Category Archives: Loss

Unwilling

On death and dying, based off of the Buddhist belief systems, translated…

After the Passing of My Father, in 2009, I’d, Become a Monk with the Fagu Mountain Foundations, Taking Care of My Father in His Aging, Demented Years, was that Gem that Remained in My Memories, But, it’d Made the Me Ten Years Later, Start This, Conversations that’s, Transcendental of, Time…………………

The Travel Bag I’d Packed for Dad

Tired from reading my books, so I’d, shifted my gaze to the photo of my father in that Christmas hat, his round face had a feeding tube into his nose, and that look of a child made my heart ached, smiled at me lightly, and I’d, replied back to him with a similar smile.

Before dad I always acted crazy, wanted him to laugh with me, to play, to finish EVERY single item to care for him.  I have NO clue how he would interpret his crazy daughter, but as I see my cherished old baby, I can’t help, but smile on, wanted to hug him, to kiss him every single day.  Looking at his face, asleep soundly like an infant, I can’t bear to leave his side, worried that if he didn’t see me when he woke, he’ll, cry again.  And, even though it was hard for me to let go, I must, if that day will come, I can only hope, that my depending-on-me-too-much dear old pops can, follow the steps of Buddha closely, to not get lost.  I kept on worrying, just continued, worrying…………………

illustration from UDN.com

圖/紅林

In a corner of my home, there was a small travel pack, that was prepared by me for my dad, the whole family knows it too.  There’s the quilt we will pull over his body, the Buddhist verses chanting machines, the phone number of the funeral home, a pair of his dress shoes that he’d worn regularly, for the sake of when that day comes, he can, leave it all behind, with nothing, holding him back.  Every time we were told he needed to get placed in the I.C.U., I’d always, take this small pack with me, or, as the phone rang during the middle of the nights, my eyes would, automatically, shift to where the travel pack was.

I was born too late, knew things a bit too late, and, all I could do for my father, is just, this.

I’d often thought, that if that day comes, for my father’s sake, I can’t cry, I can’t, have him leave this world with his worries of me, and he couldn’t hear that music that’s, guiding him toward nirvana, that I needed to, see him off, in smiles.  I have to, make myself stronger, learn to, hold back my own, tears—and yet, as I’d thought of all of this, tears, they came, out.

Where Can I Go, to Find Him

I wasn’t willing, if one day, I’m, never to see my father again, what shall I do?  There’s no place, where, can I go, to find him?  I think, I shall, cry at the end, I’m, a crybaby, just like dear old dad.  Even though, everybody says that illness is trying, the end is the release from the bodily tortures, but, it’s also, the start of a, hard and trying time of missing the ones we lost too much.

Time came and went like the flash floods, we became, so tiny, like those, sediment.  Turning around, everything is, no longer, as it once, had been, how many lifetime’s worth of affinity must there be, for us, to meet up in this, current life?  If we want to meet up, then, we will keep on, walking on those, eggshells, without a second thought, along with the mercies of all the gods, then, we will be given the chance, to be together, in one, lifetime.

Life is a journey, we are on that same train together, some get on early, get off early, everybody has a different time; husband and wife, father and daughter, siblings, no matter how deeply we’re all connected, no matter how much we love one another, everything will be gone, like a flash of, lightning, but everything we’d gone through, will settle in, inside that field of our own cognition, like those, Buddhist beads.  We should, cherish what time we have on the ride, to use the time we’re given, to give to others, to cherish those around us, then, we wouldn’t, let what we’d been given, the kindness, the mercies that we received in life, waste, away.

Everlight Thinks

In the endless karmic cycles, how many times we parted already?  The Buddhist verses told us, that the tears we’d shed in the karmic cycle from hate, love, overflowed the four seas, the bones we’d accumulated, already, surpassed the tallest of peaks.  I will, use the body my parents had endowed me, to follow the Buddhist path, to give to the world in all my lifetimes, to give back to, all on earth.

Yeah, this, is this woman’s will, she’d, lost her father, and, it’d made her realized, that life is, filled with, the uncertainties, and that drove her to want to give back to the people in the world, not just those whom she cared for, she has a grander kind of love, which grew out of the love for her own, families.

