Seeing You Off

The final passage, remembering the woman whom you’d come to know, as your, mother-in-law, from your father-in-law’s second marriage, translated…

Sitting silent, in the back of the church, on the wooden bench, stared at the white coffin, paved with flowers in the shrine, hearing the pastor slowly, told of your, eighty-two years of colorful life; as the pastor described you as being straightforward, generous, it’d, made me cry, and I’d, lifted up my head and smiled, started recalling the thirteen years of friendships we’d, come to share in life.

It was a snowy day in April in Norway, my husband who’d, planned to be single for the res of his life, drove me in his car, and, came to your door, my father-in-law, and his second wife, you, immediately led us in, and, in a panic, started, preparing the snacks, the coffees to serve to me, an unwelcomed guest.  Back then I wasn’t, fluent in Norwegian, I’d spoken in fluent German with my father-in-law, and, it’d, made you, who lived in the U.S. for over a decade object, that you had difficulties understanding us, and, we’d, realized that we had, excluded you, and immediately, we’d, both started switching to talking in English then.

On Christmas Eve that first year of our marriage, you’d, burst the hopes of your three daughters, sons-in-law, and nine grandchildren’s dreams of family union, you’d come to our home, and, baked for us, the traditional Norwegian pork ribs, meat balls, and sausages, and prepared seven types of pastries.  And, as lucky as I in the first time, I’d, scooped up, the only almond, hidden inside the rice pudding, and received, that special award for piggy almond candy.  Underneath the Christmas tree with the Norwegian flag, were the gifts, stacked up, you, my father-in-law, my husband and I, the four of us, sat around the tree, and started, tearing open the presents, the excitement, the joys, it’d, filled up the house.

The summer that my mother, second aunt, and nephew visited Norway, you’d not just, invited them, you’d also, found your youngest who’s my age, along with your young granddaughter, who’s around the same age as my nephew as company, you’d, set up a wooden board in your yard, with the balloons, and started, shooting the darts.  And even though, it’d rained that day, we’d, still, had a ton of fun; to this very day, my mother still talked of the cherries, the raspberries, and currants you grew in your own yard.

On your seventy-fifth, because your body was, ailing, you’d, delayed your birthday celebration in May, but you’d, not told us flat out, only asked, if we’re available to show up in June.  And, as my husband and I arrived, I’d found, that it was, a family birthday celebration your daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had set up for you; we’d, not brought anything, and we were, embarrassed, but you’d laughed and told, that it was because you didn’t want any presents, that was why, you’d, not told us it was to celebrate your birthday.

illustration from UDN.com

2017 was, especially cruel to you.  First, your best friend who lived in the U.S. died in the spring at the age of over ninety, several months later, it was, my father-in-law, the second love of your life, passed away, in the autumn.  On the evening my father-in-law passed, you, me, and my husband, the three of us, stayed close by his side, until he’d, swallowed his, last breath.  You’d, dragged your, deteriorated health, your, slow steps home; the following day, we took you to the funeral home, to set up my father-in-law’s final affairs, you’d spoken of how you’d, not slept through the night, that you’d, paced around in the living room; even as your kids and grandkids were there, to accompany you, it still, didn’t, take away from your losing your husband.

Within two years after my father-in-law’s funeral, I sat here, in this, same church, heard the same pastor, hosting your funeral.  This pastor was the one who’d, conducted the wedding ceremony of you and my father-in-law thirty years back, he’d retired since, but, two years ago, he’d, made an exception for my father-in-law, spoken on his funeral, and this time, for you too.  You marrying my father-in-law, had once cast a huge shadow for my husband’s not introducing me to his own mother, but, for the eighteen years, the three of you had, died, and all the displeases of the past are now, gone, with the wind.  I’d heard of the news of your death as I’d returned from Egypt, I’d, come, to see you off, I’m so grateful for your kindness toward me, even more grateful, that you were, a “stand-in mother-in-law” to me, giving my families and I, such, wonderful, memories.

