Tears, So, Precious

Let the crying child cry it out completely, then, s/he will find a way, to resolve whatever upset had made her/him cry in the, first place, no need to shut them up!  Translated…

“That’s my precious bracelet, give it BACK!”, in the warm winter afternoons, I’d, gone to walk the tracks, enjoying the hard-to-come-by warmth of, winter, I saw a young girl, lying on the rubber tracks, crying.

The child’s mother and maternal grandmother kept trying to console with her, and yet, she still, cried on.  She’d told and cried, repeated this for many a round, about half an hour later, the ladies who were exercising close by, other than pretending to not care, but paying attention to the three, started, discussing, “she can’t even talk articulately, crying like this!  Get her to quiet down first!”, “Blocking the track here!”, from the sniffles of the young girl, I’d, slowly, piece together what had, happened—after the rollerblading camp was over, the girl discovered that the bracelet she’d made had been lost, broken somewhere on the track, she’d spent a lot of time, and still couldn’t, find it, seeing how the people are, leaving the tracks, the skies are, turning, darker, being upset, the child refused to give up on looking for what she’d, lost, and started crying, to express her, helplessness, her, desperation of not finding the bracelet that was, broken off of her, wrist.

what mothers should do…just be there, as the child cries, there’s nothing that parents need to do, just accompany their young, as they, cry it all, out! Photo from online

Later, the mother of the child, couldn’t withstand the looks of the bystanders that gathered, led the child who was still, sobbing, away from the track, and after that, the mother-daughter pair just, sat on that lawn, most of the time, the mother didn’t say a word to the child, just, sat with her, as the child groomed through her own, emotions, until the night started, rolling in, and the child was no longer, crying, the two patted the grasses off of each other’s body, then, left in, silence.

From as long as I’d remembered, crying was, not allowed in the, adult, world, and, tabooed in the, public places, and yet, this mother showed enormous amount of, understanding, tolerance for her young child, to allow her to express her emotions out, and gave her child the acceptance of her emotions that the child is in need of, patiently waited for her to collect herself, and, a mother’s getting out of the socialized means of the structures of society, to truly, empathize the young child’s, emotions, understand what the child is in need of, and then, give her the care, concern, and guidance, to help the child come to full acceptance of what she’d, lost.

Those who are blessed, are able to use the childhood years, to heal the entire, lifetimes, the child will, learn to groom through the losses that s/he encountered, and sort through the emotions due to the mother’s, understanding of the child; while for me, it was, an important, lesson, in the past, the parts of my own self that got neglected through the years had, somehow, found their, resolves on their, own, I too, was, blessed by, this mother-daughter, pair as well.

So sometimes, as parents, we do NOT need to do anything, just let our children CRY it all, out, but, as adults, we’d, not been socialized that it is, okay to cry, to express our feelings in such a LOUD way (maybe not fully blown like a complete temper tantrum) but we’d all be socialized, that crying IS, bad, and what’s worse, is that the society places such a huge taboo, on this way of expressing our, emotions, I mean, if we don’t cry, how will we, get rid of the salt build up in our systems, I mean, unless you want to suffer from sever Na-K imbalance, which will lead to, more severe health problems, cry from time to time, it’s okay.

It’s still the SOCIETY’s FAULT, I mean, who SAYS that grown men don’t cry?  And, where does it have the words, “CRYING is a BAD thing”, written on some, handbooks or rulebook somewhere, huh???  Crying is, one of the, most, primitive form of expressing our needs, I mean, you CAN’T possibly EXPECT an INFANT to say, HEY yo old ladies, got a DODO in my diaper, it’s giving my baby smooth, silky buttocks a RASH, come and CHANGE my diapers, can you?  Of course, not, so the infants use crying to COMMUNICATE their needs to us, and as we are older, we use crying to EXPRESS our, emotions, and there’s, absolutely, NOTHING wrong with that!

