How sometimes, we’re prone to, take things, too, personally, even IF, they weren’t, directed, toward us, the column by Jimmi Liao, translated by me…
The Wind Blew Past the Clouds, the Clouds, Floated on. The Wind Blew Across the Coconut Trees, the Coconut Swayed.
The Wind Blew Past Me, I’d Started, Shivering. The Wind, Hated Me
the artwork of Jimmi Liao, courtesy of UDN.com
So, this is, taking things, too personally, it isn’t even directed toward you, but because you’re, way too, sensitive, you feel, offended, and that’s nobody’s fault, ‘cuz that’s just, how you were, raised, or that it is a part of your, inborn, characteristics…
The attitude to which, this woman, come to terms with her, cancer diagnosis…translated…
I’d bumped into my friend, S at the hospital, after the greetings, we’d asked what we were there for? What department are we going to see? S stated with ease, that she’d just set up the stay at the hospital, she’s getting the operations the following day.
How can that be? Aren’t surgeries always, stressful and worrisome? S looked like she was, out for, a stroll in the afternoon.
S saw my question, explained, “last year when I went for my health check, it’d shown that I had a node in my lungs, I’d gone for the follow-up earlier this year, the CT showed that the node on my left lung grew bigger, the oncologists recommend that I have it removed to get a biopsy. I’d though, it’d not impacted me, it’d not hurt, would it be necessary, that I go, under, the knife? Guess I’ll, wait for a while then. And yet, the fact is right before her, she kept swaying between whether or not to get the biopsy. And so, I’d asked a physician friend of mine, Dr. Huang, and he’d, used only five words, and I was, convinced, to check myself in.”
“Might I inquire, what the four words were?”, I’d asked.
S smiled that stealthy smile, “it’s more than worth it!”
So, is there, a “calculation” of how much going under the knife was worth it or not?
Turned out, Dr. Huang reminded her, that the cancers of the lungs, are mostly, asymptomatic, unless through the low-dose CT, and the biggest myth was, a lot of people believed, that they aren’t smokers, so they won’t have lung cancer, but medically, in Taiwan, ninety-percent of female lung cancer patients don’t smoke at all, and so, this, was a must. Going under the knife for a minor procedure, to get the truths known, no need to worry over it, most importantly, it’s, early discovery, in the earliest stages, easiest to, treat and cure, isn’t it, quite, worthy?
I squeezed S’s hand, wished her the best, she’d smiled, “knowing, facing it, dealing with it, to get that firmness underneath my feet, this is, such, a wonderful, feeling!”
And so, this is on how attitude determines, everything, especially when there’s the uncertainties in our lives, we must, keep believing, that we are going down this road, and wherever it’ll lead, is wherever we’re, meant to be, and if you carry this mindset, than, nothing will, faze you!
How this father’s love finally showed, in the means he took care of his injured daughter, and it’d, touched her heart, translated…
In the minds of grown children, the parents’ cares and concerns might feel, at times, too, excessive. We’d taken their care and concerns as, bothersome, and so, we’d fought with them, trying, to reason.
Up until a month ago, dislocated my left elbow in a car crash, sustained a fracture, life became, quite hard for me. My mother came over from the exterior islets to help look after me, then, came my father, to care for me. In that first meal my father made for me, the foods were, broken down to bits and pieces, to beyond visual recognition! Turned out, my father thought of how hard it may be for me, using just one hand with a fork to eat, he’d, dismembered my food for me, it was, quite, shocking to see. It’s just, that in the days that followed, looking at how the sunny side ups, the porkchops, became, completely “dismembered”, I’d slowly, grown, used to them, and, these unsightly, broken down items, tasted, somewhat, sweetened.
My parents’ special treatments of my made my younger sister jealous, “Sis, how come there’s the bones still attached to my porkchop, while your pork’s been, sliced to perfect? Dad played favorite too much.”, she’d pretended to get angered. But, that wasn’t all, my father warned her, to only keep the pitcher half-full, to peel up the plastic bottle with the ready-to-drink soymilk, so it won’t be difficult for me………..that little princess, became nothing.
If I was due for physical therapy in the afternoons, my father would always wake himself up from his nap, and tied the iron protective outer gear on my body. As he’d pulled on the strings to tighten, his shoulder with the problems, his thinly bones from his diabetes, along with his bent fingers, would start trembling because of the improper application of force, and I’d always felt that shock in my heart then, making my nose, sour up.
