Kitty's end

I was anxious the entire morning. You know something dreadful is going to happen, and the countdown to that moment  is unbearable. I felt queasy, and when I went downstairs I couldnt find Kitty at first. Then I saw her huddled together ubder a  chair on top of a sjerp skin rug.

I sleept poorly the night before, persos no more than four hours. I did bring my mobile mattress down to the living room to be with her, but almost as soon as I lay down next to the box she has been sleeping in, she got up and went to sit somewhere else. In the dark, I could see her struggle with her heavy behind and belly, which had become so bloated with fluids. In the dark, I could make out she    was watching me from a distance, watching me sleep perhaps.

Only she and I know we slept on the same floor that final night, for before six I got up and went upstairs to the room and locked myself in there to work for a couple of hours while everyone else and my nephew started to stir from their sleep.

I stroked Kitty throughout the morning, and my nephew hung around  also petting the cat and playing around us. I got her favourite brush and began to brush her. Despoite being so weak abd barely able to stand and or make a sound, as soon as I started brushing her, it  was as if she came alive and forgot all about her physical discomforts and panting. She purred so besutiffuly and loudly, she arched her back and stood up stood, her eyes were glittery with life and emotions. It's as if she hadn't been brushed for some time. My nephew tried to imitate my movements abd brushed her too. She   was in heaven, here still in Earth...

She fell asleep in my lap under the spell of ny soft stroking.

Asleep now

Dearest Kitty,

Sleep, beautiful, sleep....

14.36
18 oct 2013

Execution

Do you know what is going to happen?
If you knew, Kitty, you wouldnt be purring, you wouldn't look at me with those beautiful eyes and wink at me with such affection...

I am so sorry.
Soon you will sleep, sleep and drift away and never ever feel any more pain or suffering...

Soon you will sleep and drift away, but do know and always remember we love you so, and you are always and forever part of us.

Vigil

In less than twelve hours, Kitty sill no longer be with us. She is now inside a box, resting in her feetless pose while her chest heaves in great discomfort.

Earlier my brother and sisterinlaw spent some time with Kitty. They talked about it and agreed that perhaps we should  get my nephew to sleep when tomorrow,'s procedure is being conducted. When he gets up, the kitty who's been there since the day he entered this world would have left the world.

just now, I made my bed on the floor next to her so I can sleep with her this one last night.

One last night I can sleep next to her and know she is there to touch, to stroke, and to love.

Last night

Kitty is sitting by my side as I try to sork. Soft classical music is playing, I'm tired and should probably go sleep. But I cant.

She's next to me, purring, huddled together in a bundle of joy and fur in my favourite "feetless pose".

I gave her her favourite meal of the day__ a pouch of wet food st night which she always expects, and would often just sit in the kitchen waitinf for it. She licked a few times, but that was that. SheIspent most of the night by my side (or j by her side...), looking at me with big watery eyes. Maybe she knows... Maybe she's trying to tell me not to go through it. Maybe she's trying to tell me to stay a bit longer with her. Maybe she's afraid of being alone tonight.

I am going nowhere Kitty. I will be here right by your side till morning comes.

Call to the crematorium

i could barely get the words out of my mouth between the chocking and swallowing the tears. 

My brother asked me to call the clinic and the crematorium to ask for details about what happens when you put down a pet. We know the vet will come at 14.00hrs tomorrow (18 Oct 2013), but we are unsure of what happens next. In essence, I have been asked to take care of the funeral arrangement...

After I spoke to the lady at the clinic, I put down the phone and just let the tears flow. "Heel veel sterkte..." She said at the end. "Much Strength..." She must understand what it means to people who lose their pets. It's an emotional ordeal. Whatever people may say or think, and though pets are not human beings, they become an ingrained part of your life, part of your family. 

