Category Archives: Story-Telling

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

The Ambassador of Peace on LINE

Trying to keep the peace, when members in your group are at each other’s throats, when they get on each other’s nerves, what can you do?  Try to mediate, in a round-and-about sort of a way, so you don’t end up, as the common enemies, but it’s, not that easy!  Translated…

My daughter-in-law one day, chimed excitedly, to the Family LINE group, how there’s, a night market close to her home, and the photo she’d sent to the group was a street, lit up with the lights during the nights, with a world of fried food stands, the arcades, I’d immediately replied back, “be careful as you don’t know the quality of oils the owners used to fry the foods, and the kids shouldn’t be allowed to play those arcades, as they may be easily addicted to these games…………”

As soon as I’d typed all of that, my daughter who’s away on another continent immediately added on, “it’s fine that you go and take that stroll every now and then.”  I was shocked, I’d, immediately recycled my message back.  Thinking about this calmly, if someone rained on my parade, it naturally would, make me feel, awful, and it wouldn’t matter if the words that someone was saying to me was right!  I’d, contemplated, and felt grateful for my daughter’s round-and-about-way of reminding me, so I slammed on the brakes before damages are done.

My friend was once the head of a certain club, he’d shared things on LINE quite a lot.  He’d told, that often, as a subject of discussion was opened for debate, some of the group had started, firing those cannons, some, quite stubborn, to one’s own beliefs, some swayed with how the winds were blowing, some agreed to others’ words, and the words were sharpened, ready for war.  The most often was the fight for the parties in the politics, some debated on the policies, some toward the incumbents, and, it’d, made it difficult, for my friend, who wanted to try and mediate between those who are then, engaged, and, he’d, spoken of his “New Year’s Resolution” aloud via LINE.

He’d said, “from here on out, no talks of politics, no personal attacks.  When we have a difference of opinions, DO delete those emotional words, to keep the conversation flowing smoothly, rationally”, and, for the six months that followed, there’s, more harmony within the group of LINE.

getting into an argument on LINE

illustration found online

With the inventions of the high-tech gadgets, it’d, made people leap into an alternative world, the parents are, disregarding the needs of their children more now, and the problems between the couples, the parents and children, worsened, as our heads, lowered to our high-tech gadgets these days.

But, think on it, it’s not the gadgets that are awful, it’s the mindsets of the users, and the timing.  If one can use the gadgets, and not let these high-tech devices control us, then, we won’t become, slaves.  Like how those who’d retired who don’t live with their children, sliding on their tablets or cell phones, sending the messages, their emotions found a viable outlet, and they’re, able to get some news and new information from everywhere around.  Sometimes, they’re even, having a webcam conference with the children and grandchildren who don’t live close by, the comfort from interaction with one’s own loved ones, although they’re, separated physically, but they’d become, more than, connected psychologically.  To the point when there’s an emergency, the high-tech devices are, very good for sounding off the alarms.

illustration from UDN.com

圖/Tai Pera

My friend’s older sister-in-law didn’t get along with her parents, although one live up north, the other, south, they’d still gotten on each other’s bad side over miniscule matters, and, as the two sides were getting heated on the group on LINE, she’d, privately texted her youngest nephew, told him to commend his mother on her cooing, how he’s, looked after so well, so the grandparents who lived faraway, in the southern parts of the island know, that they have a good daughter-in-law.  And, other than posting the messages on how to live well, my friend told her older sister-in-law that her parents had, commended her in their circles of friends, how they’re, so proud of her.  And naturally, the problems between this mother and daughter-in-law pair, slowly, resolved on their own.

Working hard, being the middleman of peace, at first, you may feel, tried, because you couldn’t make the results of the changes you want to see happen faster, but, after awhile, the results will, show.  The communications apps are of various sorts and kinds, with the members numerous, and, it certainly isn’t by chance, that we’d, found each other, in the vastness of the ocean-full of people.  If you can cherish this affinity, and, work hard, as a connector in every group you’re involved in, keeping the peace, for everybody’s sake, as you turn on the apps, it can only bring you joys in the days.