Locking the Memories, in

Losing someone we love, is never easy, especially when it’s due to illness, and the person you loved dearly, had been really watchful of her/his own health, exercised regularly, eaten healthy, taking good care of her/his body, and then, CANCER still, HIT!  But you will, grieve and heal, and grieve, and heal a little, each and every day, until one day, when you think about that person you love so dearly, you don’t feel sad anymore…translated…

I’m afraid, that I might, forget about this one day, that’s why, I’d started, jotting down this, memory.

“When will I get to, leave here?”, “Leave?  You mean away from the hospital and go home?  Sure, certainly, we’d already discussed it with the doctor, these few days, we’ll be, filing for your discharge papers from the hospital, so you can go home to, rest~~~”

“To heaven!”

That was, the final conversation my husband had with, us.  I knew, if it wasn’t that he’d felt, gravely, ill, he who loves us too much, who cherished being alive, will NEVER, have this thought.  That very day, my husband, was, gone.

At the terminal stage of his cancer, I can only imagine, how much pain he must’ve been, in.  In our, hearts too.

Although my husband is very optimistic, and not fought fate at all.  But I’d felt that he was taken from us, way too soon, I’d still asked heavens, to this very day, “what sort of a joke are you, playing on, us all?”

My husband didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, loved exercising, was optimistic, with a great senses of humor, gone to his health checks like clockwork, but he’d, battled it out with his cancer for close to two whole years, then, he’d, died, had he lived for another whole year, he would’ve, made it to his, sixtieth.

Like usual, we’d gone to the E.R., because he wasn’t, feeling, well, we’d hoped, that this time was like all the previous, two, three days’ stay then he would be allowed to, come back home, but this time, he’d, stayed for a whole thirty-six days!  And we’d started, struggling between taking him home to care for him, or keeping him in the hospital to continue his, treatments.  Everybody stated that it’d strained the primary caretaker, but we’d come to know, that the one who’d gotten tried the most, was the, patient himself.

My husband is a good father, amazing husband, and took good care of his body regularly.  So, we had nothing to complain about caring for him.  I sat by the hospital bed, and thought, so long as he’s still with us, even if I have to care for him in the hospital for long period of time, I’d be more than willing, to.

Recalled on the funeral, the announcer stated, “your children are all grown now, this is the time of your better years, and yet, you’d, left………”, and every time I’d recalled this particular passage, my heart would, ache all over, again.

the cycle of grief by Kubler-Ross…found online

My husband retired at age fifty-five, he was already tried by his own blindness.  He’d coexisted with glaucoma for more than twenty years already, although he had two surgeries, his optical nerves never recovered, and finally, it’d, affected his field of vision.  His field of vision started narrowing little by little, in the end, he was diagnosed as severely visually impaired.  I’d already vowed, to take his hand in mind, when he’d needed me, the most, and yet, we were, struck by the lightning of his, cancer diagnosis, and it was, the KING: pancreatic cancer too.  Why are these, two most severe of all conditions, both happened to my, husband?

I can’t see through life and death.

And, the understandings of life and death from a religious angle, don’t help me one bit.

I thought I’d, let go already, and yet, the moment that came next, I’d felt my heart, aching, all over, again, and I can’t control these tears of mine, and I got stuck in this, cycle of, grief.

So many T.V. shows told, after people are gone, they’d become a star high up in the skies.  And so, I’d started, lifting my  head to the night skies, through searching for my husband’s star, to express how much I’d missed him, and hoped, that we can, meet back up again in my, dreams.

So, this is on losing one’s spouse, and it is, too hard, losing someone you’d spent these years of your adult life with, and, you’re still, grieving for his death, which is only, normal, and one day, with the passage of time, hopefully, you will be able to think about him, and, feel no sadness or sorrows, but joys, because of all those years you’d come to share as husband and wife together.

