Note: I’m travelling in November, so there will be no new posts. Instead I will select and re-blog some older posts here.
There is a moment that I wish it can stop forever – the moment my loved ones pass away. I don’t want to face it. I don’t want to believe it. I can’t do anything but find myself so helpless and I was unable to do anything.
Mom, it’s been one year since you left us. Your presence is now felt much stronger by your absence. When I think back on your fight with your sickness, it always inspires me. You will never know, during those desperate times: I prayed for your health every night even though I don’t know how to pray, I tried to become a vegetarian and hoped you would be gained more time by saving lives, I did the research and wished there would be a breakthrough to your sickness one day. But in the end, miracle did not happen.
I once dreamed about you. In the dream, you fully recovered. We walked down the street and shopped for groceries just like the old days. I felt so relieved and happy … until I was aware that this was only a dream. I sometimes wonder if I didn’t listen to the doctor in keeping you in the nursing home and instead transferred you to the hospital earlier, I might be able to say the final farewell to you. But that might be your last gift to me – a painless goodbye.
I tried hard to adapt to a life without you in the past year – I changed job, changed car, I travelled, and made myself busy. But there is always a sense of emptiness when I’m alone. I promised you that I will clean up all the messes you left behind … and I did – those are the last things I can do for you.
There is a moment that I wish it can stop forever – but life doesn’t work that way, it moves on.