Category Archives: the Finality of Life

My Father-in-Law’s Final Wishes, Finally, Fulfilled

Fulfilling a dream of his late father-in-law, translated…

My father-in-law had always been an enigma to me, he’d never told us anything about his past, we only knew, that he was from a well-rounded family in Shaoxing, Zhejiang, and started working as a sailor when he was only eighteen, nineteen years of age, and followed that merchant ship to Taiwan at age twenty, and, never went back home again.

He had kept the diaries for long, but, never allowed us to read them, he’d told, “I’m not writing a diary, just whatever that came to my mind, I’d jotted it down, if you’re interested about my past, then, you can read it, after I’m a hundred.”  After he’d passed, as I’d helped sorted through his belongings, I’d, read through the more than twenty volumes of diaries my late father-in-law had, kept, mostly were the nitty-gritty of goings on in life, but, there was this, light blue notebook, on the first page, it’d had the historical pickle farm in his ancestral home in Shaoxing, with the names of all of his siblings, and he’d told of how his life in Taiwan wasn’t what he’d expected it to be, but, he’d refused to go back, due to how tough he was.

a notebook like this…

with everything about his past written down on record by him, for his offspring to find…

Because there’s no record of which pickle farm, we’d searched online, and found there were, several, but, there’s only one farm with the owners being, Chen, “the Chien-Yu Pickle Farm”, and, at its prime, it was, the historical pickle farm in all of China.  At that very moment, I’d, written to the Shaoxing Province connection here in Taiwan, hoped that they can help us find my father-in-law’s ancestral home, at the same time, if there are still living relatives of his there.  Not long thereafter, the letter from the Chinese local governments told us, that my father-in-law’s eldest brother is still alive, but he’s in a vegetative state, bedridden through the ages, and there were, five cousins, and his youngest aunt who’s still living.

At the end of 2011,my wife and I accompanied my mother-in-law to my father-in-law’s place of origin, Shaoxing, at the same time, we’d also gone to visit my wife’s eldest uncle who’s bedridden.  During the visit, my mother-in-law whispered in her eldest brother-in-law’s ears, “I’m the wife of Rong Hong, we had come home to visit you.”, and, everybody who was there, saw that our eldest uncle who’d been in a vegetative state, with tears coming from his eyes.

Two days after we’d returned back to Taiwan, my wife’s older female cousin called to tell, that eldest uncle is gone, that he was in peace when he passed.

And so, this elderly man is, waiting for that word of his loved one who’d come to Taiwan, and, he’d, finally gotten what he was waiting for, as he’d, passed away in peace, and, the family had, helped fulfilled the older generation’s dreams of returning home to visit his own kin.

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Filed under Family Matters, Life, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

What Death, Had, Turned, You, into…

This is what death, had, turned you, into, nothing!

That’s just it, isn’t it, we all, become, absolutely, NOTHING, after death takes us over.  That, is the way it is, isn’t it???

What death, had, turned, you into, nothing more, than a, bad dream I’d finally waken up out of, and from, and I shall, never again, get, back into, that state, of living in that, nightmare again (thank god, uh, as if, He, existed???).

photo from online


What death had, turned, you into, nothing more than, dusts, and bones, and I’m, spreading you out, over everywhere we used to, love to, go, that patch where you loved, lying beneath for your, afternoon nap, and that patch of our garden, when you loved, digging into, to find the bugs, the grubs…

What death had, turned, you into?  Absolutely, N-O-T-H-I-N-G, for I had, already, mourned, fully AND completely (not to mention!), for these, losses of my own life, and so, death did NOT turn you, into, anything, and you shall, remain, NOTHING, to me, and that, is that!


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

Days Spent with Her

These are the lessons, this mother taught to her daughter, with her, entire life, and the daughter, carried all of the values taught to her by her mother, away, translated…

I Never Dared Made a Complaint about My Mother, Because for a Woman, Her Level of Persistence, of Tolerance, Her Strong Will, Already, Exceeded What Most People Can Take…………

Even Though We were Not Rich, But Our Minds Were, Wealthy

The scenes of my childhood years, they’re, still, lucid in my mind like it was, yesterday, I can’t forget them, even if I wanted to.