The Seventy-Nine-Year-Old Woman Suspected Her Boyfriend Was Cheating, Committed Arson & Burned Down His Home

Jealous, the former experiences of getting cheated on by her boyfriend, with her own lacking in trust in her own self, all of these combined “factors” turned her into the ARSONIST that she’d become, today, and she DESERVES to get SENT to prison for it too!  Crime and punishment, from the Front Page Sections, translated…

The Day Before They Went to Soak in the Hot Springs Together, the Day Following, the Woman Poured the Gas, Committed Arson, Sentenced to Seven Years Ten Months, More than Twenty Years Before, She’d Also, Commit Arson to Burn the House of Her Boyfriend’s Wife Down

The eighty-one-year-old woman, He two years ago, suspected that her boyfriend, Yo, who is fourteen years her junior was cheating on her, she’d gone to Yo’s house, and committed arson, it’d caused property damages to two of his neighbors; twenty-two years ago, she’d also gone to her then boyfriend’s wife’s home to commit arson, sentenced to five years.  The Taichung District Court found, that after she’d committed arson, He showed no remorse, continued to offend, and sentenced her to a total of seven years ten months on arson charges this time.  This can still be appealed.

The investigators found, that He suspected that his fourteen-year junior boyfriend was seeing another, on the morning of July 18^th, 2022, she bought a keg of gasoline, then rode to Yo’s home, broke in to the storage room, and committed arson using the gas she bought, then left.

The fire not only destroyed the old style mansion home of her then-boyfriend’s, it’d also caused the neighboring two-story building to catch on fire and burned, afterwards the police, the fire department reviewed over the surveillance, and found that before the fire started, He had shown up, and she’d claimed that she was visiting a friend.

like this, except that the fire set in the video was for REVENGE, not out of, jealousy! Off of YouTube

During the trial, He denied the allegations, stated that she and Yo were only close friends, that they weren’t dating, that the container she took from her scooter, was bottled water and not gasoline, that she’d not entered into the property either, that she’s severely physically handicapped herself, and couldn’t have gotten out after she’d set the fire, and didn’t know that there was a fire, that Yo had, framed her.

The fire investigations ruled out the cooking, the incense burning offerings or the cigarettes, appliances caught on fire, and other causes, and set the case as arson, and the video surveillance showed that right before the fire, He went to a gas station, and purchased a bottle of gas, and cased around the place, and she’d entered into the property at 9:32 in the morn, and exited out by 10:38 in the morn, and immediately at 10:42, the smoke came out of the residence.

Yo said he was dating He, that they’d been companions for dating for over a decade, that the day before the fire, they’d gone to a hotspring to soak, but He would often be suspicious that he was seeing another; during the initial police interrogations, she also told the police that Yo made her not trusted him, that she’d felt he’d been, lying to her a lot.

The courts found, that in 2002, He got upset over her then boyfriend cheating on her, and went to the man’s wife, to ask her to catch him cheating on her together, but the wife wasn’t onboard, and that same year, she’d gone to her boyfriend’s wife’s home and committed arson, and she was sentenced to five years back then,

The courts considered, He had been sentenced for arson from before, still refused to learn, and started doubting that her boyfriend’s found a new love, and set the fire to his place, which extended to his neighbor’s properties; and considering how she’d not admitted to what she did, no remorse, hadn’t settled with the victims up to this day, that she was eighty when the crimes occurred, that it’d not fitted to the requirement of her receiving a reduced sentence, sentenced her to seven years ten months, for intentionally committing arson to a residence.

So, because this elderly woman had been cheated on by her ex, she’d become, suspicious of all the men she’d dated, and that suspicion, caused her to fly into a jealous rage, and, caused her to commit arson, and all of this was still because she could NOT trust herself enough, to trust all the men she’d, dated, and she deserve a HARSH sentence, because she had the priors in committing arsons from suspecting that a man was cheating on her from before, and, if she gets out, and started dating again, I’m sure, that the same thing will happen, all over, again.