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Filed under Family Matters, Life, Loss, Old Age, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

The Air, My Friend

On what’s gone, and never coming back again, as MERS-CoV still, runs this world, despite how it seemed to be, slowing, down, the column by Jimmi Liao, translated, by me…

“Oh how I Missed Those Days When We Didn’t Need to Put on These Masks”…………

圖/幾米
the artwork of Jimmi Liao, courtesy of UDN.com

And, despite how the alert level had been, downgraded, the virus is still around, and it can attack us at any moment, anywhere, and so, we all must still, protect ourselves, and put these masks on when we go out, it’s for our own safety, as well as the safety of ours.

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Filed under Life, Loss, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Right to Life

Betrayed, by Her Death

He was, betrayed by her death (uh, as if she had a choice???), she was, supposed to be his one and only, and, he’d not, planned, to share her with anyone, or anything, death, included!

And yet, death got its, filthy hand on her, way before he ever could touch her…

Betrayed by her death, he’d felt, cheated, by her, but not by death, ‘cuz, that’s, the only way he has, of, preventing himself from feeling the guilt, so yeah, he’d, blamed her for it, when it wasn’t, even her fault!

查看來源圖片
coming to collect, no, to CLAIM, your souls!!! Image from online

Betrayed by her death, that, is how it goes, isn’t it, with the living, blaming the D-E-A-D for leaving behind, all those things not said yet, all those, love not yet had, along with, those, never-ending, miles of, regrets that, paved that way…

Betrayed by her death, he was, abandoned as a young child, by his own mother, because she couldn’t give him a good life, so, she’d, given him up, and, not a day goes by, that she’d not, regretted that one choice she’d made from way back when.  And that, would be, two wishes, never fulfilled, because, now she’s, dead, and, so many things he wanted to say to her, the I love you, the how could you do this to me, the I hate you!

All of that, got lost, because he is, ultimately, betrayed, by her death, and, there’s, no closure for him ever………

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Filed under Awareness, Life, Loss, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Properties of Life

They’d Broken Up, & Drunk from the Drug Coffee Pouches, the Woman Died

The drugs still abused, despite how everything else is, halted, by MERS-CoV!  Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

As the outbreaks of MERS-CoV reached its height, the addicts didn’t care about the possibility of contraction, and still gone to the hotel rooms, to abuse the illegal substances together.  A woman, Chang, and a man, Song from Taoyuan met up at a motel to drink the drug filled drip coffee pouches, Chang fell into a coma, died, the police confiscated ten packs of drug coffee and arrested Song; the man, Hsieh and his girlfriend, Hsu in Hsinchu went to the motel to abuse ketamine, found by the police, they’d claimed, that they’d not used the drugs during the outbreaks, that they were having a relapse from the abuse, and desperately needed it, so they’d, gone to the motels to “fix” the problems on their own.

The police found, the twenty-three-year-old woman, Chang and the twenty-nine-year-old man, Song broke up, but still gone out on a drug date, late in the night on the second, they’d checked into a motel in Taoyuan; the following morning at around eight, Song found Chang in a coma, asked the motel staff to call emergency, Chang was in the hospitals, being resuscitated for five whole hours, and still, died.

查看來源圖片
drug abuse doesn’t take a “holiday” because of MERS-CoV outbreaks here! Photo from online

That morning, as the police were notified by the hospital, they’d rushed to the motel, saw Song, and found two balloons with laughing gas for abuse, they’d had sexual intercourse, as the police told Chang’s body tested positive for amphetamine and ecstasy, that was when he’d admitted to abusing the drug coffee pouches, and turned the ten packs he had in his car to the police, claimed that Chang brought it wither from home.  The police rushed to Chang’s residence, and, confiscated one pack of drug coffee from her bedroom, and, charged Song on possession and drug abuse charges.