This is on, being, THE middleman, and, this woman has some valid points, but, I don’t, necessarily agree with her on everything.  I mean, it’s important, that you want to keep the peaceful flow of conversations on your LINE accounts, sure, but sometimes, you just, can’t ignore how someone’s words made you flare up, and, if you don’t find a valid way to get the angers you feel out, then, it will surely, damage you, and not just your relationship with that other person.  And yeah, a middleman who will help, diffuse this, lit up bomb, may be necessary in these cases, but not always.

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Filed under Awareness, Being Exposed, Cause & Effect, Choices, Communications, Connections, Interactions Shared with the World, Messed Up Values, Observations, Properties of Life, Socialization, Story-Telling, Technologies, The Observer Effect, Translated Work, Values, Vicious Cycle

The Night, Withering, Away

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.

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Filed under Being Exposed, Betrayals, Broken Promises, Excuses, Infidelities/Being Unfaithful, Issues of Morality, Life, Moods, Emotions, & Feelings, Properties of Life, Story-Telling, Vicious Cycle

An Ordinary Story, with Extraordinary Love

A story, that warms up the human hearts, what we’re, in need of more, especially, today, from the Front Page Sections, translated…

I saw a heartwarming report on the papers: this February, there was, a pitbull that seemed to have been abused by humans started wandering around the mountains, and got noticed by the hikers, and was named, “Flower” by the flowers.  His story got passed among the hikers, and everybody hoped that he could be, lifted off the mountains, and receive the care and attention he’d, needed.  The mountain worker, Yong-Hong Chang (Hong) started looking after him when he’d gone up the mountains, helping the dog to reestablish the trust, and, had tried to bring him down many times.  But maybe, it’s the bad experiences Flower had from human interactions from before, she’d, always, run off scared, as she got close to the entrance of the hiking trails.  At the start of July, the hikers all worked hand-in-hand, and, Hong and his friend, started up, this rescue mission.  And after sixty whole hours, they finally got Flower, to follow them to the entrance of the hiking trails.  And this time, Hong ignored the pains from his fractured wrist, and, carried Flower, who was close to twenty kilograms onto the car—and, without a leash, or any sedation—he finally, led Flower, out of that patch of mountainous woods she was, once lost in, took her down the mountains, to get her the treatments and care she needed to get.

In all of the millions of news headlines that flashed across our eyes daily, this tiny little article, it’d, caught the writer’s heart.  As I read this story, that surge of warmth flowed through me.

查看來源圖片the kindness toward animals, photo from online

I used to have a dog, Happy, who was with me for twelve whole years, he was a black lab, grinning ear to ear always.  The interactions of man and dog, transpire between words, and, I’d had the depth of experiences, and understood, how it felt for the animals who were, abused by humans in their lives, how hard it would be, to regain that lost trust in human again.  And because of this, as the paper described how the man, Hong lost track of Flower, he’d started calling aloud, “Flower, Flower”, then, a black shadow came dashing out of the forest, run toward him, and all I can say, is such a heartwarming scene that was.

There’s, this, extraordinary surge of energy in the midst of the mountains.  Not just between the man, Hong, who’d, rescued Flower; from how the hikers shared the stories on social media, to how they mapped out the rescue routes, how they contacted the wildlife reserves locally, to taking the dog to the vet, to placing her……it’s, everybody who’d, chipped in, making this deed possible!  The thought of “hoping he’ll be happy and healthy” became the primary force, which made this heartwarming, deed, with some levels of difficulty, possible.

I’d heard a story: on the beach after a certain typhoon came and went, a young girl started, picking up the starfish, and throwing them back into the oceans.  An elderly man who’d, been through the ups and downs of life asked her, “Child, what would be the purpose of doing this?  Toward this beach full of starfish, you’re, only, able to make a difference to the limited few?”, the child opened up her eyes wide, “Thank you sir, I don’t have the answer to that, I just know, that for the starfishes I’d tossed back into the oceans, their lives are, saved.”, the words of this young girl, showed the power of a greater sort of love.  The story of Hong and Flower, it’d, made me see the extraordinary love, from a story, quite ordinary.

a video of how a dog waits, at the same spot, to be, rescued by humans, off of YouTube

In 2020, MERS-CoV had, taken over the world, and, it’s even worse, for those who are, living hard, plus the natural disasters, the bad policies from the lawmakers, how people are currently being, taken advantage of daily.  In this upsetting moment, allow the story of “Hong and Flower”, to warm all our hearts.  And you and I can think on, how do we within our own means, show those around us the love, and care we have to show.