Before my middle school exit exams, the children my age had already gone to rest in bed after they bathed, while I, just arrived home, from hauling all the shipments, and I’d started, working the handiworks.  I wanted to make more, but, I had my sectional exam the following day, and I’d felt, ill-at-ease about it, my mother saw my hesitation too, and couldn’t make me stay up to work.  Although, she couldn’t have the heart to make me stay up to work, but, raising six children in the countryside, the economic burdens, surely, crushed down hard.  Finally, I’d, made it to eleven in the evening, my mother announced the end of the “workday” for us, and rushed me upstairs to study.

Every night as the night settled down, I couldn’t help but feel uneven, “Why is it, that we are eating the same foods, but, with such, different fates?”, but I’d never dared, complained about my mother, because, for a woman, her persisting will is, already, way more than the average already; during the daytime when I was out studying in school, my mother with the sun heating down on her, alongside the men, carried the heavy shipments on her shoulders, and at nighttime, she’d, brought home the handiworks, and worked the household chores.  Having a mother who works her hardest, what would I, have to, complain about?  So I’d, prodded open my heavy eyelids, and my fatigued, body, studied until two, three in the mornings, in the countryside at this time, all fell, silent, because everything is, asleep, and yet, I’d heard, that rhythmic, rustling from downstairs, and I was, driven by my curiosity, I’d gone to take a look.  What I saw, made my heart wrenched, and, the scene, etched, deep, into my heart, it was my mother, doing the handiworks without us downstairs.

The days I’d lived with my mother, we were, living in the hard times, but, my heart and soul were, enriched.  My mother worried that we didn’t have enough nutrition, she would pick some wild Burmann sundew, and fried them with the eggs for us.  The smell of the plant is quite strong, and quite rancid too but the nutritional values are high.  From when I was younger, I’d, rammed around out, and I’d needed to get my clothes patched up quite a lot, my mother told me, “there’s no shame in having the patches, but it’s, awful if your clothes are dirty and you still wear it.”, such philosophical words.

illustration from


What I’d missed about my mother, is also, the tastes of the yogurt drinks too, as I’d run the shipments on the weekends, to help us get rid of the heat, my mother would freeze the plastic bottles of the yogurt drinks; the tiny bottles of Yokult, due to being frozen, tasted, especially good, and every time as we’d, peeled back the plastic bottles, we got to, taste the coolness again, and again, and again, that taste, filled up the simpler, childhood years, how easily we were, all satisfied then.

The Year I’d Entered into College, My Mother Fell Ill

I’d also loved spending the holidays in the countryside with my mother, in the fast changes of what’s traditional and what’s modern, my mother’s simple and gentle heart could, always, settle my too young, too unsettled, mind and heart.  The midnights of before the Chinese New Year’s, she would carry the offerings and the vegetables, the fruits too, and, made the offerings to the God who ruled the heavens.  As midnight came, with the sounds of firecrackers crackling, breaking the silence through the skies, the wish-wells from all around, brought in the brand new year of hope.

Compared to the rowdiness of the New Year’s, Chinese Lover’s Day felt, quieter.  As during that day of every year, there would always be rain, and my mother told us, that it’s related to the local legends, “these were the tears of the lovers who met up in the skies, and the bulbul that brought the wrong messages to them, would keep out of sight during this day of the year too.”  And it’s, quite odd too, I don’t remember seeing any bulbuls at this day.  While, the traditions that intrigued me on this holiday is the water in the basin for the lady lover, after three offerings, the kids would fight to wash their faces in the basins, because my mother told us, “boys who used the water to wash their faces will turn handsome, and girls, become pretty”.

The year I’d entered into college, my mother fell ill, and, it took her away, from her, short and hard life.  On the day she’d died, I was about to take my sectional exams, I’d carried the “Essay Selections”, and had her leaned in on my shoulders to rest————the cancer that’s tried my mother so, caused her to not be able to lie down flat, as she lay herself down, she’d started not getting enough air in, and started breathing, heavily.  But that evening, she’d, fallen asleep, soundly, I’d felt happy at first, not known that it was because she’d fallen, unconscious, that she’d, leaned onto me.

As I’d found that something wasn’t right, I’d, immediately rang the emergency bell, the resident on duty, the nurses rushed over immediately, and yet, as my mother had, fallen limp on me, the paramedics can only, wheel us both into the resuscitation room, and thankfully, after the shots of adrenaline in her heart, the measures, she’d regained, her consciousness, asked me for pen and paper, and, wrote with all her might, “go back to school to take your exam.”