And, during the midnight hours of the seventh, the patrol officers were doing the rounds, passing a motel in Zhudong Township, found the thirty-two-year-old mal, Chang and the thirty-year-old woman, Hsu leaving, the police pulled them over, but found they’d looked, off, and demanded that they get out of the car to get scanned, and, the police found 1.5 grams of ketamine, and the plate used to cut the drugs.

The two claimed, that the karaoke, the bars, and other places they could go all got closed down, but the hotels, the motels were still open, they’d paid six hundred dollars N.T. to stay, and spent three hours abusing ketamine, they were both booked for drug possession charges.

And so, when you need it, you need it, and, because of the outbreaks, this will make it even harder, for someone who’s, in need of a quick fix, and that is what happened here, because these individuals needed a fix, and, all the other places are shut due to MERS-CoV, so they’d gone to the motels to abuse the drugs, and they still got caught!

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Filed under Abuser/Enabler Interaction Style, Death by Negligence, Life, Lives Lost, Loss, Messed Up Values, Observations, Properties of Life, Substances Abuse, Wake Up Calls, White Picket Fence

As Death, Approached…

He’d started, noticing death, wandering around and about, outside of, his doors, at first, he wasn’t, alerted one bit, he’s still, quite young, death couldn’t, come for him, not yet anyways!

As death, approached, he’d, shockingly realized, that it’s, coming, for me!!!  And he’d, flown, into, that frenzy, started off in panic mode: how can this be?  I’d been, very careful of my own health, no, that’s not it, it can’t be here, for me, I must be, mistaken…

hear his footsteps, getting closer, and closer, and closer yet…

查看來源圖片
photo from online

As death, approached, he’d grown, weaker, as death became, stronger by the day, lurking over his head, and now, he lay, in that, white-washed walled, hospital room, with every cell in his body, tuned in to, the fears that death made him feel.

As death, approached, he knew that there’s, NO escaping it, for, NOBODY lives, forever, and, he’d, started, slowly, accepting, that this could be, his own, end.  As death, approached, it’d, grazed him, left but, a scorch mark on his soul, but he’s still, breathing, so that’s, a sort of a blessing, isn’t it???

As death, approached, all of us, held our breaths in, hoping, praying, with our fingers crossed, that it wasn’t, here, for us, not just yet, but, death comes, to EVERY life, there’s, NO way of, escaping it!

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Filed under Expectations, Loss, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

A Beautiful , Yet Sad Story, Love in the Schooling Years

The love that didn’t get spoken in time, the love that passed on, with the death of that someone you liked in your, schooling years, and what his death had, taught you, translated…

One Day, I’d, Opened up My Closet, and No Matter How Hard I’d, Looked, I Just, Couldn’t, Find Those, Two Shirts, and because They’re of My Personal Collections, I’d, Not Dared Made it Open, Nor Asked Anyone, I can Only, Pull Out All the Clothes, and Prodded with My Hands, Inside that, Emptied, Drawer………………

I Just Want to Grab onto Something, a Strand of What was Left Was, Fine

My first love came to a halt, in an accident, that boy I liked in my second year of middle school, before we had the chance to exchange a single word with one another, vanished, without, a single, trace.

I was only fourteen, had absolutely NO clue of how the universe worked, I looked all around me, and saw, nothing, but the fogs, and so, I’d felt, that strong sense of helplessness, over this world which I’d originally, had a firm grasp over, I’d, wanted to, extend my hand outward, and fish around, for something, anything!

I was, close to the boy’s younger sister, she’d, worked her best, to sort through everything that her older brother had, left behind, in the countryside of Kaohsiung, everybody was living in poverty stricken means, they seem to be worse off than we were, and, what she could give me were, a couple of blurry photographs, two of her older brother’s shirts, and, the textbook that seemed to have never been, flipped through by him.

I’d carried these things as if they were, something, precious, with tentativeness and care, I’d, stashed the photo inside my diary, and, folded his clothes up to tiny, placed them to the depth of my own closet, and, I’d, read through all the pages of his textbooks thoroughly.  Back then, I’d already, read a ton of, novels, and among these, were the romances, and I’d, stubbornly held on to the beliefs of: he liked me, although just like me, he’d, never said aloud, btu he must’ve, stashed that feeling inside his heart, and, written some lines about it.