And so, this, is on how strong the connections of strangers who became, families are, and this still just showed, how if you’re kind to your daughters or sons-in-law, they will, reciprocate, and love you like you were, their own, parents too.  This is quite rare, to see a stepmother-in-law and a daughter-in-law get along so very well together.

Passing Through, on a Bamboo Raft, a Poem

On burying one’s own, offspring, translated…

A Bamboo Raft, Like a Red Lotus Passed Through

Vanished, into the Fog

“Affinities of Children, Thin Like the Foams on the Waterfront”

So True These Words

Watching the Sunset Light Withering in the West

Time Has No Place Here

Memories Can’t Hide

The Awareness, Electric Shocked

Who isn’t, Like that Small Raft

Drifting in-Between Life & Death

Listening to the Heaviness of the Repentance of Love & Lust

With the Broken Bridges, Severed Off Streams, the Dying Smokes

And so, this, is finally, coming to one’s senses about the finality of life, because you’d lost the ones you loved when they were too young, and you are, still living, you’d, needed to, cope with losing the ones you cared for, loved, your, own young…

Because of Your Not Ready to Let Me Go, I Had to, Suffer, Longer than I Had to…

tattooed, around the area where the tube is, supposed to, go in…photo from online

I’d been found, in the TERMINAL stage of cancer, it’d, progressed too advance, metastasized, took over, my other organs as well, but because of your not ready to let me go, I had to, suffer, longer than I had to.

I get, that you love me, and couldn’t see me die, but heck, EVERYBODY dies, I’d, already, come to understand that, through the course, of this, illness, and, as my cancer had, progressed, little, by little each and every day, I’d, become, less than all I once was, I’d lost, ALL my dignities, I’d started, wearing DIAPERS for crying on loud, and needed people, to carry me up and down, and I can’t even, sit STRAIGHT, in my god damn, WHEELCHAIR either!

Despite everything that’s been done, my cancer is still “on”, in fact, it’s, MORE than on, and, this last round of chemo, it’d, left me, so FUCKING weak, I can’t even see anything in front of my eyes now.

the forms…photo from online

Is this the way, I want to live? HELL no! And yet, you’re, still, keeping me here, but W-H-Y, huh? Why do you, HATE me so, that you feel compelled, to DRAG me through this SHIT in these dying days of mine? And, why can’t I, just, have some peace, and just, live from breath to breath?

I’m NOT afraid to D-I-E, by any measures, in fact, I wish I were DEAD now, and yet, look at, these tubes that are, attached to my body, there’s one, to drain out the excess fluids, one that’s, in my arms, to draw the blood out for testing’s sake, and oh, do you not see, this tube that’s, stuck down MY fucking throat here? And, don’t EVEN, get ME started, on what feeding time is like every single time here???

Now, ask yourselves this: would THIS be the way, you all want to, live out the rest of your lives? And, if you could have a choice, wouldn’t you, just, want someone, to PULL the P-L-U-G-S?

So, why are you, still, keeping your own loved ones, connected to that monitor, beeping, beeping, beeping, beeping, beeping, and beeping away, huh?

This is, completely, I-N-H-U-M-A-N-E, and NOBODY deserves to, LIVE like this, especially, NOT during those, final days, years, months of her/his, life………

Status

On death & dying, in the funeral home, translated…

On day, an Indonesian Woman Took Her Mother in, But, No Matter How We’d, Checked & Crosschecked the References from Taiwan, We Can’t See, that They are, Mother & Daughter………

That Column of “Spouse”, Left Blank

One day, the owner of a funeral home took an elderly person’s copy of identification, and left it on the desk at the office the moment he’d, walked in.

We looked at the identification, asked, “is the person, coming in soon?”

The owner said, “no, not the man, but his wife, she’s, almost, gone.”