That’s how my mother was, always thought about others, and even as she was being tried, in those, final moments of her painful life, she’d still, not changed her kindness toward me.  I’d thought about what Shih Hu wrote in “The Self at 40”: “if I can forgive others, understand others, it all goes to how well my mother had, taught me.  As for my mother, she’d, made me humbler in the faces of everything else in life, to treat everything around me, with, kindness.

And so, this woman had, given her whole life, to her families, without asking for anything in return, and, it’s her attitude, her kindness, her values that were, passed down to her daughter, that she’s, carried, after the mother passed away.  That, is the strong good influence of a parent, to a child.

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Filed under Lessons, Life, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life


The decisions to stop treatment, or to, continue it, weighing the pros and cons of it, over, over, and over again, in our minds, and, we can only pray that in the end, we’d, made the, right choices by our loved ones.

Upon reading Marcie’s “Difficult Choice” on August 25th, I was moved, this hard-to-master lesson of life, is, harder to solve than the, mathematical, equations.

I was forty-two on the year, thought of how at age forty-two, my father caught me, who let out the very first cries of my life, and how time flew quickly by, turned all our hairs white, made him hunched in the back, and, eroded away, his aging, skins.  I’d squatted down, helplessly, in the hallways of the hospital, with my arms around my knees, I’d, broken down and cried.  The sun still radiant outside, while my world had, crumbled down, no longer, is it, a full-circle again.


photo from online

After the marrow was extracted, the biopsies on his liver done, I’d, pushed him back to his ward.  “Ouch!” that was the only word he’d, mumbled aloud after he came to, following that, he’d, drifted into that cycle of, never-ending, eternal, waking and sleeping.

The eyes behind the glasses, with that genuineness about it, said, “sir is too elderly and too weakened in physical strengths, I’m afraid, that he won’t able to get through the chemotherapy or the surgeries, you and your families must make up your minds, don’t leave the regrets for tomorrow, the patients are in pain, the families, in even more, pain.”  The young resident stated these words, that, made my heart twisted up even tighter, can it, not be, a “multiple choice” question?

Three years ago, my eldest uncle fell seriously ill, my older cousins couldn’t let him go, his life was, spared, but, he was kept alive, with all those, tubes going in and out of his body, it’d, made the families, relatives, and friends wondered, can we, tie him down with love, to save his body, because we don’t want him to go?  Then, two months later, he’d gone, and, my older cousin kneeled down in front of the altar, and cried like hell, and blamed himself for making the wrong decisions to save his own father then, that he shouldn’t have, put his own father through those two more months’ worth of, trials in the body.

AS my younger brother heard the surgeon’s statements, he’d exclaimed aloud, “of course, SAVE him!”  “my father’s a military man, he would NOT want to live on like this, I want to save him too, but, as his daughter, I know I can’t be, so, selfish”, I’d, finally, got those, words out, and after that, my heart had a hole in it.  My youngest sister cried, shook her head, and waved her hands no too, she was, my father’s, favorite, youngest child, it’s, simply, too difficult, for her, to voice her thought on the matter.

or this…

saying their, final, goodbyes…and letting go…photo from online

I’d, pushed that hospital bed, with all his belongings, took him to the hospice ward.  It is, very hard to describe what it’s like in there, there are the hopes and expectations of getting out one day on all the other, floors, while here, the patients are, walking, a step closer to death by the day, but it’s, not just that.

As we entered into the hospice, my crying, stopped, the sorrows are, all over the places, but my father looked, more at peace, and, as he woke, he’d said, apologetically to me, “it’d been trying on you”.  my foolish dad, can you, breathe, a bit longer, so, your children can, hold you in their arms, longer, so I can, be a daughter, with a father still?

After a full month in the hospice, I took dad home.  In the company of his children and grandchildren, without those tubes going in and out of his body that made his life even harder, he’d gained, an, extra month, two days after Father’s Day, he’d selected to, fall, into, that eternal, sleep, and thus, our, scents of, missing him, started, rooting downward.

So this would be, one of the, hardest decisions that someone is forced to make, to save the loved ones or to just, let them go, I mean, there’s, a lot to, consider in the matter, are you, willing to, try your loved ones longer, just so you can have them with you longer, or, would you be willing to, say your, goodbyes to them, and, leaving, no love unsaid, and, just, let them go?

