waved. I could not contain my tears any longer. I dragged myself onto the bus and homeward.

Taken

Of course, all the interesting people and person of interest  are taken.

At LAX

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At LAX

I had planned this long stopover in Los Angeles expecting to have time to get out and explore the city a bit. I booked a cheap motel and wanted to set my things down for a little bit before I went exploring. It was seven in the evening, over five hours after I landed, before I left the motel again... My flight is in three hours.

I simply could not pry myself out of bed. Just could not, despite having checked the bus schedule to go to nearby Santa Monica, the famed sea side town. I finally got up, and felt somewhat bad I wasted so many hours just sleeping... I stood there and wondered to myself what I Gould do. There was little I could do. I looked out at the pool and at the kids and families playing. Here I was in a motel in the middle of  sprawling rundown suburbia next to the airport. How depressing!

I could have been home in my own bed by now instead of spending over 80$ on a motel bed that made me itch! Well, the least I could do is say I have been to Inglewood, CA, where I slept for a few hours and ate bad Chinese food for dinner on a 10.5hr stopover!

Town of Narita

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Town of Narita

With four and something hours to spare, I left the airport and made my way to the town of Narita. A quaint little place with a massive temple and forest in the north that attracts millions of pilgrims every year.

The mascot for the town is a plane-like eel, a combination of the international airport and unagi Narita is famed for. I strolled along the pilgrim's way and came to a restaurant that lured me in. Perhaps it was the smell of soy-sauced eel grilling over charcoal that attracted me. Perhaps it was the half a dozen men who sat on little benches preparing raw eel by the entrance. But how glad I was I stopped for a meal (despite the exorbitant price of over $30 for just a box of rice with two slices I eel and a clear soup...) as what they feed you in Economy class really is like a kid's meal.

After filling up on unagi, I had energy to explore the town's main attraction. It is said eel makes you feel energised and lessons fatigue. Perhaps that were so, but the serenity of the temple grounds made me feel at ease. The beautifully carved wooden structures were surrounded by stone plaques erected between trees and shrubs commemorating some saint or marking well wishes for travelers who have journeyed far for blessings. With a wooden scoop made of bamboo, I washed my hands before entering the temple. The clear and cold mountain springs is supposedly able to cleanse your body.

Similar to Taiwanese culture and beliefs, temples are a place of sanctuary where you can get blessings. According to the year and time you were born, there are, as with all things in life and the world, cycles when your energies and fortunes wane or rise. Special wooden amulets and pieces of paper with prayers can be obtained to ward off bad spirits and omens and attract good fortunes and luck. I bought one for myself that is supposed to help me overcome difficulties. I anything, I sure need this now more than ever.

There was a beautiful Chinese-style pagoda that rose five storeys high. Between red and gilded wooden beams were elaborate carvings of dragon heads that evoked awe. I frowned at the loud laughter and crunching footsteps of some mannerless tourist (most likely from China...) which disturbed the tranquility of this sacred place. She was walking on a field of stones that were strewn between paths, something I doubt one is supposed to do. Smoke ascended from a cauldron, and I followed the actions of several visitors who stood by the cauldron and waved wafts of incense to purify and bless their souls and bodies.

There was a sudden drum beat that echoed in the otherwise very serene surroundings emanating from the main temple complex. I hurried into the structure  and was immediately struck by the simplicity of Shintoism's architecture to evoke  tranquility and inspiration. In a darkened hall, a priest led a solemn drumming ceremony to commemorate the victims and tragedy of the earthquake in the Japan's North-East over a year ago. I tread carefully and came to a dark pit with metal girdles across. Like someone next to me, I made a prayer and threw in a coin. It was a while before I could hear the metallic clink of the coin as it hit the bottom.