I looked at the identification, there’s nothing on the spousal column, it’d been, left, blank, could it be, someone who’s, just like me, who’d imagined he had a wife, and, the air was, almost, out of, his air-filled dolls? As I thought, I’d, felt empathy, looking at that identification card, I’d felt, closer, and, it didn’t, look like that eyesore that it had become to me.

The owner looked at my face, knew that I wasn’t, thinking straight, said, “He’d been with a divorced woman a long time, they’re both, getting older, with no need to get married again, and, twenty years had, come and gone. Now, the woman is dying, and the man wanted to know, if you can, help take care of the final affairs?”

We’d first inquired, “are they, cohabiting partners?”

The man said, “nope, they are registered separately.”

Then, we’d inquired, “Would they need to set up separate wills?”

The owner shook his head, “They don’t have enough money for that!”

We’d sighed, “then, we can only, ask the social services to sort it all through”.

The owner smiled bitterly, “the elderly just thought, they’d been together so long, they should, help each other with one another’s, final affairs.”

illustration from UDN.com

The woman who was, sweeping up the floors close by said, “Then…how about, marrying one another?”

The few of us were, lost in thought: one of them is in the eighties, and, the other one, about, to get, sent in here too, and, this marriage would be………

The owner smiled bitterly, “I’ll go and ask them.”

About a week later, the owner took an elder into the funeral home, to set the affairs up, the elderly took out his identification, it looked, familiar, I’d, flipped it over, there’s a name on the spouse column now, and the elderly said firmly, “I want to, check my wife in”.

This elderly looked like he was from the lower end of the socioeconomic statuses, leaving the final affairs to the social services, it would surely, help him save up on a lot, and, is, “status”, really, that important?

The Woman Who Wheeled My Mother in

One day, an Indonesian woman sent in her mother, but, we’d, read the paperwork, and just, couldn’t believe, that they were, mother, and daughter at all.

The woman said, back then, it was her aunt who’d, married to Taiwan first, so she could, come over here too, she’d, used some measures, and, managed to have the mother’s name become her aunt’s, and her birthmother, she’d, called her “aunt” instead.

Waited until she’d started living stably here, she’d, moved her mother over to Taiwan to live, and, within a few short months, her own mother tripped, fell, and died.

As I heard this story, although I felt bad for her, but, aunt is aunt is aunt is aunt, and, we’d, slashed the services for those from other countries, that only the blood relatives can be taken care of. We’d, told her the situations, as she’d heard, she’d, waved to us, said, “the cost is nothing, I want to know, can I, help her sort through her final affairs as her daughter?”

We’d thought a bit, consoled her, to go back to Indonesia to try to get the status changed, but, it’d been, a very long time since she’d, changed her information, and, the costs of the funeral would not be, something small.

She’d thought for a bit, and we could tell, she was, really, distraught.

In the end, other than registering her mother as her “aunt” and her being the “niece” of the deceased, she’d, used their real status, but, as the funeral processions happened, she’d started, wailing in front of her own mother’s coffin, cried on how she wasn’t fitting as a daughter, not being able to, give her own mother, a rightful status when she’d died.

Sometimes I’d wondered, so long, as she’d, treated her aunt like a mother in her heart, took care of her, like her real daughter would, would it be important, that the status of “mother” is, specified?

That Most Unforgettable Household Registry

On yet, another day, came, a man, there was a lady who’d, cried so hard outside, actually, this wasn’t, any sort of a big deal, for the death of a spouse, we’d thought, that it would be rarer, if the person doesn’t cry at all.

And yet, this man’s body was only, accompanied by this one woman in his family, and she’d told us, that she’ll, give us the paperwork of their relations later on.

And, as we’re, about to, place him in the ice bins, the woman asked, “can I, say some final words to him?”, we’d nodded.