I have been watching and spending time with  Kitty since i got back two hours or so ago. She looks so normal, crouching like she does often by the window and eyeing the room with her little head. She looks like she's gained a lot of weight, but when I first touched her, the feel of her spine and bones shocked me tremendously. She's actually gotten thin, and all that excess "volume" is from fluids gathered inside. Her breathing has become so cumbersome and with every breath she's struggling and heaving. The side of her body has been shaven for the echo graph on Tuesday. Ironically she looks like a cancer patient with a shaven side. But her fur is as beautiful as ever, her gaze still as soft and loving, so sweet and so full of affection. 

I touch her, stroke her an quietly deep down I say to her "it will all be alright... Relax... I am here..."

Does she understand? Does she realise I am here for her and will be there all the time by her side along with my brother and sister-in-law who care about and love her so much? 

At ZRH

I got off the plane and headed toward the transfer area. Zurich Airport is clean, efficient and beautiful in a minimalistic way. On the sky bridge was a panorama view of mountains ranges and lush green hills with cattle grazing. "Get natural", that's the motto of Switzerland. It seems to be a word people like to use, a word symbolising purity and being down to Earth and close to nature. Even on the plane, when I said I didn't want any milk or sugar in my tea, the cabin crew smiled and asked to confirm in German "Natural?" 

When I got to the passport check area, a large wall was plastered with an ad for the instance company Zurich. There were a few simple words: "For those who truly love". And so reflective of my sentiments, in a way that made me smile yet also ache a little inside, was a picture of a beautiful cat wearing blue mittens. 

I eyed the passport counters, and of five that were open, one was reserved for European Union / European Economic Area (EU/EEA) citizens. I went to stand in the shorter queue reserved for Union citizens, and within a minute a lady came up to me and asked me in English if I was European. 

"Ja, Europaer..." I curtly answered in German while flashing my little burgundy-coloured travel booklet in front of her. She looked at me a brief moment and then walked away. 

Perhaps she thought I was some lost tourist, some kind of first time traveler on his first trip from Asia. And she was I guess, to be fair (yes, she was fair...), just doing her job of directing people to the correct counter. However, I could not help notice I was the only person of colour in line. No one else was asked. 

This was not the first time something like this happened. Once I got questioned at the gate about how I got my passport. But only in Europe, only in the continent where I lived for almost  two decades of my life am I questioned and eyed with in a way that reminds me again and again I am not from here and that I will never be from here, even if I am a citizen of the Union. Not even in the US, where everyone seems to be suspect, where concerns of security, identity and the threat of terrorism is taken to the extreme have I ever experienced such an implicit form of racial discrimination. 

Welcome back to Europe. 

Welcome back. 

YUL-ZRH-AMS

I booked my flight twelve hours or so ago. At four in the morning. Prices were exorbitant at the last minute, even for economy class. Luckily I stored up on some airline miles and managed to redeem for a return flight for good value in business class with Swiss. The extra comfort will be appreciated since this will be an exhausting and I imagine emotionally laden journey of five days.

Brother and I spoke briefly again yesterday afternoon, and he texted me at 3am (my time) saying he's spoken to the vet and asking me my opinion on the matter of Kitty's arrangements. It was such a bizarre and difficult message to read. We must decide her life. Who are we to decide that...? Because we don't want to see this poor little cat suffer? Or because we can't bear to suffer ourselves seeing her suffer? These are questions I have wrestled with before, especially when mum was dying. It puts you face to face with death and life. You humbles you and make you realise again how terribly fragile all life is. Again, death is bringing is together. Death unites people, make them realise what little time we have in the world and how we often squander it by saying "later, later, later" or refuse to resolve matters and chose to live in regret and fear. 

Despite brother's initial protests earlier in the afternoon yesterday, I think he soon came to understand and realise why this trip is so important for me. I made it clear that she is also my cat. All I had to say was "She spent all those years with me too..." and brother's initials protests subsided. We lost our dad, we lost our mum. He knows how it is to lose someone, even if it is just a cat. He knows best, for as a friend said, our family has experienced it's share of loses all these years.

That's the reason why he's asked my opinion on how to proceed... Whether do let Kitty go at the clinic or at home... And what to do with her remains, to cremate or to bury somewhere.