I wandered some more and explored the forest a little bit. I was pressured for time, and the rumble of the sky and dampness in the air forecasted a heavy downpour. I came to a souvenir store, and in pigeon Japanese (ie added "-o" or "-u" behind every English word) I asked for some "post-card-". The lady tried to sell me half a dozen, and when I said I only needed one, she referred me to an elderly lady next door. She was so kind and attentive, and every though I bought only one postcard, she meticulously placed it in a little paper bag and even threw in a origami figure of a Japanese kimono made using folded paper and toothpicks. I repeatedly  expressed my gratitude. I felt somewhat compelled by the act of kindness and  was drawn by the plush blue plane-like eel that is the town's mascot that I made another purchase to support this aged lady still making a living.

The wind picked up, and rains drops began to fall, causing the souvenir stands to shake and their owners come out to tend to their goods. As I prepared to leave, the old lady came out to bow gracefully and said a string of words in Japanese which I can only imagine are blessings and well wishes. I too bowed and quietly ended my brief visit to this quaint little town with a massive and extremely bush international airport to its name.

Passport check

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Passport check

"Where were you born?" The border agent asked as he flipped through my passport. maybe it was a question to test my identity, for he would know the answer if he looked carefully.

"Taiwan," I said.

"Why Canada?" He asked. On my customs declaration form I put I was transiting, and Montreal as my final destination. 

"I live there," I said, which he said "You live there, eh?" Was he trying to pull a joke? 

He flipped through the pages a bit more. Was he intrigued by the number of times I've been to the US over the past year? Or the randomness of all these stamps for entry into  (and departure from) Taiwan? I was too tired to say more than necessary. From my experience, I am not a suspect traveler. 

"When was the last time you were in the Netherlands?"

"Umm, December? Last year for Christmas." 

He placed a few stamps here and there, closed my passport and gave it back to me. "Have a good one..."

"Thank you..." 

Taiwan, Canada, the Netherlands. Three random places on three continents spread across the world. Place of my birth, place of my adolescent years, and place of my current domicile. Does it get more international than this? 

Leaving TPE

Leaving TPE

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I felt numb. Waking up after less than four hours of sleep, packing (or squeezing) the last few things into my suitcases, taking the taxi to the airport. It felt like it was a dream, and I was an observer watching it all happen. 

The airport was packed, brimming with groups of tourists with their large boxes of goodies and souvenirs. A few calls to relatives and friends to bid them farewell. I had a last meal of sweet potato fries with my cousin who accompanied me to see me off. Big hug, quick visit to another cousin who works at the airport, another big hug before quickening my pace to the boarding gate. The waiting area was empty, as I was the (second?) last person to board. Minutes after I sat down, the cabin door closed. The plane pulled back. I admired the Eva Air planes with their new Star Alliance logos stickered close to the noses. Watching planes, mentally noting the shape of the wingtips and labeling the model  and make of the aircrafts, temporarily quelled my emotions. The start of a 36hour journey (including layover time...).

Another airport, another boarding gate, another airplane waiting to soar into the heavens, waiting to disappear. 

Another packed suitcase, another boarding pass to add to the scrapbook I keep, another journey to another far away city waiting to consume me and make me one of the anonymous many. 

Another forced smile to greet another unfamiliar face, another tear shed.

A wave of sadness swelled up as I watched two ground crew stand next to one another and bow and wave. Goodbye. Farewell. Bon voyage. Thank you for visiting. The land of my birth, the city I know so well, the places that once made me feel so much at home, are now places I feel I am only visiting. 

This trip is coming to an end. An emotional trip it has been, but I cannot explain why. I want to cry, really break out and cry instead of just shed tears. But the time has not come yet. 

Leaving TPE

Leaving TPE

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I felt numb. Waking up after less than four hours of sleep, packing (or squeezing) the last few things into my suitcases, taking the taxi to the airport. It felt like it was a dream, and I was an observer watching it all happen. 

The airport was packed, brimming with groups of tourists with their large boxes of goodies and souvenirs. A few calls to relatives and friends to bid them farewell. I had a last meal of sweet potato fries with my cousin who accompanied me to see me off. Big hug, quick visit to another cousin who works at the airport, another big hug before quickening my pace to the boarding gate. The waiting area was empty, as I was the (second?) last person to board. Minutes after I sat down, the cabin door closed. The plane pulled back. I admired the Eva Air planes with their new Star Alliance logos stickered close to the noses. Watching planes, mentally noting the shape of the wingtips and labeling the model  and make of the aircrafts, temporarily quelled my emotions. The start of a 36hour journey (including layover time...).