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Filed under Choices, Cost of Living, Do-Not-Resuscitate, Life, On Death & Dying, Properties of Life, Right to Die, Right to Life, the Finality of Life

The Murders at the Café in Danshui, the Owner, and the Shareholder Found Guilty

Because he’s one of the owners of the café, and the individual was, murdered there, and he was, sued by the victim’s mother!  Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

The Debates Went on on Whether Hsieh had Drugged the Coffees, Couldn’t Overturn the Rulings of the Courts, the Three Individuals Mandated to Pay the Victim’s Families a Total of $3.68 Million N.T.s

The murderer of the dual-murder case of “Mama’s Mouth Café”, the manager of the café, Hsieh, was sentenced to life-term, and serving the time currently, the murdered victim, Chang’s mother sued the owner of the café, Lu, the shareholders, Chen, and Peng; Lu and the two other men asked for the retrials twice, the Highest Courts confirmed that Chang was drugged in the café by Hsieh, that the three individuals didn’t fulfill their duties of being watchful enough, and were, charged, and found that they need to pay the amount of over $3.68 million N.T.s.

the cafe where the murder happened back in 2013, photo from online…


As Lu and the others asked for a retrial, that there’s a lack of evidence showing Chang dining in the café.  Based off of the medical examiners’ research agency’s findings, ingesting the sleeping pills had caused the murdered victim to pass out immediately, but the waiter claimed that he’d not seen the victim drank down the hot cocoa, and, it takes a total of fifty minutes for the ninety-one-degree Celsius temperature of the hot cocoa to drop to sixty-degrees, it’s hard to imagine, how Chang could, gulf down the hot cocoa in five to ten minutes’ time.

And, there’s not traces of blood on Hsieh, and, it takes a total of fourteen minutes to get to the shop from Hongshuling Station to the shop, but the witnesses pointed out that Hsieh was only out of the café for no more than ten minutes, Lu and the rest of the owners found, that Hsieh wasn’t murdered during the hours of operations.

Chang’s mother’s attorney however, told, that the criminal investigations confirmed, that Chang “was slowly falling into a comatose”, that it’s affirmed, that she’d been drugged at the café, that there’s no mistake in the original ruling, the records of the coroner’s findings, the witnesses’ testimonies are all on file, it’s not new evidence; as for the process of the hot cocoa losing the heat, it’s the evidence from the retrial, that it’d not qualified for retrial of the case.

And this still just showed, how hard it is, to get the “crime scenes” back, as it’d happened, because it’s so many years ago, and, the trial is only, underway, and there are things, evidences, that got lost with time, and, the families will never get the answers they are searching for, and, justice only goes as far as the primary suspect getting sent to death row, or life-sentence, that’s, the best the courts can give us.

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Filed under Abuse, Crime & Punishment, Life, Murder, On the Wrong Side of the Law, Perspectives, Properties of Life, Punishment Doesn't Fit the Crime, the Finality of Life, White Picket Fence

The Confessions of Fresh Flowers, a Poem

What’s left behind, after death???  Translated…

As the Skies Darkened, the Water Grew, Quieter

The Moon Hid Behind the Clouds, the Hardhacks, the Frisee

Not Leaving the Reins, from the Other End of the Ancient Trek

Life is Being Passed Around, the Roots, the Flowers, Parting with the Pains & Sorrows of Breaking

Jade, Fallen & Cracked, Worthless

The Jade Will be Naught in the Owner’s Memories

like this, withered away, and died…photo from online

The Jade Will Keep Filling the Lives, but the Lives

Already, Gone-Away

The Fresh Flowers Confessing Now

All the Kisses are Now, Memories

Those Bundled Up Tears

Lay on the Riverbeds, the Leaves

Blocking the Light Away

The Horse, Chewed on the Flowers

As the Skies, Darkened Down

And so, this is, how everything ends, becoming, nothing, because that, is how it goes, we came here with nothing, and we don’t take anything with us when we go…

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

A Difficult Predicament, the Dramas of Life

Watching her own father, suffering, in this final days, it’d made her realized, how important it is, to set up the D.N.R. for herself, so when the time comes, her own children won’t be tried as hard as she’d been, a lesson learned, from death here, translated…

She stood, at the end of the hospital bed, and, patiently asked the family members’ willingness to place the patient in the hospice program of the hospital.  The patient’s wife opened up her eyes wide, and, stared lost, into the distance, the daughter frowned, and the lips that opened and closed, made no word out.  She’d understood the hardships, that same expression of not knowing what to do had once, covered her own face from before.