I cannot imagine how that will be. Not so much the procedure, because whatever procedure you follow, it will be mechanical, painless, most likely by a needle. It's the significance behind it all. It's knowing you are directly responsible for taking a life, even though it is done mercifully and cat-anely. I cannot imagine how I can look at her in the eyes knowing what I am to do to her. She can feel it, can she not? She's a cat, a most sentient and sensitive creature. She knows she is dying... She knows her body is giving up and in great discomfort, does she not? She must be so scared, so very scared... Can my hand offer her comfort in those moments before her consciousness drifts and dissipates? Can my soft voice calling her name remind her that she is surrounded by loved ones and that she has nothing to worry about?

When brother told me about Kitty's condition all I could think of was how before when I was upset or down, she would come see me in my bedroom. She would just air around and look at me cry, as if offering me support... And now, I am heading back to offer her support. It is the least I could do. Imagine how this must all feel for brother, who had her for almost nine years... Imagine how difficult it must be for him, for the cat would sit on his lap every night after work. And all those years he was single, the cat was his companion and a reminder that he is not alone. For my sister-in-law it is not easy either, for its been three years that Kitty has been in her life. And Kitty is a cat everyone adores and remembers after meeting her the first time. As I was packing frantically to leave, I suddenly thought of mum's best friends, for they have met Kitty, and they often ask about how the cat is. For several moments, my mind wondered if I should tell them or not. But why bring sad news...?

On this flight back to Europe, I am reminded of key events.... I remember a month or so after I got her from a friend, she was on heat and one day when we weren't paying attention she ran out. For a month I kept searching for her. For a month, every week I would bike a long, long time to the animal shelter to see if she's there. 

How happy I was that a week or so before my birthday in 2005, I found her at the shelter. She recognised me immediately. She miauwed and smelled my hand. The search, and the deep gnawing sense of loss, the fear of something terrible happening this sweet little creature, was over.

But now it's different. She's been with us over eight years. Though five or so of those years I have been absent (since I moved to Canada...) Kitty still occupies a deep part of my heart. And rushing back to see her, to bid farewell, feels so sadly familiar... To get a call suddenly and then frantically book a ticket. It happened with dad. It happened with Carmen, a dear friend who looked out for me those teenage years my parents were absent. And it happened with mum... Now it is happening with Kitty.

I cannot describe how these feelings are. The urge to see someone (or some-cat), the fear that by the time you get there it might be too late, the thought of someone you love and care so much about languishing and suffering and not being able to do anything about it. 

The tears have stopped. I am just numb now. I feel this is the stoic part me coming into play, the one that faces death and loss head on and tries to normalise, rationalise everything till one day, post the event, I realise what it all meant, what I have really lost and begin to break down and cry.

Kitty, hang on there. I am coming home...

Kleine Kat, hang on there

Can I afford to do this? Jump on a plane to see my "old" cat one last time? It's insane, my mind tells me. Ill be the source of ridicule, of gossip for those who do no understand. But my heart tells me to go, for I will not be able to forgive myself for not seeing her one last time...

She was/is my cat, and we have such a beautiful bond that lasted for almost four years till I left to Canada. She kept me company, her purrs kept me feeling warm and loved and appreciated. Her green eyes could melt away the worries on a frustrating day, her presence could bring my brother and I together and give us a shared moment when our relationship is tense. 

She is Kleine Kat (Little Cat), because she was the littlest cat of her litter. And I love her, even though I have been away from her for so long, even though I now have my own cat. I guess this demonstrates clearly and old love does not die simply because you replace it with another. The emotions are still there, the attachment is still strong and ne'er severed, even with distance and time.

Her heart is beating slower and slower now. Even slower than an aged cat, even though she's only 9 or so. It's dangerously slow as due to a leak in her heart, the blood is not flowing well enough. Fluids have collected in her lungs, in her abdomen and other organs. She is literally drowning from the inside. Brother told me she's breathing laboriously, and moving about is uncomfortable. It wrenches my heart to hear this. Another being so dear, so dear to me about to leave me again...