Another airport, another boarding gate, another airplane waiting to soar into the heavens, waiting to disappear. 

Another packed suitcase, another boarding pass to add to the scrapbook I keep, another journey to another far away city waiting to consume me and make me one of the anonymous many. 

Another forced smile to greet another unfamiliar face, another tear shed.

A wave of sadness swelled up as I watched two ground crew stand next to one another and bow and wave. Goodbye. Farewell. Bon voyage. Thank you for visiting. The land of my birth, the city I know so well, the places that once made me feel so much at home, are now places I feel I am only visiting. 

This trip is coming to an end. An emotional trip it has been, but I cannot explain why. I want to cry, really break out and cry instead of just shed tears. But the time has not come yet. 

Eve of departure

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The city looks so quiet and serene from the cool of the metro carriage. Bright lights, glittering kanbans, streams of red tail lights, anonymous crowds walking quickly on the streets below. Taipei, my birth town, my hometown, a city that used to touch my heart so much, now feels like any other city I visit and leave as a traveler.

The eve of my departure. How do I feel, I was asked. I do not feel. I feel perhaps too little or too much that I cannot put into words how I really feel. Emptiness is the closest feeling. A gaping hole. Lacking meaning, lacking purpose. A frustrating lack of ability to describe my emotions and feelings. I had a way with words before. That gift (if it were really so...) is now lost, just like the so many dear things and people I have lost. What do I have? I have these words I cannot express. I have these feelings I cannot eject. I have this gut wrenching loneliness and void I cannot part with. 

This trip was supposed to bring me closure. Maybe I expected too much, maybe the resolution and healing is yet to really follow. How can you really piece together all that has happened and try to put into words how significant this trip has been when you are moving from bed to bed every other day? How can you really let the dust settle and coherent thoughts come together when every other moment, every other person you encounter, confronts you with memories of the loved ones who have gone? 

Mum and dad's shadows and memories are all over the place. This city is filled with reminders of those sweet days of my childhood, those talks and walks I shared with my late parents, those caring moments at the hospital and tender and intimate memories I shared with someone who has become so terribly estranged. 

I am tired, really really tired... I wish I could just lie down and close my eyes and never wake up. 

Sponsorship

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Sponsorship

I walked in the searing heat ad my shirt was drenched from sweat. Tired but I had a mission I needed and wanted to fulfil.

When mum was still alive, she sponsored two children through World Vision Taiwan, one in the south of the country, and another in Mozambique. She had paid installments till January 2013, and after she passed, I had the idea of continuing to sponsor the two "adopted" children to continue of legacy of charitable giving. 

Last August, before I left Taiwan, I arranged to have the financial sponsorship continued. And at the end of last year, I made a large lump sum donation to the girl in Mozambique to help them improve their family home. That was the last contact I had with the organisation.

 But no monthly deductions have since been made, so my visit was to figure out what happened. 

I arrived at the head office, and was greeted by a kind receptionist. I should have called in advance, for I would have discovered the trip was more or less in vain as the agent who has been in touch with me (with all other customer service agents...)  happened to be away on a training. The reception lady did take a look into the sponsorship files, and revealed to my surprise the sponsorship has ended without my knowledge...

The girl in Mozambique was apparently removed from the programme as her family was deemed no longer suitable after she turned 14 years old. Perhaps the large sum of money I donated back in December, in accordance with mum's wish, had something to do with it. The other child, a boy who has the same surname as me, was assigned to another sponsor after mum's sponsorship money terminated. 

There were several awkward moments, as I stood there stunned that I could no longer  continue mum's legacy. The lady was very apologetic. I wasn't sure what to do, and it did cross my mind to start sponsoring children of my own. But I stopped short and said I needed to think about it. It was all so sudden, unexpected and left me lost. You expect something to go a certain way, but nothing really ever does.

Disparaged, I left the office and stepped into the searing heat again...