In the evenings when I arrived home, the door was always, unlocked, with the messages of “waiting for you” in my box. Then, my father who’s, a bit hard-of-hearing would turn his head to stare, as he’d heard my pushing through the door, then, he’d ended his mission of waiting for me to return, and readied himself to head out to buy the suppers. From before, he’d been limited in his mobility for his dizziness, he’d only gone to the nearby diners to purchase the meals. And now, as he took charge of my meal plans, he’d worried I may get tired of eating the same things, he’d gone a bit farther from home, to get the varieties, what was, supporting his, balance in walking, I’d, wondered.
illustration from UDN.com
As my mother went home, it’d become even harder for me to wash my own hair, and blow-dry afterwards. “Do I get my father to assist me?”, in my childhood, for the eldest daughter, my father had always been authoritarian, there are almost NO memories of him gentle toward us, but, my dripping hair had led me to him. Without another word, he’d started, carefully, blow-drying my, hair then. The wind from the blow dryer came into my ears, started filling up that gap of him who’d been missing in my, childhood memories.
In the evenings, my father’s used to watching T.V., eating his midnight snacks in the living room, in the past, I’d come out of my bedroom, and sat with him to talk with him. And now, I only had the strength to sit quietly beside him, then, do what the physical therapist told me to, massage my left arm with my right hand, and, it’d become unclear, who was, accompanying, whom then. May be that the house was too quiet, before long, he’d started, dozing, off.
“My arm is so sore!”, my words awakened my father. Still sleepy-eyed, he’d, extended his hand to me, took away my massage ball, and started using it on my right arm. And, the rhythm to which he’d helped massaged my arm was like his dozing off, waking up, starting halting, starting, halting again. I’d felt comfortable, it wasn’t just the physical sore of arm that’s gotten soothed, it was my heart too.
Looking toward my father, I’d felt, so comforted over this form of connection we were, sharing them. So I’d told myself, if one day, I get to, soar again, even if the pull on the string was a bit too tightened, to never forget, that it’s those same hands, that helped steadied me in the storms too.
And so, it wasn’t until you got injured, did you feel the love from your own father, and that’s just it, fathers, they rarely express their cares and concerns for their own young, but, they’re always, close by, watching over us, and they will, jump in to help us, when we’re, in trouble, because that’s what daddies, do.
That was, an impossible “feat” from before, but, lost you, I had, and I must, go on…
To breathe again, without you, it was, like the air got, knocked out of me, repeatedly, after you’d been, taken away from me, and it’d hurt every time I’d, breathed, and I’d felt, so very guilty: why am I here, and you’re, not?
To breathe again, without you, it’d been hard, and some days, I’d wished that I had died too, but, my heart’s still, pumping, a lot of blood inside of this, body of mine. To breathe again, without you, it was, next to impossible, ‘cuz I got trapped up in the loss of you, my love.
the song by Shania Twain, off of YouTube
To breathe again, without you, I couldn’t, and yet, I can’t, stop myself, from breathing in the air I need inside these, lungs of mine! To breathe again, without you, I’m still, grieving over you, it’s just, that you’d, “surfaced” back up into my mind, a little less and less than before, so yeah, I’m moving on, one foot at a time, still, marching to the ticks and the tocks of this god damn clock that’s now, taken over my life.
To breathe again, without you, it was hard, but I’m doing it, focusing on every moment I inhale, and exhale, thinking about, nothing else, that, is the only thing I can do, to prevent my self, from getting lost in the loss of you again.
Can’t see what he did, only pointed finger to those who’d, “wronged” him, yeah, that’s the bad behaviors, of a man all right! How KARMA is still, a total, BITCH! Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…
A plumber-electrician, Yu because he was in a foul mood in July, he’d taken a bomb, with the reputation of “Satan’s Mother” to the police substation, stated that he was going to, detonate it, and, he’d actually, accidentally pressed the detonator, and set the bomb off, his right palm was blown to bits, and got taken to the hospital and amputated; the Hsinchu District Court tried him, found that he’d caused troubles in public safety, but already paid a dear price, sentenced him to seven years six months for breaking the laws of ownership of illegal dangerous arms, and obstruction of police business.
The verdict pointed out, Wu learned to make the bomb from online, went to the hardware, chemical stores on July 6th , bought the needed supplies, and started making the bomb at home, and, late that evening, he’d tried to see his own young daughter, was barred from seeing her, got in a foul mood, took the bomb, “Satan’s Mother” to the police substation locally.
as Yu entered into the substation, he’d immediately told the officer on duty he was with an explosive device, and took it out to “play with” again, and again, the officers worried that Yu may actually detonate, tried calming him down, while calling up his father, and, Yu started shouting at his father in the phones, that he had a bomb on him, and he got more and more, worked up as they spoke.