Her father passed four years ago, and before that, he’d been, bedridden for four whole years.  As he was diagnosed, she was already, a resident, and has the basic knowledge, awareness of the treatment options of illnesses.  Her father didn’t have any other conditions, not at high risk under anesthesia either, she’d seen a lot of cases like his making full recoveries, and thought, that her father was only getting a coronary bypass, and optimistically planned out the care and where her father is to go to after the surgeries, and yet, she’d, never expected, that her father was, that, exception.  The day right after the surgery, he’d had a hemorrhage, then, a large area stroke, and in the four years of his bedridden days, he’d started losing his ability for speech, for movement, for food intakes, coughing up phlegm, urinating, and defecating, along with other, bodily functions.

illustration from


Although there’s the twenty-four hour care provided by the foreign caretaker, and her mother’s visiting her father at the hospital twice very day, her younger sister’s delivering the filtered juices of fruits, vegetables, the other health products into his feeding tube, but at best, her father’s condition didn’t, worsen.

That final hospital stay had, broken her father down completely, with the series of painful, invasive treatment measures and tests.  As the medication and the respirator could, no longer bring his vital signs to stable, she’d gotten a piece of paper, and, started, swaying between her role as a medical professional, and a family to someone who’s, on the verge of dying—as a family member, she’d wanted to do all that she could, for her father to live longer, but as a doctor, she’d known, that all the measures will, become of, no avail.

In the end, she’d, gazed into her father’s, soulless eyes, and knowing that she should, let go.  After all, her father was quite understanding, of the family’s unwilling to let him go, held in the pains, the illnesses, and continued living for four years, for the family to finally say their, goodbyes to him, then, they should too, give him, a proper, final, farewell.

After her father passed, the family was, hovered by gloom, and the conversations that pass between her and her family was like caring for that scab that started healing up, with much care, but, as she was, left alone on her own, she couldn’t help, but blamed herself; she’d retracted every single decisions from before, reviewed over every tiny detail, to see if she’d, gone according to her own father’s, wishes, after all, as her father retired, he’d loved, hiking around a lot, collected a house full of, antiques, loving life, and she’d now wondered, the four years of his getting kept in bed, was it, a form of, punishment to him?

Until the gnash had, healed into a scab, did the family sit down to discuss, and slowly, they’d, all gotten through that time of, depression, of gloom.  As everything was spoken out into the open, they’d all come to understand, that their father with his optimism would hate to see them in regret, blaming themselves, or getting angry at the situation; while, they’d, selected, on an ordinary afternoon, gone to the hospital, to set up their, do-not resuscitate, to NOT leave the decision-making difficulties behind, for their own, loved ones to handle.

And so, this, is what is taken away, learned, from the death of a loved one, and, there will always be regrets of whether or not we’d done the right things by our loved ones, in these, situation, and all we can do, is live with the choices we made, and this family had learned from losing the father, setting up their separate, D.N.R.’s, so their younger generations won’t be tried as hard as they’d been, with their own father.

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Filed under Life, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Right to Die, the Finality of Life, The Right to Choose How One Will Die

Final Rites

How she wanted it done, the belief of this, elderly woman…translated…

I don’t live with my mother, but, her registry is with my home, and as I received the notices for the elderly population to get vaccinated, I’d immediately called her up.  But my mother started, leisurely telling me how she wanted her final affairs to go, as I clenched onto the phones, I’d felt, sorrowful, and started, crying.

My mother told, that all her three children are all grown and married, with six grandchildren, that she was, more than satisfied with her time here on earth in this life, that she had, no regrets, and told me a list of possible symptoms of the vaccination, that if she’d died, it shall be fate’s doing!

From before, the subject of death was tabooed between us mother and daughter, actually, I’d wanted to, discuss this matter with my mother, like how she’d planned to have her funeral set up?  But as the words about to flowed out, I’d, taken a deep inhale and take it all back in, worried that it might be, bad luck, mentioning it, that these, unlucky things, we should, avoid from, discussing.

illustration from


But because of the Astra-Zeneca vaccinations this time, my mother struck up this conversation about death, and told that if she’d died, it would be, just as well, at least, she’d not had any illness, no need to get tortured by a progressive condition, that in the end, we all, must, go; she’d told us to not feel sad in the end, and reminded me, “after I die, don’t take the money offerings from the white envelopes.”