The Red Bean Pastries in the Coldness of Night

On loss, grieving, losing a loved ones, and how we can only, put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving, until one day, the losses and the sorrows, the grief from what we’d lost, is no longer, that strong anymore, and we can, finally, get through the days, slowly…translated…

Although, It’d Been Said, that We Can’t Compare Mourning, but I’m Still in AWE at the Female Owner’s Persistence, while What Touched Me Deeply, was Her Saying that “Life Goes on, if We Live Our Lives Well, then, the Ones We’d Lost Who are Now in Heaven, Will Feel More at Ease, They Won’t Need to Worry Over Us…”……

It was the year, I’d, lost my old dog and my elderly mom, I’d suddenly, lost the focal point in my life.  Nighttime was the time of day I’d, feared, the, most, as the memories of both my elderly mother and my old dog are in the house, to reduce the time that this creeps up on me, I’d, selected to head out to the local middle school tracks to walk.

In the cold of night, I’d, circled around the track, lap after lap after, lap, nobody will note, that I’m, crying as I’m, walking, along.  When it rained, I couldn’t tell if what’s dripping down from my face was the rain or my own, tears, and I’d, become, a zombie like this for, two whole weeks, just, walking around.

That day, I’d just, left the middle school, passing a roadside stand that sold the red bean pastries.  “Hello, would you like to purchase a pastry?  The fillings are oozing out!”, the mildly hoarse voice was, a bit, familiar to me, I’d focused in, it was, the stand owner with whom I’d usually purchased the foods from, don’t know when she’d moved her business here.

illustration from UDN.com

“I hadn’t seen you in quite a long time, from before, you were always out with your mother and your dog, and, every time your dog got to my stand, it’d, refused to, go farther, and had you purchased three pastries, then, it would, move itself, along………”

I’d smiled and nodded, and, tears came, flowing out.

“oh…I know it, and I’m, so sorry!  That’s how life goes, my son………he’d only gotten into a public university just last year, as he’d begun his university career, and only within six months of his entering into university, he’d died in a car crash……and it was, too difficult, for a single mother as I, to accept this.  My son died, can you imagine my loneliness?  As I’d heard the geckos making their noises on the walls of my home, I’d felt, that I wasn’t, alone anymore, I had a gecko as my, company, although, I’d never actually, seen the gecko.  But, the days will go on, if we’re well here, living on earth, then, the loved ones we lost in heaven, they will, feel, at ease too, and they will, be better off.”

illustration from UDN.com

The woman skillfully, flipped the pastry on the iron baking plate, slowly told, like she was, telling me, a tale of old.

Like I usually had, I’d, bought three pieces.  On my way back home, I’d, thought, that no matter what form of losing our parents it happened, it’s, an enormous feel of pain.  My two parents both died in their elderly age, which fitted to the laws of, nature, and, although I’m in grief, I’d felt, assured.  The woman from the food stand, lost her son, this would be, excruciating to her, and there’s that forced necessity to accept the loss as a fact, with the feelings of unwillingness, of how it could’ve happened, and maybe, hate too.

Although, we can’t, compare the losses we’d endured individually, but I’m still, in awe at the stand owner’s stamina, while, what touched my heart were the words of, “life will go on, if we’re well, then, the ones we’d lost who are now in heaven, will feel at ease, and they would be, well too.”

In the coldness of the night, I took a bite out of the hot red bean pastry, certainly, the fillings, oozed out!  Suddenly, I’d recalled how my mom told me to volunteer at the hospital, I’d decided right then and there, that I shall, make the inquiries in the morn.  Lifting my head to the sky full of stars, it will be, sunny tomorrow for sure.

And so, there’s, no specific time it takes, for a person to grief for the losses of the loved ones, and, the writer lost her mother, and the woman who owned the food stand lost her, son, the people they lost may be different, but, the feelings of losing someone we love, and the heart wrenching pains, the heartaches that comes with the losses, are always, unbearable, but we will, move on, eventually, we just, need to, allow ourselves enough time, to grieve fully and properly over the ones we’d, lost.

Loneliness, Kept, Like a, Cat

Loneliness, kept, like a, cat, you only need to, give it its daily feeds, water source, and a, litter, box, and it takes care of itself.