My brother said not to go, said its insane to travel again just for a cat. Spend so much money for what? For a good bye? For one last touch, one final stroked her fur...? Is it worth? 

Is any life or attachment worth it ever? Is any connection we make with a creature of this universe ever worth anything? Maybe Kitty will be so tired, in so much pain that she will not recognise me any more. But perhaps in her final moments, perhaps before she leaves this world, I can give her a semblance of comfort and love, affection and care, hold her in my arms as I used to do when she was ever so little... Cup her like a baby in my arms as she used to purr and state deep into my eyes...

Euthanasia...

Just spoke to my sister-in-law (brother is at work...). She gave me the latest briefing on the Dutch cat Kitty. 

The bit of the belly around the hind legs is swollen. Not a tumour, as its soft and "liquidy" to the touch. The vet's initial diagnosis is that it's something related to the failure of the heart or her stomach, causing an accumulation of liquids. Nothing certain can be said till an X-ray or further tests. 

The vet did discuss with my brother the option of euthanasia. The condition will likely get worse, will deteriorate and the cat will feel increasing discomfort. She will be unable to eat or move and will become ever so thin. Euthanasia may be the most humane way. 

I cannot keep from crying...

I cannot dissociate this from mum's experience of stomach fluids accumulating and her inability to eat and her constant thinning till the moment she passed. And now my first cat. My first real pet love... 

It's so cruel life is throwing death and loss at me left and right... It's so cruel.

Kleine Kat

Ik denk jou...

I got a missed call earlier today at Niagara Falls. I suspected it was my brother, but i didn't call back. I should have. 

Later during the day, I saw a picture my brother updated. He said he was taking my first cat, Kleine Kat, aka Kitty, to the vet. It's been so long, perhaps over three years since she was taken to the vet. I remember doing that with mum last time back in 2010, and Kitty was so scared of wing out and in her cage she literally was "shit scared"...

Just now, brother sent me a message. It doesn't look good. She may not have long to live. Her stomach is swollen with fluids and has not pooped for the last two weeks or so... The vet will run more tests and X-ray, but it doesn't look good...

My heart wrenched so horribly. I am in the car now rushing back to Montreal after a long weekend, and last week I lost my favourite teddy bear of all. And now... Now this news?

The tears are falling again. 

How kitty must be suffering... How the discomfort of abdominal fluids must be... I saw it with my mum, how she groaned and moaned toward the end...

I wish to go home to Europe. I know it's exorbitant, it's terribly silly and I have so much work left undone and a looming deadline, but I so wish to go home to see my cat, even if its for one last time...

The void

131013.0354

How do I keep these tears from falling?

Flooding back, everything flooding back...

 The way we were, the hurt and betrayal  caused by me, the death of mum and that final goodbye, the agony of unrequited love and emotions and seeing a former lover be with another... Mum and dad's memories, their kindness, their warmth and touch never to relived or refelt mixed with the void of loss and loneliness. I'm crying and crying and nobody can hear me, it seems. Nobody can feel the pain or the hurt inside. 

How have I become like this cynical and passive-aggressive psycho who lashes out and ruins social gatherings? How have I become the misunderstood one who is so strange and suddenly the social pariah, suddenly I have become so strange and unfun that people do not find me pleasant to be around with any more. 

Dwelling. Am I dwelling in the pain and the grief? Am I drowning in my own sorrow? Am I pointing always to the grief and never at this horrid person I seem to have become according to some? Am I the crazy one in a world of sanity?

The void and misunderstanding is so hurtful, so very painful.

Tall tower

Return to "tall tower"...

Last time I was here, I called mum and spoke to her. she was languishing at home. a month or so later, she would die. The ex and I were here together and all seemed so romantic and intimate, we had such fun and romance. 

I broke down seeing the falls. The

memories were too much, the promises of a renewed relationship with the ex was so comforting,  the reality of mum dying weighed heavy like the falling waterfall. I broke down and could not stop crying.