And, half way through talking with his father, Yu accidentally set the detonator off, and, blew up his own right palm, and thankfully, none of the officers on duty had, gotten injured.
And so, this is what happened, when you put an explosive device in the hands of someone who’s, worked up, emotionally unstable, and what exacerbated this man’s bad behavior, was his own ex-wife’s barring him from seeing his own daughter, and he’d not considered WHY, his own ex-wife barred him from seeing his own young daughter, because he’d gone to her place too late, and the child may already be in bed, and he’d, blamed EVERYBODY else for his, “misfortunes”…
Kindness recalled, and returned, as your seventh aunt had shown a ton of care and concerns toward you when you were younger, her aunt, became, like a mother to her, translated…
My seventh aunt’s daughter was on business trip to New York, and, although it was an eight-hour drive for me to see her both ways, I’d, still made the trip, and, as I drove, I’d, remembered the past.
My parents were divorced, my father remarried, and my stepmother had her own children, and for years on end, my older sister and I were, kept at my grandma’s house. We are a huge family from Canton, my grandma had five sons and five daughters, my father being the eldest son. My seventh uncle married my beautiful seventh aunt, and, lived in with grandpa, grandma, my ninth aunt, and the two of us sisters. Knowing that I was testing into high school that year, every morn my seventh aunt would prepare the breakfasts for me, served it to me, told me, “Ann, go for your dreams! The nutritious meal I made for you, this will help you get into a good school!”, she always, gently, repeated those words of care and concerns toward me.
From when I was growing up, nobody made me the breakfasts like my seventh aunt had.
Seeing how little my younger cousin dressed as she’d come to New York, I took her to the name brand couture store, called up my husband (because I’d never spent so much money before in my whole life to shop), bought a warm coat for her. And the look of surprise she’d shown me, I still kept in mind, what she didn’t know was, her mother, many a year ago, had helped a lost, young woman who was in desperate need of love, of care and concern, felt the warmth, and this kindness, I will, forever, remember.
And so, this, is how you’d, finally, started paying back your seventh aunt’s kindness to you, she’d loved you like a mother loves her daughter, took care of you, showed you a ton of care and concerns, and now, you were only, repaying her kindness, but not even close, by buying the clothes to help your younger cousin stay warm.
I thought it was, impossible, loving you, a child who’s, not, mine, but I do, love you, oh so, very much…
When he brought you home, you were wrapped up inside, that warm blanket, and I’d, become your mother right then and there, and, it’d not mattered to me, where you came from, you were, mine for certain.
And, I watched you grow up, get into, your, equal share of troubles, and, when it came time for me, to pick up after your messes, yeah, I’d, complained, but, I remembered, that loving you, a child who’s, not, mine, was the choice I’d decided on, and, all the annoyances, went, away.
Loving you, a child who’s, not, mine, never thought I was, capable, of such, selfless kind of love, placing you before me, never thought I could, love someone so very much, since my own died.
But I love you, child, who’s, not mine, oh so dearly, so very, much, and I always will!
The kindness that flowed, from this employer to the foreign hired nurse, that it’d made the woman felt that she’s, at home here, away from her own, home, and now, she has a home on the second of the Chinese New Year’s to return to, if she has the day off, translated…
As I was mopping up in the kitchen, I’d heard someone yell from the outside, “Ma’am!”, I’d guessed, that the hired nurse for my mother-in-law, Meiti is home. I’d gone out to look, it was her, as she saw me, she’d, come towards me, wanted to hug me, but, she’d, slammed on the brakes, “Wait, social distancing!”, then squinted to me, smiled and stated, “I’m home to mom!”
Meiti worked for us for three years, after my mother-in-law had passed, she was legally transferred to another family, she’d told us she’d wanted to stay with us, but, we don’t qualify for hiring a foreign nurse or a home worker. She’s our daughter’s age, very smart, and well-behaved, we interacted like family, toward her leaving us, I’d felt, sad too, and can only, ask the agent, to find her a good “home”.
In her new workplace, Meiti’s duties is to care for the elderly grandpa who’d had a stroke, the family makeup is quite simple, they’d mostly, bought the meals from outside, other than cleaning the house, there’s, actually, not that much for her to do, I’d thought, that based off of her abilities, she should have, no problems at all, but, she’d cried to me several times, and hoped I could, come visit her.
the foreign hired nurse’s interactions with the elderly she takes care of…photo from online
I’d gone to visit her twice, and that’s when it’d dawned on me, it wasn’t how Meiti was nostalgic, that we’d cooked all our meals, she’d also, missed how we could, prepare the meals and chit chatted, and how we’d, all sat together to eat, that it’d made her feel less homesick. In the home of her new employer, although she could have the already prepared meals bought for her, but, faced to the grandpa who’d become incapable of speech due to his stroke, and the walls of silence, she’d, missed her own home in Indonesia, as well as our home too.