It doesn’t bother you, doesn’t play with you, doesn’t demand any attention from you.  Loneliness, kept, like a, cat, independent, relying on no one but itself to keep itself, entertained…

like this, locked, inside, that, jar…photo from online

Loneliness, kept, like a, cat, but, it’s still, NOT, feral, for it knows, when it needed you, and will, come and ask you for something that it needed.  Loneliness, kept, like a, cat, it will, go off on its own, gone for days on end, but you can, always, count on, that it will, eventually, return “home” again.

Loneliness, kept, like a, cat, and, you’d kept my loneliness, like that adopted cat, but you still, don’t, OWN it, it OWNS, its own, self!

Loneliness, kept, like a, cat, it will, wander off, and it will, always be, there, but out of sight, existing, in its own, quietness and, silence…………

The Different States of Mind in Illness

How the daughter’s empathy toward her mother in illness like she was, taught the mother an, important, lesson…translated…

A cool day of autumn, also the time when the virus started, spreading, quickly, the members of my family started taking rotations, falling, ill, first, my two sons, with fevers, runny stomach, then it was, my husband fallen ill, my husband told my sons, “don’t pass it to mom, otherwise, the house will, shatter.”  But unfortunately, I still, caught it, with my youngest daughter catching it too, and, other than feeling upset over how I wasn’t, careful enough, there was, nothing I could, do.

like this, they both, caught it…photo from online

That evening, my youngest daughter started, not having, her appetite, then started, vomiting, in the middle of the nights, my stomach started, turning, for the entire night, the lights were flicking on and off in the bathrooms, like, malfunctioned bulbs.  The following day, the two of us were, drowsy in bed, but, the turning of our stomachs, I’d, forced us to get to the clinic to get, treated, we’d, walked like ill old ladies there.

Soon as we entered the house, I’d told my daughter, that if she felt nauseous, she needed to go to the toilets, or find a close by trash can, but, not long thereafter that, she’d, puked on her hug pillow, I’d started, screaming at her, “did you NOT hear my reminders a bit ago?”, thinking of how I needed to clean up after her, I’d, lost control, gotten, hysterical.

At noon, to get the meds in, we’d, put a couple of pieces of toasts in the oven, then, we’d, curled up at the ends of the couch, started calling out in pain, because no position was, comfortable enough, my daughter told, that maybe we should watch T.V. to divert our attention, thinking that this may be, a good, option, I’d, turned on the T.V., and followed the Butt Detective on his, case.  Don’t know if it’s how the body couldn’t keep attention on the dramas, or that the drugs are finally, setting in, before long, we’d started, falling, drowsy and sleepy, we’d, returned back to bed, and become, mush.

From dawn, we’d slept until dusk, such a long sleep, soon as I opened my eyes, I saw my daughter’s, childish, face, and I’d asked if she’d felt a bit, better, she’d said yes, in her sleepiness, I’d told her, that I hoped I can recover in an, instant, but she said, “it’s kinda nice being sick with you mom, we get to, sleep together, like back to before, patting mommy’s back hugging you.”, and I’d, recalled how we got at one another’s throats earlier, I’d, said to her, shamefully, “I’m sorry, I was a bit, mean to you at non.”, she’d responded back, “you weren’t, you fell ill, too.”

Being sick, my daughter and I had different attitudes, I’d, believed, that I was sick, so everybody around me had to, put up with my, upsetting, moods, and, let my anger loose, soaking myself in my own, misery; looking at my daughter, in her own discomfort, she’d, tried to help herself feel better, and, started, finding that childhood moment with me back again, because of her gentleness, that had, helped, dissolved my irrationality.  Lying in the bed that was torturing to me for the entire, night, I’m too grateful, that you fell ill with me, I can’t, fight the viral infections, but, I can, choose to, deal with it, in a, different, mood.

So, that’s the lesson, that the child taught to her, mother, the mother SNAPPED at the daughter, and the daughter showed, an adult understanding to her mother, became the parent in that moment of interactions.

What Right Have YOU, to TELL Me to, Forgive…

What right have YOU, to TELL me to, forgive, it did NOT happen to you, it’d, happened to, me, and nobody backed me up, and I was, all alone!  And now, you tell me, I need to, forgive him, for what he’d done, so we can all get along better, as a, group?  Why should I be the one, SACRIFICED for the harmony of, all of you (it’d now become, me and, them here!!!).