Coming back here, the memories return and splash on me  like the vapours of Niagara Fall, taking me back to last May year, to the family trip in the Summer of 1994, to the carefree days of little me, to the days when I was well and life seemed promising and stable...

Fool

Fool, lying in someone's embrace again. 

It's not the same. I do not feel comfortable anymore. 

He gave you a pillow to sleep on on the sofa. What else is clearer? 

I'm just someone who imagines and clings onto hope still. 

I need to break away, to stop the alluring scent, touch and soft words and comforts of the past prevent me from moving on. Otherwise one day, I will be the only person left all alone at the end of the day. All alone. And the prospect p that is devastating loneliness and remorse. 

It's sickening to discover you've been lied to. Really sickening, my stomach is churning terribly. Trust. Hope. Dreams. Plans. Broken. I put so much faith in the person, took everything that was said as

true and honest, especially words spoken with streaming tears...

Is it all a show? All drama and pain for nothing? 

My fingers are trembling, my head is dizzy. 

Fool, lying in someone's embrace again. 

It's not the same. I do not feel comfortable anymore. 

He gave you a pillow to sleep on on the sofa. What else is clearer? 

I'm just someone who imagines and clings onto hope still. 

I need to break away, to stop the alluring scent, touch and soft words and comforts of the past prevent me from moving on. Otherwise one day, I will be the only person left all alone at the end of the day. All alone. And the prospect p that is devastating loneliness and remorse. 

This could be a whole new beginning, a fresh place, a new stand. It's wonderful, the view is amazing and inspiring, and I doubt will ever grow bland looking at trains and planes and the city below...

I hid in the closet and closed my eyes. Is it too much to imagine being held and kissed...? 

Pants

You don't realise what you had till its gone.

I was cleaning, finally after so many weeks, and as I got my pile of clothes something fell on the floor 

Pair of pants belonging to my beloved teddy bear...

He left the house that day with only his top, not his pants. It's so strange, and so sad to see just the clothing and not the person (or in this case, bear...)

It's really like the person left and all that is left behind are the items clothing and memories and places we have been together, pictures that have been taken. 

And last night I remembered I made an item of clothing for the bear once, a special item of clothing that I would only put on him when a day comes. It's a red hoodie, with on the front a bear paw and "CANADA" (the paw replaces the maple leaf...) . It's a  hoodie that my bear's bestest pal (and I believe soul mate and life lover...) also has. I had these two tailor made, one for my bear, one for my ex's bear. The other bear got his, on the day he officially became Canadian. My bear is still waiting to become Canadian. And most likely he never will get the chance to wear what I made him...

I just hope he is alright, that he is warm and safe and that someone is taking care of him and loving him. Maybe I didn't care about him enough, so he is no longer  with me... Maybe I didn't pet or hug him enough, despite the fact he went with me everywhere and sat by my pillow almost everyday... 

I hope he is loved now, and well. I hope he doesn't have cold paws.

Coping

"Sometimes the feelings inside me get dirty like dirt, and I like to clean things. Pretend the dirt is the feelings. ... That is called coping." Susanne,   OINB

Search continues

I was so exhausted at work today, but there is so much to do, and more to be done. I sat down and got up only hours later in time for lunch with someone who asked me to edit his work for him and provide him with feedback. 

And I noticed I was passionate. It was a topic I knew well. International law. Not that I'm an expert or trained in it. But for two years, and for two theses, I poured over the cases and sources of international  law with vigour. And over lunch, we exchanged views on it.

After the long meeting I headed to the police station. I was hesitant at first, reluctant because at the end of the day , what did I lose? A bear. A teddy bear! I felt embarrassed as I walked in.

The kind police man was on the phone so I waited a bit. Someone saw another person fall and called to report it. I could not hear what was said but I could see on the policeman's expression he wasn't too enthused. 

When It was my turn, I described my "problem". I hesitated greatly whether to speak French, as its become rusty I feel. But out of respect, I did.