And so, this, is exactly, the kind of stories that there’s more of a need for right now, because, there’s, a ton of bad things going on in the world right now, the world’s, going up in flames, murders, natural disasters, made worse by manmade errors, etc., etc., etc., and we are, in desperate need for these sorts of tiny little stories, that warms our hearts.

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, News Stories, Observations, Perspectives, Social Awareness, Stories of Hope, Story-Telling, Values

The Costlessness of Her Concerns

Showing that smallest amount of care and concern, to those around you, it just might, brighten their days, a whole lot, and you made yourselves, a new friend too!  Translated…

Remember when I’d first started working in the office, I felt tried, by the elderly woman who cleaned up the restrooms—she’d always, set foot into the slots the moment everybody stepped outside to check, if we weren’t, careful enough, then she’d, started, nagging at us.  And, because of how she took cleaning up the toilets so seriously, it’d made us, feel stressed when we go, we’d rather, go to an alternative floor for the restrooms, than to, bump into her.  And because, we’re all, very busy at work, that nobody ever stopped, to chat with the elderly woman who cleaned up the toilets, at first, when I’d started working, I’d wanted to, catch up to the fast-paced work environment, I’d, often, said the general greetings to her, then, rushed off too.

Later on, I’d discovered, that the elderly woman, other than keeping to her job, of, keeping the toilets clean, she’d sat down on that one chair outside the toilets, slid on her cell phone, to chase the soaps, or using the video-voice messaging, to talk to her young who doesn’t live close to her, and, on this, fast-paced, floor, she’d become, an odd sort of, a freezeframe.

Several short conversations I’d held with her, I’d become, acquainted with her, she’d treated me like a granddaughter too, shown me care and concerns, even showed me, how to wash my hands completely, before I leave the restrooms, without knowing, that I was, awarded, the champion of hand washing in my preschool years.  And I’d known, that her children and grandchildren had, immigrated to Germany a long time ago, that in her eighties, she lives alone, and there were, hints of, loneliness and loss, in her words.

After the lunch break that day, I brought two drinks back.  And, as I’d, handed one to her, she’d become confused and asked, “Why are you treating me to this?  I’d never, given you, anything!”, I’d smiled and replied, “it’s not necessary!  Grandma works very hard, I hope this drink will, keep you energetic and your spirits up for the rest of the day!” then, I saw that flower, bloomed, radiantly, on her face.

Think on it, the elderly woman, never actually, given anything physical to me, but, that sort of concern and care she’d, shown my daily, was way more precious, than any sort of materials.

And so, this, is how we can learn to, interact with one another more, but we often got trapped up too much in our selves, had all our heads, UP our own, separate asses, to ever realize, that someone else close by is feeling bad, loss, or whatever, and, because we failed, to notice that these individuals we come across from day to day are in need, we missed, the opportunities, to show our cares and concerns, and, lose the chances of, making that, important connection, and that’s, just, very sad, wouldn’t you say???

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Awareness, Cause & Effect, Connections, Kindness Shown, Lessons, Life, Observations, Old Age, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Story-Telling, Values

Why Had She, Married Me

I wonder, W-H-Y, is that, huh???  Translated…

MERS-CoV had, affected my moods.  But actually, it doesn’t matter where we all go on our family vacation, it’s dangerous all around.  Just like, for my dearly beloved wife and I, being married over twenty years, still very much in love, and this trip to Japan, we’d had, our equal shares of fights with each other.  We’d argued on the bigger matters of, should we wear those masks or not.  Which way to go, what to have for our suppers, just not that, it’s too pricey, and, as she’d gone into the shops, she’d always stated, “I’ll only be a minute!”

And, “how many articles of clothing we should bring for the kids?” this long debated over topic for instance.  My “he’s dressed too warm already, he’s turning eighteen soon”, and I still couldn’t win from, “Then, if he gets a fever and it’ll be your fault if we aren’t allowed on the flights tomorrow then!”  and I can, only use the advantage of how later on that day, as my wife shopped around, sweating all over, as if there are, nine suns shining inside the malls, asking my son in front of her, “Are you, cold?”, this sort of, a prickly language.  And my youngest was compliant, stated, “wow, you’re right dad, it’s, super, duper cold!”, and, his mother rolled her eyes, all the way around her head several times.