She’d bent down, patted the man’s head, “Honey, this, is the very first time I called you honey, it’s also, the last, you need to take care of yourself on the other side. Thank you for looking after me so long. You and your older brother, are, the most perfect men I’d ever met in this life, I love you………”

She’d, started, crying like HELL at the icebins, but, as she’d, walked away, she’d, become, very strong.

At this time, the proof of relationships came.

This had happened a long, long time ago, but sometimes, I’d still, gotten reminded of that household registry, with only TWO people registered, the relationship being brother and sister-in-law.

Sometimes, I’d thought, “status”, didn’t seem, so important at times like these.

And so, for the sake of paperwork, you’d, needed to, prove your relationships to the deceased and sometimes, it’s, more complicated than that, because, the two of you may have, related to each other as a husband and wife, but, you’re, actually not, you might be related, in other ways, and yet, the system mandated that we need to proof our status, who we are, in relations, to one another, to have our, loved ones, properly, buried.

Because You Don’t Want to Die Alone…

Because you don’t want to die alone, seeing how, nobody WANTS to be alone, when they’re, still alive, why would anybody want to die, all alone on her/his own?  Because you don’t want to die alone, you’d started, imposing your imminent death onto someone you knew from long ago, and that person, was the only one, that you’d known, who’d, come to, your beck and call.

And because s/he allows you to control her/him like that, you’d, started taking advantage of the fact of how s/he couldn’t, turn you down or away.  Unbeknownst, you’d, started, using manipulative ways, to control the other person.  Because you don’t want to die alone, but, you know what, EVERYBODY dies alone, nobody (not even G-O-D) can help you through the passage from life TO death!

Because you don’t want to die alone, such, a selfish motive, still, you’d, used it, as a VALID excuse, a form of, rationalization, of how and why people, should treat you kind, because you’re dying, therefore, you DESERVED to be shown, some extra kindness, right???  WRONG!!!

Because you don’t want to die alone, well, when I die, I’d much rather be, alone, on my own, and, someone will find me, a little while, AFTER I’m dead and gone, and follow everything I would’ve, specified, in my will, to handle MY final affairs…

Learning to Let Go from Saying Goodbye, to Be a Man of High-Quality

On the last rites, the final rites of one’s passage, translated…

I’d gone to two funerals of my high school classmates in these past few months, and, at the funeral, the collages of their lives were played.

Those old scenes all came back to me, I’d thought about the laughter, the sorrows, the ups and downs of life we’d shared, our friendships which were kept, I couldn’t help but start crying hard! And, in the three, or five-minute short film, it’d, told of the stories of their over fifty years of life, and this was, saying goodbye to life.

We are all, staying afloat in this sea of mirage, and we’d felt, that cold chill! In this mirage of a life, we’d gone to the funerals, and we were often, impacted by the mixtures of emotions. Looking at others, then, thinking about ourselves, our whole life is a huge lesson in learning to say goodbye, and the hardest part of it all, is learning to say goodbye to ourselves, to say farewell to the youth that’s slowly going away, to wave goodbye at the beautiful faces that time had, sculpted, to say farewell, to those whom we loved and cared dearly, our families, to say farewell, to all our meaningless pursuits of fame and fortune…to bid farewell, to everything earthly. Life is learning to let go!

As I’m about to become Buddha! My funeral, I’d wanted to be like how the Buddhist Master, Shen-Yen’s making myself into a better person.

Before I go, I shall, have that slight smile, and with a heart of gratitude, for everything that’s happened in life to me; before I go, I hope that my loved ones, friends, families, and relatives can, use the Buddhist chants, to help my soul return to the West. As for the rituals, I’d wanted everything to be simplified, I shall become nothing but mud, to become the guardians of the flowers.

And so, this is, what life is reduced to, when we all die, we’d become, NOTHING, it’s what we did whilst we were still living, that will, hopefully, get remembered, it’s the lives we managed to touch when we were still on earth, that will keep on flowing, even after we’re gone, and, like this person, just keep everything simplified, because, there’s NO need, to have a flashy funeral, because you’re, already D-E-A-D, and you should NOT care who shows up at your funeral, besides, why would it matter to you? You’re, no longer “here” (on this PLANET???)………

What? I’m Korean!