And I was surprised how he understood me well and that I understood him. I lost a bear, I said. At a charity event yesterday. He nodded and looked at me sympathetically.  He asked what was significant about the bear, and I said my mum gave him tot me. And that she died. 

He said he understood. And he quickly got on the case. First he called his colleagues at another bureau, then he walked around the bureau and searched through the lost and found. He said it may be likely someone found it and took him home. At the same time he took down my number and contact details.

"I understand," he said. "There's a sentimental value. I fully understand." 

I was so touched I had tears in my eyes. I was so worried to be scoffed at, and I admitted to him I know this is nothin too serious or important. But at least he showed genuine concern and understanding. And sometimes that is all you need to feel comforted and touched.

Reality check

Reality check: nobody can ever understand what or how you really feel.

That is all there is to say.

Crude but true. 

“I think that when you have a connection with someone, it never really goes away. You snap back to being important for each other because you still are.”

A bear...

It's a bear. A freaking bear...

But it's what the bear represents. 

That hug and kiss my mum gave the bear  the day she bought it for me on Christmas Day 2010. Those many moments the bear spent by her bed side, by my bed side, at her death bed. He was there. He lived and went through it all, with mum, with me, with my family. 

A stuffed animal he may be, and you can scoff at me at grown man nearing thirty clinging onto an inaminate creature of comfort and made of cotton and thread. But go through the ordeal of fightin against cancer, experience the pain of slowly  losing someone, then you will understand how every little thing, even inanimate little thing that cannot talk or laugh or cry or hug you back, is a symbol of hope, is a piece of a memory of a loved one you wish to preserve and hold forever and forever.

But there is no forever, is there? There is loss, and we will all lose our most beloved and dear possessions and loved ones. Nothing is ever mine, nothing is ever ours. They just come to this world and spend time with us temporarily, and then they must part with us. Or we must part with them...

Home alone

Home after s frantic search around this morning's running course at the olympic park.

I come into my bedroom and there I notice the emptiness. The loss is compounded. The memories multiply.

The bear who meant everything to me, who was the embodiment of my mother. He was there when she passed. He was held by her. He was there the day mum bought it for me and told me to take care of him because he would keep me company even after mum is no longer around. He was there and keeping me safe from harm in India, on the long bike ride to conquer cancer and in my many adventures since mum left...

But he is no more.
There is only this silence. This deadly and dark silence and emptiness. I have lost it all. I have lost mum,s teddy bear.

It is horrendously devastating to my mind and to my psyche.

I am so sorry mum... I am so sorry.

Lost

Nothing is going right. 

I'm completely devastated.

Took the teddy bear my mum gave me before she passed to attend a cancer walk. 

At the finish line I turned around to take a picture of him. He was gone.

Gone.

I'm completely devastated 

Another loss.

Horrible, horrible loss. I can't bare to take losses. Not after all I've gone through and this being such a special gift from Mum...

I'm so sorry mum... i'm so sorry. 

October 6th

October 6th 2013. 

Yesterday was such a long and exhausting day, had to go to the office to help with an event to welcome new students into the class. It was nice seeing  new faces, hearing stories about where people come from and such. They seem like an enthusiastic bunch, fresh and eager (and somewhat nervous too) to start their new studies.

The event lasted over six hours, and I was so drained afterwards. I went home, and as always after long social gatherings felt so beaten, so down...

reflections and memories flooded back. Five years ago, I too was so fresh and excited about starting a new life and studies here. I remember I was so curious about meeting new people, and looked around for a potential someone...

And I saw him. Someone who I'd get to know, grow with, love and cry over. Who would have known what would develop between us? Who would have known what would become of us? And now, after all those beautiful memories, trips together, promises and hurt, arguments and misunderstandings, where are we now? Sometimes I really think I am the only person who still remembers, who still reminisces and cries and longs. Does he still...? I do not know. And with time that question becomes less and less relevant. With time the memories will fade even more, and those feelings that were once so fresh, so real, so able to touch our hearts fade and eventually die.