I can’t know his heart anymore, but, who knows, if he’d, only, written something inside the texts, as he’d drifted into space in class?

The summers in Kaohsiung, those, never ending, summer days, came together in a bundle, in front of the window, in the sunlight, I’d, flipped through the volumes page by page, Chinese, history, math, geography……………the class of loose students, there was only the difference of the colors of the pages being pure white, and yellow.  The schemata which were, activated in my mind, and for every horizontal stroke of pen, I’d, immediately believed that it was the first stroke of my own last name; and yet, the young boy didn’t even leave a dot of his ballpoint pen.

And so, I can only, return all his textbooks, to the past.

And so, what remained, of my first love, were the two shirts, three photos, a newspaper clipping of how two middle school boys drowned by the oceans, along with that locked diary, crawling with my handwriting ink.

No Blackhole, Nor Boy in Hiding

One day, I’d opened up my closet, and can’t find those two shirts no matter how hard I’d tried, and because they’re, my private stash, I’d not dared, asked anybody, and can only, pull all the clothes out, and, prodded into the drawers now emptied, with my own hands, that maybe, there was, a blackhole inside, that swallowed everything that didn’t belong; or maybe, there’s, that secret tunnel in the back of my wardrobe, that the boy didn’t die, he’s, just, hiding, and, came in the middle of the nights, to pull his own shirt away, wanting to tell the girl: hey, I’m still here, in some corner of this world.

Then, the diary I’d kept at the bottom of my desk drawer, seemed to have moved around, I’d taken it out to look, the locks were cut off, and the photo, the newspaper clippings, all gone, and the smeared pages I’d written down as I cried, were all, torn off, perfectly.

Okay, okay, there was, NO blackhole, no mystery, no boy hidden, the one who’d, wiped it all away was, my mother.

My homeroom instructor must’ve called my parents about this, and in the heat of anger, my mother swept up my room, got rid of everything that she deemed as obstacles in my life, everything I’d, hold too dearly to my mind.

illustration from UDN.com

圖/Emily Chan

For the first few years, the boy was buried in that tiny cemetery in the bamboo forest, in the middle of the fields, then after the bones were collected, the headstone removed, then, the fields, the bamboo forest got turned into a huge, construction site, then, the concrete jungle came atop, there’s no place for me, to remember him then.

Then, what I wrote, it will do, right.  I’d written everything into a novel on BBS, and everybody liked it, it’d reminded the readers of everything in their own, younger, years, I’d even, published it, sold many copies too, but a few years, the book became, out-of-print, and, forgotten, by the, world then.

So, everything with a set form, disappear eventually, no matter how hard you’d tried to hold on, that handful of sand still, slips out.  I’d prodded these past two years, even the parents of the boy had both, passed on, and, those who’d remembered the guy’s smile, got reduced by two more people, will we all, not leave, anything behind, one day, just spreading out palms out?

No, maybe, there’s, something that’s, evolved, and now, I’d not rummaged through my daughter’s closets, drawers, or read her diaries anymore, to not throw away anything she’d, stashed away in secret.

To protect someone’s complete forms of her/his youth, that was, what that boy who’d died too young had, given to me, a life-long, gift.

And so, this lesson from this boy you liked who’d died, taught you a lesson with his death, that love is precious, that you must, take a hold of the love you want to hold onto in the now, otherwise, it will, slip away too quickly, and, you’d also, learned to, NOT read your own teenage daughter’s diary, to let her have her private things, that only she is aware of, because your mother didn’t respect your things!

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Filed under Because of Love, Interpersonal Relations, Life, Loss, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life, The Teenage Years

Letters From A Son: A Note To The Old Man — The Written Addiction

Hey Pop,It’s been awhile. It’s been 31 years to be exact. In fact it was 31 years ago today when you left us. I’m sorry it’s been a little while since my last letter. Not sure if you can see the news where you are but the world is in a little bit of a tailspin. […]

Letters From A Son: A Note To The Old Man — The Written Addiction

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Filed under Abandonment of Children, Adult Children, Bad Parenting Behaviors, Broken Promises, Children in Mindset, Loss, Properties of Life, Things Left Behind

Piece by Piece, You’d, GLUED Me Back…

Call this, the, “confessions”, of a, porcelain if you wish!