Finding out why, and, letting go of that feeling of being betrayed, realizing, that what the adults in your life did, was what they thought was, best for you, translated…

Ever since I could recall, I’d lived alone, with my mother in Korea, we’d never spent, a day apart. Later, I’d come to Taiwan to study, to marry, to have children, and settled down in Taipei, with my mother there, by my side. But, shortly after she passed, my former classmates from Korea sent me a weird news: there were, a couple of Koreans who were, desperately, searching for me, and claimed that they were, my relatives.

How’s that possible? Am I, zoomed in, by the international scam artists?

From before when there was only a small circle of Asians we’d associated ourselves with, there’s, that invisible sense of pride from being Chinese, that was, that sense of superiority of being Chinese, not wanting to be with the Koreans, we were, living, on someone else’s land, but felt, that they were, second class citizens. This weird belief, showed the most when someone is arguing with an Asian person, when we only needed to blurt out, “You looked like a Korean!”, it was, the biggest sort of insult to the individual, and, the person you’re arguing with will totally get outraged when you’d called them that.

like this family???  Photo from online…

Growing up in this sort of an atmosphere, I’d only begged to pass the Korean language exams, and, every other course in high school, I’d made straight A’s, only Korean, I’d scored toward the bottom; and, my communication abilities was just enough, for me to use when I go shopping in the marketplaces.

When the Korean who’d come met me to show me he was related to me, he’d provided the adoption papers, and photos of me as a young child, mailed everything to me, and, all of those, “evidences” proved, that I was, a Korean, heads down!

Isn’t it outrageous, thinking that I was, Chinese all along, and then, I turned out to be, Korean? This was, the biggest kind of irony. I refused to admit that I was, Korean, I hated that classmate who’d, exposed me for who I was, and I’d, hated my birthmother, for giving me up for adoption.

After six months’ worth of struggles, my second eldest sister kept making those international calls to care for me, and, repeatedly, sent the presents to my husband and my two children, and my heart finally, started, to disarm itself, and finally agreed to, meet with them.

In the city of Suwon, I’d finally, met my five sisters and my younger brother. All these middle-aged uncles and aunts, as they’d, described of the hardship and trials they’d weathered through in life, I’d not heard a single word of complaint, their persistence, optimism, passion, comparing to my own prejudices, my aloofness, my dissatisfactions, made me so ashamed I wanted to find a hole to hide in.

What right had I, to hold my prejudices against Koreans? And, why can’t I understand, the pains and hardships my mother who’d carried me for ten whole months, and know how trying it must’ve been, for her, to give me up for adoption? Had it been not my birthfather’s death when he was way too young, had it not been my mother being too young, and needed to remarry, had it not been for my second eldest sister crying for one whole weeks at my adopted mother’s home, and got “returned”, and I got sent up for adoption, my fate would’ve been, so totally, different, how could I have gotten to live as an only child, cherished, sent to Taiwan for my college years, to become a teacher, to meet a good man, and marry and have children.

or this???  Photo from online…

And now, both my mothers had passed, but the love they had for me, was enough, to last me, my whole life. Toward my birthmother, other than being grateful, there’s, that extra understanding; for my adoptive mother, other than, being grateful, there’s that sense of, missing her forever!

And so, it’s all due to fate, that this had, happened, and, back when you were a child, you may not understand WHY it was, that you were, given up for adoption, and perhaps, you’d carried the resentments toward your birthparents, for giving you up, and your adoptive parents, to keeping the truth from you, but, as you got older, and started your own family, you’d, realized, that given the situations of your past, all those adults did what they thought was, best for you, and, you’d become, grateful, for having everything that you have in life…