Awhile ago, I’d heard my older brother carefully prodded my mother, “if many, many years from now, when you depart, how would you want your funeral to go?  Do you want it to have a ton of people coming, to see you off?  Or, would you prefer it simpler, to not bother others?  How much paper money offerings should we make?  What sort of music do you want played?  Do you want us to give you a mansion made with paper?”, my mother’s replies back to my older brother was, “Whatever you want!”, but added, “after I’m gone, do NOT take the money in the white envelopes from people”, she was, so steady in her tone of voice, even right now.

My mother married at twenty-two lost my father at age forty-nine.  My parents were the description of “couple living in poverty”, but not to the point of them, living miserably through their lives, mostly, they’d gotten upset over some minor things, argued on the unimportant matters of their lives; but, they’d, spatted over how much money to give to the weddings and funerals for over two decades’ time.

Since I could recall, several times I’d stayed hidden at the corners of the walls of my home, watched my mother cried as she’d fought with my father; several times, I’d, hidden myself underneath the covers, with my father’s loud voice getting into my ears.  My parents argued unstop, my father insisted on putting the same amount like the rest of our relatives, worried that if he’d given less, then, it wouldn’t, be right; while my mother worried that if he’d put the extra amounts in, she wouldn’t have enough for the groceries, that it would affect our livelihoods, and the arguments passed between the two of them constantly.  And finally, they’d, patched things up and after a while, the wedding notices, the funeral notices came, and, like a bomb, it’d, blew up in our faces again, they started back up arguing again, and they’d even, brought out the old matters from before too, and gotten at each other’s, throats.

Toward the sudden-coming wedding and funeral notices, it’d worried my mother so, sometimes, she’d, taken out the loans, sometimes, she’d, followed the groups, mixed, matched.  And the points in her memories of receiving the funeral and wedding notices, stayed, clear in my mother’s, mind.  Even as she’s an elderly person, she’s still, stressed about this matter.  And now, as the outbreaks occurred, she’d brought up the discussion of her final affairs, how she wanted it handled that she’d never done before with us, and told us, to NOT take the money offerings from the white envelopes, to cause trials in others’, lives.  On my end of the line, I’d, started crying, reason being I’d felt a ton of emotions, and the memories came back, one of the points was how I’d felt moved by my mother’s gentle heart—how she is able to empathize, to use her own personal experiences to understand the trials of others in life.

what her mother didn’t want…

photo from online

Mom, I shall remember your words, and, as I grow older, I want to do just like you, on my funerals many, many, many years from now, I won’t be, taking any money for condolences either.

And so, this, is this older generation’s considerations of others, because the elder grew up in trying times, in poverty, and lived through how it was when the family didn’t have enough to get by, and she’d, gained that empathy toward others because of it, and, she’d, passed the values down to her own children too.

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Filed under Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life, Values

Setting Down into the West, a Poem

What is left, after life is, over, and death, settles in???  Translated…

Lined Up in the Distance, Like Those

Wandering Souls, without Any Gender Specifications Anymore

The Exchanges of Words, with the Unified Pronunciations, Grammar

The Weather’s Exactly Like So, the Setting Sun Too

Fermenting the Wines in the Brain Cells

If I’d Known Earlier, that This Was How Time Works

where we all, eventually, end up! Photo from online

A Lot of Tears, a Lot of My Sorrows

The Past Can be Birthed Out without Pains

At the End of the Sunset, Reproducing Another Sun-Shining Bright

Version of My, Brand New Self

Many Years Later I’d Turned Back Once More

The Eyes, No Longer Burned Me

Those Unsaid, and Those, Missed-Out-on, Flowed

Along, Away, Like the Waters

The Springtime Too, Only Lowered its Head to Inquire

Of that Year’s, Willow that’s, Bent by the Wind

Waiting Until the Wind Gently Grazed Across the Shores

That Slowly Covered, Vanishing Name & Reputation

The Echoes No Longer Heard from the Distance

Only that Rising Smoke Now, the Chants that Came & Went

Soaring Through the Night Skies Like that Star

And so, this, is what life became, after death, absolutely, NOTHING, we don’t take anything, not even our skins and bones when we depart, so, it makes us wonder what is it that we’re, fighting for, and what sort of a legacy we want to leave behind???