There are, still a ton of, repeated events, that occurred, outside of or within, our, awareness.  Like the heating packs.  I’d later discovered, that my child’s mother, took the ten packs that she went to Hokkaido with, when it wasn’t, that cold, packed it all back in, to the luggage to Kyoto again.  She’d, brought it along, like, a security blanket, whether it’s, actually, cold or not.

Just like, how we’d wanted something brand new on these trips, we’d wanted to, connected these streets and shops inside of, our memories, and finally, we’d, trekked through all the specialty stores of Kyoto in, three years, then, at four, we’d, bumped into a shop that’s, about to close for the day, to finally, sit ourselves down, for lunch.  As I sorted through the menu, ordered the foods, I feel my legs’ numbness, go all the way, into my brains.  My youngest son stated, “Mommy, you look like you’re, about, to cry from walking so long.’, a joke or sorts, and, it’d, accidentally, twisted open ALL the faucets available there in Kyoto.  His mother’s tears came overflowing outward.  And, my youngest and I stared at each other, felt like, it must’ve been, something that each other had done, to cause, all of this.

“Before the temple awhile ago, at Kiyomizu Buddhist Temple, I’d called out to you both, to take those masks off for the pictures,” she’d, sniffled and continued, “and, I’d called you two as our two sons…………”, then, she’d, finally, melted down.  Yeah, surely, this was, the very first trip we’d, taken, without, our, eldest son.

Just like, we needed a place to travel to, to help everybody get past something, through that long underpass shopping strip, to the train station in Osaka, we’d bumped into a kind girl, who’d, helped me wife load up on her bus pass.  As we’d found that the young woman was, also from Taiwan, my dearly beloved wife started, casting aside all of our, itineraries, and started that conversation with that young lady, and found she was here, for a work-vacation.  Then, she’d started, showing her cares and concerns of how the young woman’s mask wasn’t, thick enough, like it was, lined with, only, a thin piece of, gauze or something.  The young woman told her that she’d run all over the pharmacies, but, all the masks were, out.  Then, my dearly beloved wife suddenly, pulled out the medical-grade mask she’d prepared for this trip, a pack of FIVE!, placed it in the young woman’s hand.  After pushing it back repeatedly, this young woman finally, took it, this gift that’s, not bought or sold, along with the kindness, from a complete, stranger.

This made my goosebumps surfaced, and I’d, felt, mildly, proud of my wife too.  She’s, quite compassionate.  Just like, my losers friend told me, that’s why, she’d, married me.

And all of that led to your, final conclusion of, “that’s why she’d, married you!”, it’s because of how kind, how sympathetic, how empathetic your wife is in nature, that she’d, married you, and, you should be, blessed, to find a wife who’s, kindhearted like that too!

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Filed under Awareness, Because of Love, Expectations, Life, Marriages, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Romance, Story-Telling, Translated Work, Values

The Lies of the Ninth

The memories of trauma, suppressed, because the individual, was way too young, and, something DID happen, maybe, just not the version of the story that this person had told, to her/his, adult counterparts, translated…

There was something that happened when I was younger, that impacted me, something that’s, a part of, my chaotic memories…

At nine, my mother wanted me to test into the GT classes of an all-star elementary school, that’s, farther away from where I used to live, I’d gotten in, and, she’d, transferred me there.

On the first day of school, as I arrived home, I’d told her, that I was, almost, abducted by a bad guy, there was, a woman in a covered up motorcycle helmet that told me she’d brought the lunches for my mother to me.  I’d told my mother: back then, I was playing outside the gates of my school, and the woman asked me to go with her, I’d felt that something wasn’t quite right, because mom wouldn’t do that, and I’d, run scared, back to the school.  But, I wasn’t, acquainted with my new school yet, it took me, a long time, to finally, get back into my class.

As I’d told, I’d, started crying scared.  My mother was shocked, the very next day, she’d, called up the school, as well as the Department of Education to, we’d, almost gotten the case on the press; within a week’s time I was, transferred, back to my former school again.