That was five years ago. I was fresh-faced, new and excited. And now I am just tired, so darned tired and impatient. So disturbed by the fact that within these five years I've lost both my parents and that I am left on this world more or less on my own to figure out things and to fight loneliness and the haunting feeling of loss.

How difficult it is to live the life of someone who has a hard time remembering, who on special dates remembers. I wish often I could just shut it away, shut away all the memories and forget special days. And there's only one way I know I can forever forget. Only one way.

October 6th. The annual Breast Cancer Run. Last year this time, I was with my ex, and we got up early after a long night of talking in the same bed... We took part in the walk together, had all these special animal friends with us as we walked in solidarity with breast cancer heroes, survivors, friends and family. It was such a beautiful day. Memories of mum were still fresh in my head. Memories of the funeral and her death still so fresh and how fragile I was then. I went to visit the ex so full of hope, so full of longing to be with someone whom I could lean on. But despite the beautiful way, I felt so turned away. Things had changed. We have changed. I have changed. I remember leaving my ex that weekend feeling rejected and cryin g on the plane journey home. I know what I have lost, what Has been destroyed, perhaps by me and my impatience and bitter jealousy and fear of loss. I know after all that began five years ago, there is no way we could ever be the same again. And the pain is in the remembering. The pain is in the reminders of all the things I have still lying around, in the places we have been to together, in the hopes and memories we have together once created. 

Now I'm heading to the cancer walk by myself. Why people I know, the friends I have, have no interest in joining, I cannot understand. Battling loneliness and the anxiety of being alone in a big crowd. I want to do this, even though I had to drag myself out of bed and struggled hard to leave the house. 

Why am I running?

 For hope.

There was a time when I could just grab the phone and call someone, and someone would be there to listen, to care, to show me affection and remind me of a reason to continue.

There was a time when whenever I was crying I could just call out someone's name, could just cry and cry and someone would come through that door...

But that time is now gone. 

Times have moved on. 

People have moved on.

In with the new, out with the old.

I'm old news, my feelings and pain are old news. 

And I am here, lying around in bed, clinging onto my own body and desperately  hoping someone would care, someone would see my tears and understand how and why I still hurt deep inside. 

Missing mum...

The pain is unbearable, it really is...

I just woke up suddenly after a series of dream with mum in them. Mum is still alive in the dreams, and I was on my own, separated from her and crying by myself, crying out to be with her... The wail I made, the loud and hurtful sound I made was heart wrenching.

I woke up sobbing again, sobbing again because for the n-th time this month, this year, I could only dream of someone I cannot touch, cannot feel yet who meant so much, so much to me...

I can only cry. Cry... Cry. Mum is gone. No journey I can take will bring me to her. No amount of tears I cry can bring her back. No amount of longing, no amount of agitation and pain will allow me to see her again... 

My eyes are so drenched and so tired... 

Ca marche 2013

La petite mangue

Amok fish 

The silence instilled so much in the air and in my heart. I looked around the hundreds of people gathered this early morning on a Sunday. We all got out of bed and  turned out to show our support and solidarity in the fight against HIV/AIDS. 

It's the third (or fourth?) walk I've taken part in. The first was weeks after I first arrived in Canada. I saw an ad on the metro, and made a point to join. It was moving, as it is today, five years on. It's become an annual ritual for me to remember those millions who struggle every day to maintain their lives, or even to just get their hands on precious medicine to slow the onslaught of the terrible illness.

Ça Marche was initiated some twenty years ago by this local businessman who was diagnosed with AIDS in 1992. He died a year later. However, his family, and mainly his mother, has been continuing this event for the past 21 years. Today, even at 88 years old, she still stood on stage and spoke with so much determination and hope that the money raised will help towards finding a cure, or at least bettering the lives of so many around the world. 

I looked around, and so many families, children, men, heteros, homos, of all backgrounds and races all gathered here today. In the distance a children's choir sang a moving song in French about hope, giving and caring for others. 

My little teddy bear walked with me, and on his chest a little red ribbon in solidarity. 

In memory of those who have passed away...