What right have YOU, to TELL me to, forgive, huh???  How would you act, if what happened to me, happened to you?  Oh yeah, you can’t comment on that, because it did NOT happen to you, it’d, happened to, ME!  What right have YOU, to TELL me to, forgive, because the entire group dynamic is not going so well, since that thing’s, happened from, whenever the HELL it’d, happened, is that it?

You got NO right, to TELL me to, forgive, and I don’t forgive, you just, can’t let that sort of SHIT, be forgotten, you can’t, sweep it, underneath that, RUG.

And yeah, so what, maybe (you think???) I’m a bit more, SENSITIVE than the rest, so???  You got, NO right to tell me to, forgive, because I, never, will!

The Time to be Kind to Someone in Need is NOW

How seeing an elderly woman, who can’t afford to purchase the simple meals, made her more empathetic, and driven to help others in need more…translated…

The drizzling rain came again, as work let out, passed by the door of the packed meal shop, I saw the elderly woman who made a living off of collecting the recycling materials wandering, her hunched back gazed toward the whiteboard that had, “No more compassion packed meal boxes today”. She seemed to be caught in a difficult, situation then, placed her hand into her pocket a long, time, as I passed by her, I saw the stacks of cardboard boxes in her shopping cart, covered only with the plastic bags, and, she’s getting them, wet.

I’d, imagined, that the elderly woman didn’t have enough  for a meal box, and that script started, rolling in my, mind then, and I’d thought of, I should, pull the money out, to purchase a packed meal for her?  And the signal for the pedestrian passing turned green then, out of reflex, I’d, propped up my umbrella, and crossed the streets, as I got home, I couldn’t, shake off the image of the elderly woman, wandering outside the door of the cafeteria.

Many days later, my good friend, Wen and I went out for some tea, and she’d told me of how a local woman who picked up after the recycling materials, couldn’t make enough to buy food.  Wen lives in Wanhwa, and, her home is right next to the recycling yard that closed at the start of the year, she’d bumped into the elderly who’d collected the recycling materials often, with the rusted shopping carts that they’d pushed around, in it, the stacks of cardboard boxes, plastic bottles, in exchange for the needed spare change they’re, living off from day, to day.  Wen told me, “one kilogram of materials only gets them three, to five measly, dollars.  One meal costs twenty to thirty recycled materials; it’s quite difficult to imagine, that in this time of economic affluence, people are living like this, but this, is what I encounter day to day.”

“Last Day of Operations will be December 25^th, thank you for all of your, support!”, that was the large black in bold letters on a pink poster said, posted in front of the bulletin board outside of the steel-roofed shack of the recycling yard, this was, thunder and lightning to those who picked up the scrap metals, the recycling materials to make their ends, meet.

Wen then used her cell phone, found the newspaper article for me to read, “the owner of the junk yard couldn’t do a thing, he kept on getting reported, he’d gone all over the places, to try to keep these individuals who are having in hard, to have their livelihoods provided for them, but, no one was willing, to, stand with them, look at how cold and cruel this world, became”.  Wen’s words, hit my heart really hard.  “on every cart, there’s just not the weightiness of the junk, but all of their, stories, the hardship of, their, lives, too.”

Is it, a coincidence?  That I keep on seeing the elderly woman in front of the cafeteria, kept, recalling the tale of the aunty, and I’d, regretted, not lending them a helping hand at the time.  “What they longed for, was never a whole lot, but only the most basic, stability of life.”  Who would be willing, to wander the streets, to walk around hungry at their, age?  I shall, take this lesson I learned today, and start, exercising my ability to lend a helping hand, a packed meal box is something small, but it’s, huge enough, to warm up someone’s, heart.  Starting with my self, I shall, pass the acts of kindness, all around me.