But actually, this, was a story I’d, made up.

illustration from UDN.com圖/豆寶

There were, two primary motives of me lying: to find a justifiable reason for me heading into school ate, and find a way to go back to my former school, that’s not based off of “I don’t want to go to my new school”.

Two years ago, with my deep-rooted guilt, I’d, told my parents this truth, admitted that I was, lying to them from back when in the family therapist’s office, and I’d, made up the stories, from an illustrated book my parents bought for me, “I Have a Way”, and, the details of what the woman whom I’d told had, tried to take me away, came from the illustration of a person in a helmet, trying, to take a child away in the pages.

Because my story was, fully-thought out, without any flaws, to the point, that my parents, as well as the staff members of the school all thought it was, true, for almost, twenty years.

Do children who read, really behave themselves?  The knowledge I’d gained from reading, taught me how to commit a crime.

And yet, up to recently, I’d felt, chaotic of this memory.

There was a part of me that felt, that might there have been, something that’s, happened to me, even though it may not have been, the version of the stories I’d told?  How else, would I come up with, the specific details, including what the woman sounded like, what she was dressed in, what her scooter looked like…………

The me at nine years old, I’d, watched the scenes, played on in my mind, as I’d, “retold” my mother what had, happened (and if I remembered correctly, the highest scoring section of my G.T. exams was in the “thinking skills in space and images”).  And, I’d, started crying like there was, no tomorrow, to the point I was, trembling hard, if I were lying, then, how come I had, such physiological response?  Could it be, that I’d, fooled myself into believing?  Or, had there actually, been something that’s, too awful, too shocked, for the me at age nine to accept?  So I’d, forgotten, and, altered this memory of mine, to make it, fictitious?

Several years ago, I’d gone to a hypnosis therapy session, to deal with the problem of ‘feeling a ton of pain, but I can’t cry”.  This was, completely opposite to the me at nine, who’d, “made up a story, that’s, false, and cried like it actually, happened.”

And yet, at the physical classes, I’d shown, the “reflexive response outbursts” in crying, as the coach helped me to relax my diaphragm, I’d, started, wailing hard, it was, a sort of cry, from the depth of my body.

The coach told me, that the diaphragm is a place where, “unresolved emotions are, stored”, so, there may be, some sort of, very deep trauma from long ago, that’s still, not yet, entered, into my consciousness, stayed still inside of my body.

I’d instinctively felt, that in the lies I’d told when I was nine, there might have been something, that’s made me stuck, as a twenty-nine year-old, grown up right now.

So, something definitely happened to you, because of the physiological response of your body, and this sort of a response only comes, when the body had, experienced, something that’, extremely, traumatic, so, maybe something HAD, happened to you at age nine, just not as you’d, remembered it, being almost abducted by a stranger, maybe, it was, something else, that’s, more serious, because the body, it, NEVER lies, and it’s, up to this individual, to dig even deeper, if s/he can, to find out exactly, what had, happened to her/him in his childhood years, and resolve what happened to her/him, piece, by piece.  And, until this person resolved everything, s/he will, always, have that thing that’s, blocking her/his path, from reaching her/his, full potential.

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Filed under Awareness, Being Exposed, Betrayals, Getting Exposed Too Young, Growing Up Too Fast, Innocence Lost, Life, Loss, Mental Health Issues, Perspectives, Story-Telling, Suppressed Memories

Plucking These Numbers

The philosophies, from an everyday, encounter, translated…

“If you stand beneath the fig tree, I’ll, see you.”

“If you see me, then, I shall, go with god.”

“Do you believe?”

“I absolutely, DO, and I absolutely, DON’T, either way, I shall have my, freedom.”

“There are too many places that squirrels buried those nuts, and the worst case scenario, if a squirrel forgets, then, a walnut tree will start growing from the ground up.”

“I shall go with God to the walnut tree.”

“How can you believe what I say?”

“Because you’re, smiling.”

“I’m not smiling, I’m, a flower.”

And so, this, is how easily, you can, be fooled, into believe something that someone claims, because you lacked that strong sense of your selves…you start following that “leader”, with the blindfolds on!

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Filed under Fate, Lessons, Life, Philosophies of Life, Story-Telling, Writing

The Season of the Frost

As death, slowly, takes over, the living, translated…

The afternoon sun came in, from the southwest side, the light that weren’t, blocked out, by the house next door, slanted down, lazily, imprinted itself, onto the patio, reflecting the rhombus pattern of the screen door, her black cat, Charcoal lay, on that patch of sun that’s, on the ground, it seemed, that he was, unwilling, to leave that spot.