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Filed under Awareness, Life, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

The Three-Year-Old Child was Abused to Death by Her Boyfriend, the Mother Called it in as the Child Having a Stomach Ache

The mother was, neglectful, to say the least, but she had an “alibi”, she’d not found her kid until she came home from work!  One more kid that dropped dead here!!!  Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

The Clinic the Child was Taken to Told the Families that the Child Needed to Go to a Major Hospital, the Suspect Didn’t, after the Mother Came Home from Work Several Hours Later, Did She Finally Call for Help, Her Boyfriend Taken into Custody

Two days ago in the afternoon, Chen went to the fire department asked for help, claimed that her three-year-old son was having a “stomach ache”, by the time the ambulance arrived in the hospital, the boy was, not showing any vital signs, after the emergency resuscitation measures were performed, he was pronounced dead, the hospital reported the case as suspected abuse; the police and district attorneys found that it was the cohabiting boyfriend, Yang who abused the child physically, denied the abuse, the district attorneys after the interrogations asked the courts to have Yang into custody, and the courts allowed it, while Chen was listed as a witness, and sent home, an autopsy is scheduled today, to clarify the cause of death for the young boy.

The investigations found, that the twenty-two year-old Chen is divorced from her ex, they each took custody of a son, her ex took their eldest, moved back south, while Chen and her three-year-old youngest son lived in Longjing District, Taichung; Chen works in a betel nut stand, was all right economically, after the divorce, she’d started cohabiting with the thirty-one year-old man, Yang, and there wasn’t any records of domestic violence on file for the family.

At around three o’clock in the afternoon two days ago, Chen called emergency, stating that her three-year-old son is having a stomach ache and needed to get to the hospital, the fire department sent out the ambulance, before they arrived in the hospital, the child was already dead, the hospital unsuccessfully resuscitated him.  The hospital found there were new and old bruises on the young boy’s abdomen and back, seemingly from external forces, and, notified the social services’ violence prevention center, and the police too.

The police investigated, that two mornings ago, Yang took the boy to a local clinic, the physician at the clinic found the boy serious injured, wrote a transfer slip, told Yang to take the boy to a major hospital, but Yang didn’t, he’d taken the boy home; in the afternoon, as Chen came home from the betel nut stand where she worked, she’d found her son, she’d immediately notified the local firehouse for help, but she was, three, to four hours too late, the child was already, in a comatose.

In the interrogations, both Chen and Yang claimed, that they would discipline the boy normally, but denied the allegations of abuse, as they were sent to the D.A.’s office, Chen told the officials, that her boyfriend had beaten her son up, but Yang denied it, and, evaded the D.A.’s questions; the district attorneys believed that Yang was involved in manslaughter, with the flight risks, and the corroborating of his statements, destroying the evidences, asked the courts to have him into custody, which the courts signed off on.

The police and D.A. went to check the body of the young boy, found there were the old and new large areas of bruising on the child’s back and abdomen, but couldn’t determine what the cause of death was, the district attorneys ordered an autopsy to clarify the cause of death.

The birthfather of the young boy expressed his anger on Facebook, “how can you be so cruel in the treatment of a child?”, and grieved for his own young, “you’re no longer in pain now, do grow up happy in another world, daddy will, always, love you”, it’d made all who’d read felt very sorrowful.

And so, the mother, although she wasn’t present when her own son was brutally murdered by her boyfriend, she’s still, at fault, for enabling his abuse, she’d FAILED to protect her own son from the abuse of her boyfriend, and yet, the police only zoomed in on the perpetrator, the boyfriend who was the one who’d, actually, physically, beaten this young boy to death, why is that?  Oh yeah, because the mother wasn’t present, and she couldn’t do anything to save her son, was that it?

Well, there must’ve been previous encounters of the boyfriend’s, abusing her own son, so, why did she do nothing?  And yet, only the man who’d, brutally MURDERED her own young son was, arrested…

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Filed under Abuse, Abuser/Enabler Interaction Style, Children Murdered, Death by Negligence, Knowing the Law and Breaking It, Murder, Murdered by the Dates of Parents, Negligence, Negligence Homicide, On the Wrong Side of the Law, Right to Life, the Finality of Life, White Picket Fence, Wrongful Deaths