As I’d understood Meiti, and after I’d asked for the consents of her new employer, I’d invited Meiti to “come home to her family”. She is a well-behaved, helpful child, soon as she arrived, she’d immediately started, helping around the house, knew I’d enjoyed strolling around, she’d often, accompanied me to walk close by. On this very day, she’d made the curry with the scallops to treat me, she is, just like, a daughter to me.
And so, this, is how this employer treated this foreign hired helper like her own family, that after the elderly the hired nurse passed away, the foreign nurse missed the family, and, she now as a home for the second of the New Year’s, if she has the day of work off, a home away from her home, a place where she can go to be loved.
The night withering, away, and there’s, nothing we can do ‘bout it, no matter how much we wanted it to last, it just, can’t and won’t!
The night, withering, away, it just, faded, into black, like those, old memories we once hold so very close to our hearts. The night, withering, away, and, it’s still, tick-tocking, on that countdown of the clock, and it won’t slow down, nor stop, ever.
the night, fading into day…photo from online
The night withering, away, how can we, make sure, that these nights last forever, huh? Is there, any way, we can, just live inside, this, freeze frame of our own, imagination, and never age one more day? Because, oh, how I longed, to stay in your arms, forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever………
The nights, withering, away, and there’s, NO stopping this process of time, and, we’d, run short again, as that sunlight, came through those dusted curtains once more, you are, leaving again.
The problem here, is still NOT with the daughter, but with the mother, but, does she realize it??? Of course N-O-T, translated…
From awhile ago, on the news, a certain organization had been losing money by the year, the second-generation owner decided to sell of the office building, for cash, the founder, as he was, interviewed, stated, “My heart ached as my son did it, but now, I’d, trusted in his decisions entirely!”
This pair of father and son made me so envious, and at the same time, I’d, felt heartache for them both, because how I’d, wished that my own mother, can trust me like this father had his own son too.
From the views of the world, I guess, I’m, the pride of my parents: made high grades, gone to an all-star institution, and, managed to pass the exams for a public office on my very first try, I’d never needed my parents to worry over my school performances or my work.
Although my mother stated verbally, that I’d, done well for myself, but she’d, never had faith, that I can, handle things on my own, whether it be how I’d spent my money, how to treat others I meet, whether to have children after I married, who should care for my child if s/he was born…………my mother’s criticisms came at me, never-ending, “it’s for your sake”, was her most widely used phrase, and her weapon.
She’d never understood, that what she’d believed to be a show of care and concern, her nagging, was interpreted as how she didn’t trust me enough, I’d tried to tell her, but her response was always, “Those with your last names, can’t take any criticisms from others!”
When I was interning, I’d, lived at home, I’d had a crash on a rainy day, and, as I’d, bent my knees, my injuries started bleeding, but I’d not let my mother know, I’d, bent down, holding the pains in, as I’d helped clean up the house, until my mother rode out to get the groceries, and found the head of the motorcycle dented, that, was when she’d, found out. I’d gotten into another, serious crash after I was married, and, it’d been years to this very day, I’d still, not told my parents what had happened to me.
Of the two wrecks I got in, I was, very scared, but I knew, that other than feeling anxious over me, and nagging me, my parents couldn’t do anything for me, and they’d, surely, blamed me, for being, too careless too. And so, no matter how painful, I’d much rather, hide the truth from them.
I’d never doubted the love my mother had for me, but every time, as I’d, wanted to show affection towards her, she’d started, lecturing me, and in the end, she’d added, “Nobody else is going to tell you this, I’m your mother, that was why, for your sake, I’m, telling, you the truth!” in my mother’s mind, I’ll never be, enough, there are, always things, I can, improve, and, all of my good performances are, matter-of-fact, and yet, the imperfections, are what pricked at her, and she’d needed to, get rid of them.
But, my dearest mother, you know what? Your daughter may not be perfect, but, she’d always tried very hard, worked hard, can you just, let go, and trust in me?
And, hopefully, this woman’s mother can see this article, and change the way she interacts with her daughter, but, I’m still, NOT holding MY breath, because parents like these, they think what they’re doing, IS for the good of their young, and they just keep on, doing whatever the F*** (maxed out???) they’re doing, using their same old ways, probably because they were, treated as such by their own parents (‘cuz these sorts of SHITS still gets passed down, from one generation to the next, like D.N.A.???) and this daughter is going to, have a very difficult time, getting closer to her mother that’s for sure…
Mirroring the World 
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