And so, these are the lesser, who are, living, below the poverty lines, that we usually don’t give a second look to when we pass them by, but, think about it, WHO, in their right states of mind, would want to, live like this, especially in one’s own, elderly years, and, all that’s needed, is something tiny, a few dollars of foods that we can give to those in need, from the local food shops.  But do we stop, and pay attention to these people, who live, below the poverty lines?  Of course N-O-T, as we all got, too much on our, minds.

Like a Cyclone…

Like a cyclone, Dorothy, touched DOWN, and the storms, it’d, MURDERED (as it was intentional, NOT “manslaughter”…), the Wicked Witch of the West.

Like a cyclone, she’d, allowed her anger toward everything that’s happened from all those years before, take her, over, until things of her past, totally, completely, consumed her, and she’d, raged, like a cyclone that’s, rolled down onto the plains, destroying EVERYTHING in her path, including everything she once, loved.

what those story told us it looked like…photo from online

Like a cyclone, Dorothy finally, unleashed her angers from years of abandonment, getting left behind by her own parents, although, it wasn’t her parents’ fault that they had, died (they died, right???), and it wasn’t that her Aunty Em and her Uncle Henry didn’t love her like she was, their, own, but, being, orphaned at such an early age, had to be, hard, and all the angers from her parents’ dying, all came up.

So, like a cyclone, Dorothy spun, out of control, DESTROYED the Emerald City, a place where her old dreams were, kept…

Like a cyclone, everything started to, unravel, piece by piece, everything got, carried, higher, higher, higher and higher up, until, the earth became, so tiny, and everything on it, became, non-existent!

and this, is the, reality of that touchdown! Photo from online

Like a cyclone, Dorothy turned, churned, and cut across the wheat field, the steel mill, and across that circus, and KILLED, all of her, traveling companions as she is to venture into the Land of the Oz.  And she had, NO one left, not even, Toto, for he’d, ducked to, god-knows-where, out of, Dorothy’s anger’s, way, not to be found, again…

Alley 94 After You’d Been, Gone

Losing a friend, trying to, move on, knowing, that she’s no longer here, but you still, are, dealing with the loss of someone you cared about, who’d, died…translated…

I’d, lowered my head, walked into, that alley we’d, gone in often, a rat made its way into the wooden floor board of that cheap couture shop, and I’d, lived like so.  Not you thought, you’d loved to fly, like those words of laughter we’d exchanged, of the Broadcasting Station Museum in Taichung, you would use your tired eyes, your thinned down arms due to the medication, waving them, telling me, you wanted to, fly.

in flight, to escape the pains of life…photo from online

And so, you, had, to this day, I still, don’t DARE, pass through that building.  “Ahhhhh, did we NOT close the balcony?  How come………”, as I’d passed by there, I’d heard the teacher from the cram school in the building stated.  How distant is a turn of the head?  The cram school at the front of the alley had that wet smell of the foods out of the delivered meals, the roaches, stealthily crawled into the leftover bins, stepped on the statins of the multitude of garbage left over from the food court, the soles of my shoes became sticky, but I knew, that this will all, pass soon, when I made it onto the sky bridge, the bus station, everything will be, okay then.

Yeah, everything shall, pass.  Just like how when you were still on earth, all those words that the adults told you, they waved the banners of your bright future, your grade reports; but, the tears that fell from your eyes, as you’d, leaned in on my shoulders, oh, they hurt me, so, very, bad, they’d not, faded, as I’d, walked out of, that tiny, alley.

But, I’d finally, gotten, out and away, the younger girls wore those new clothes, with the price tags still on, looked, a bit, funny, “I loved the smell of the new clothes, this is the one and only time of youth we will, ever, get”.  She’d turned to explain to the friends she was, with, I’d, smiled on that, where was that youth that wanted to take flight in us?  I still, don’t dare turn my head, I’d still, crawled on, just like, that dirty rat.

And so, this is, on the moving on after you’d lost someone, to suicide, and, you’d, avoided the place you two had made the memories in, in fear, that it will, remind you too much of that other person, and yet, there’s, nothing you can do, the person is already gone, and you’re, still, here, and so, you put one foot in front of the other, and just, keep on, moving, onward.