Piece by piece, you’d, GLULED me back, only, to SHATTER me, all over again?  Why, huh?  Why do you need to, hurt me like that?  It’s, hard enough, to feel all of my, broken pieces, not intact, like I’m, about to, fall apart at any given moment.  Why why had you, put me back together again?

Piece by piece, you’d, GLUED me back, and, the next time someone did something AWFUL to you again, you’d, taken it out of me, and I’m supposed to what?  Just, keep on, getting, beaten up by you, is that it, huh?

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what became, of me…photo from online

And so, what if, I’m only, a porcelain doll, an object, I hurt too you know?  Well, I don’t, but I get shattered, and that, is how I know, that I’m, hurt!

Piece by piece, you’d, GLUED me back, and again, and again, you’d, shattered me, all over, and now, there’s, NO a single millimeter of my skin that’s, in one-piece, because of you!!!

And I blame you, for breaking me apart, you should’ve, just, trashed me when your mother told you to, but you didn’t…………

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Filed under Abandonment of Children, Abuse, Abuser/Enabler Interaction Style, Life, Lives Lost, Loss, Love Became Murder, Properties of Life, The Doll Corner, Vicious Cycle, Wrongful Deaths

Until the Darkness Swallowed Us, Whole…

Until the darkness swallowed us, whole, we will, NEVER be aware enough of what the darkness entailed, and, by the time the darkness takes us over, it’d be, too late!  Until the darkness swallowed us, whole, until we have, NO more light, we won’t, know just, how precious, light really is, as we’d, taken it, for granted, all this time…

查看來源圖片when this, is all you’ll, EVER, see!  Photo from online

Until the darkness swallowed us, whole, but, that would be, too late then, we would’ve, sunk, too deep, into, that darkened, abyss, to even, get our selves, back out to the surfaces again.  Until the darkness swallowed us, whole, it’s always, until the darkness swallowed us is, took that light away, would we, finally realized, just, how precious, light is, in our lives, but by then, we have, NO way of, getting it back.

Until the darkness swallowed us, whole, until, we lived in the darkness, for a long, long, long, long time, we won’t, realize, just how important, that light we’d, once had was, and then, we can’t, EVER, get it back, it’s, already lost…

They don’t call it HINDSIGHT for nothing you know???

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Filed under Being Exposed, Cost of Living, Expectations, Hindsight, Lessons, Losing Sight of What's Important, Loss, Observations, Story-Telling, Vicious Cycle, Wake Up Calls

When Death is the Only Gift I Can Give to You

Death is, the only gift I can, give to you, love!  I don’t want you to, suffer anymore…

When death is the only gift I can, give to you, I can’t!  I just, can’t bear the thought of, losing you, it’s, too painful!  When death is the only gift I can, give to you, because you’re, in so much pain, and you’d, become, reduced, to less than you were, from when you were still, healthy, happy, and free, and now, you got, trapped, inside this, sick little body of yours, growing weaker by the day!

When death is the only gift I can, give to you, will I be able to, just, let go, of my love for you, knowing that, you’d be, better off, DEAD?  And, how can I, say goodbye to you, my love, after we’d, shared, so many years of our lives together, of all that we’d, weathered through with each other, huh?

like this???查看來源圖片photo from online

You’re, asking too much of me, and I just, can’t!  I can’t, let you go, you mean too much to me, I can’t, lose you, it hurt, just, thinking about it!

When death is the only gift I can, give to you, then, I will, force myself to give you just that, because, I will, NEVER allow you, to suffer, like someone I used to love, suffered, before he was, put down!

So yeah if death turns into, the only gift I can, give to you, then, I shall, give it, and nobody says SHIT about it!!!

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Filed under Awareness, Choices, Decision-Making, Despair, Euthanasia, Life, Loss, Properties of Life, Right to Die, the Finality of Life