As she stared, at this frame, there came, the eyes of that elderly woman, the elderly face was, so thin, with the deepening of the wrinkles on her face, her skin, dark in complexion, very thin in its, layer, with one eye, slanted, and the eye that stared at people, it’d, looked, extremely, delicate, with the corner lifted upward.  Maybe, back when the elderly was a younger woman, she was, beautiful, it’s just, that the year drifted too far away from her now, and, she’s not related to her, and so, she can, only, make her own guesses on her.

what that, looked, like…查看來源圖片photo found online

She’s, a caretaker, taking the shifts from the night previous.  The elderly woman is close to eighty years of age, not even forty kilograms in weight, quite weak in physique, and even so, she’d still, insisted on, taking herself to the bathrooms.  She’d, taken into considerations her stature, and wanted to allow the elderly to have what’s left of her own, dignity, she’d, allowed the elderly, to lean on her, and took her to the bathroom, and, as the night got deeper, she’d, made the trips, many more times.  The elderly always, sat on the toilet a long time, and, as she helped her back into bed, she could hear the elderly pant like a dog.  As the nurse saw, she’d, grilled her, to NOT help her go to the bathrooms again, that she could just, let the elderly go in her diapers.  Later she’d, taken care of the diapers’ worth of brownish, sticky material.  As the families learned of this, they’d told, that in these recent ten days, the woman lacked an appetite, and didn’t eat anything when they took her home, only had the liquid nutritional drinks, how can she expel so much waste.  As she heard, her heart went colder, and reminded the families in a round and about way, that they need to be, prepared.  What she couldn’t tell them was, please, take your mother home with you, so the high tech devices, don’t drag her life out for longer than it should’ve, lasted.

As the elderly woman was lying there, she’d, used her delicate eyes, asked, “Miss, can you please give me some medications, that I can take, and just, die.”  Then, “I’m going to find my dad now.” And from time to time, she’d, hung her head down low, held tight to her tiny achy frame, mumbled on, “I’m going to die”.

As the day broke, the families came by, the elderly started grilling them, “are you, leaving me here, to die?”, her children were about fifty or sixty years of age, looked honest enough, but without a clue, and, as they’d heard their mother’s questions, they’d, seemed, helpless, rebutted, “We sent you here to get better, how can we leave you here, to die?”  the nurse told the families to go outside, she’d watched the loved ones, nodded away like bobbleheads, they started, writing something down on a sheet of paper that the nurses handed them.

this, is what the end, might, look like…查看來源圖片photo from online

At around noon, the medical staff, suddenly, gathered around in the room.  The families, as well as she, were, ushered outside.  In a panic, the elderly had, multiple tubes going in and out of her body: the trachea, the feeding tubes through the nose, connected to the stomach, the catheter, the drips, with some tranquilizer, the elderly lost consciousness, with the oxygen mask over her face, the assortments of drips on the poles, then, the entire bed, got wheeled off, into the I.C.U.

She received a day’s worth of nurse’s pays, dragged out her luggage, walked, on the golden sun rays of the season of the frost, as the golden sunshine was about, to get off the clock.

As she arrived home, there were the cats, and no humans around, her kids had all grown up and left home, her husband no longer alive.  She’d put a kettle on, gone to pick the two sticks of chamomiles out in her yard, on lemon grass, three leaves of mint, made it, into a cup of, lightly, sweetened, light green solution.  As she’d, found her calm again, she’d recalled, a patient she couldn’t, let go of as she was being trained as a caretaker, it was, also, an elderly of eighty or ninety years of age, she’d helped turned him over in the bed, and, as she’d touched his body, she’d found, that the man was, so stiffened up, that he’d, looked like a curled up shrimp, most of the patients she worked for, as she’d helped them flip over, would sigh, and yelp, but this elderly man, is a dead body, with just, one breath left inside of him, like a cookie, she’d turned him, left, and then, right, no response, there’s, no changes in the lines on his body, or posture, he’d, stuck on the hospital bed, and it’s, actually, abandonment, in the name, of terminal care, how long had it been, since someone, helped moved his muscles?  Otherwise, how could he be, so stiff?  And yet, the people around him, they’re sliding on their cell phones, eating their meals, and just, busying themselves, around, and about.

The sun had, retracted, to a corner on the lanai now, the rhombus shaped pattern now, gone, Charcoal hopped, into her lap.  She’d, patted that body of color, Charcoal started, purring at her.  The elderly with the corners of the eyes lifting upward, your wings of youth had already been, put up, stored away, inside, that long hallway of time, without all those, tubes to keep you alive, hmmmmmmmmm, it’s, hard to, say.————She took a small sip of the light scent, then asked Charcoal who’s in her lap, “the season of the frosts has arrived, do you know that?  And the days, go fast one by one, vanished, do you know, what a, good spot you were lying in awhile ago!”

And so, for this woman, in her line of work, she’d, seen it all, because she took care of the terminal patients, who are, on the verge of dying, and in taking care of these elderly, she’d, seen everything, from how the bodies are, no longer, capable of sustaining life on their own, of how the only thing that’s, keeping these bodies alive, are the machines, and tubes in the arms, connecting to the machines, and how the families refused, to let go of their elderly parents, and just, keep on, making them suffer even longer!

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Filed under "Professional" Opinions, Awareness, Cost of Living, Expectations, Lessons, Letting Go, Life, Observations, Old Age, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Right to Die, Story-Telling, the Finality of Life, Things Left Behind

Sir, I Want Some Baked Goods that Are, Imperfect

The acts of kindness, initiated by the owner of the bakery, and it warms everybody who knows the details of what’s going on, translated…

Yesterday, as I was at the bakery selecting my breads, suddenly, a boy of about ten ran into the shop in a hurry, started hollering to the owner, “Sir, give me some imperfectly baked breads!”, the owner of around sixty years of age squinted his eyes, smiled and replied, “okay!”, then, I saw the child used the clasps, picked up a few breads, the owner bagged the items for him, and only took one small coin from his hand, then, handed him the goods, and told him, to walk carefully, and, the owner smiled, as he saw the young boy off.

Those of us, customers who saw this scene, we’d, all looked at each other, and smiled, while the owner of the shop told, with a heavy note, that the boy’s name is, “Lucky”, he was, a prematurely born child, back then, his mother gave birth to him out of wedlock, and couldn’t tell who the father was, in the end, she had to, leave the family, abandoning her own son, and for many years, nobody’s, heard from her, for several years, the boy was, left to raised by his grandmother who’d, lost her husband.  She’d hoped that he would be, blessed, thus, she’d, named him, “Lucky”, but because she’s elderly, without abilities to work, she could, only make the amount from recycling the materials, they lived on, very, poor.  “Thankfully, although Lucky may be, developmentally delayed, but his physical growth was, normal, he’d, helped his grandmother out without being asked regularly.”

a batch like this???查看來源圖片sold, at a, discounted price here!  Photo found online

The owner told, that since he learned of Lucky’s story, when he’d come to buy the breads, he’d, symbolically, accepted a coin from him, as payment.  But, one time, his grandmother took him in, pointed to the bread, then inquired to the owner, that did Lucky steal the breads?  If not, how come, all the money she’d, given to him were, still there?  The owner replied, “Lucky is a good kid, he did NOT steal anything, he’d bought the ‘breads not baked perfectly’, so that’s why, I gave it to him, at, a discounted price!”, as the grandmother heard, she’d, felt relieved, and continually, thanked the owner for his, kind heart.

As I’d heard the owner of the bakery told the story, a surge of warmth rushed up.  Think about it, Lucky is, exactly like his grandmother hoped he’d become, a kid blessed, otherwise, how would he have, met up with the kindhearted, bakery owner?

And so, this, is one of these tiny tales that warms up the heart of those who heard, read, and knew it, and, the owner of the bakery saw that this young man was in need, and, started giving him the help, because he knew, that he and his grandmother, are living on so little, and this story warmed up the hearts of others, it gives us hope, to see, that there are, still, smallest amounts of kindness, happening, all around us.

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Expectations, Helping Behaviors, Kindness Shown, Lending a Helping Hand, Life, Observations, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Stories of Hope, Story-Telling, Values