We are suppose to be merciful to the dying, but were they ever merciful to themselves?  She's hooked up on life support, and was pretty unresponsive for the past few days.  The doctor told us to accept what's coming, and that her time's almost up, but what's coming ain't seem too eager to come.  Days passed by with her just hanging by the very ends of her being.

Her whole arm's bloated up, they say, and I'm guessing that the I.V fluids can't find drainage.  Relatives come and go, saying final words that probably won't be heard.  Mom said she's been gone inside for quite a few months back, and finds comfort in the fact that she had probably walked out of her mind bit by bit with peace and ignorance to a place where time never mattered, and what's still alive now is no more than a damaged  and atrophied meat shell running on empty. 

But did I ever get to say a proper goodbye every time I visited last year?  She kept on thinking that I'll come back for my holidays, but her sense of time's so screwed up she kept thinking that holidays will always be two weeks away with no progression from today to tomorrow.

Why all this cruelty, why and with not a single day of ease?  Why so many friends and yet so many enemies among the closest of your kin?  You took everything they threw at you well but why were you never given what you deserve?  Your friends cannot help you, your kinsfolk are always trying to kill you, and you cannot help yourself!

Even the hospital's trying to do a number on her, telling my aunt that she's OK to go home, even though she's not.  She doesn't even look anywhere near OK.

My aunts refused, same with mom.  Doctor called the next day, repeating the same thing.  A random nurse called the day after, and the next.  Nurse moved on to threats of forced eviction, without caring if she's now totally reliant on permanent life support, which my house definitely doesn't have. 

Finally, nurse called to say that the hospital's gonna call the cops on us, and that they'll do everything possible to get their way.

Funny how a government hospital, that used to house the sick and the dying a few years back, is now devoid of any old folks sleeping over.  Impressive new policy they have here.

Mom called in yesterday to say that grandma's not the only one having a streak of bad luck, it seems that granduncle was recently diagnosed with tongue cancer, and her daughter, who had just fought off breast cancer a few years ago have to deal with liver cancer in round 2.

And oh, my current economic fate is in the hands of a person with a delicate disposition, with his frail sanity eaten away bit by bit, he's now only inclined to help me halfheartedly, and on Mondays only.

Labels: sorrow

They told me that grandmother had taken ill earlier today.  She won't eat anything, and there's something wrong with her lungs.  Her eye's were half shut, and she's gone catatonic.

They feel that she's pretty near the clearing at the end of the path, and yet they waited and dawdled and insisted that my old man, who was miles away to rush back and be the one to take her to the hospital.  Evidently with all the able bodied people all around her, nobody was willing to do anything to help her.  They raved and they complained but they sat still, and what nerves they have! 


One should really question their motives, maybe they've been waiting a long time for this moment...

Hargh!

Nothing can really sum up the extent of the anger I'm feeling now, I..I...

My God my Lord, if you can hear out the pain and sadness of your humble servant, please do what you may to help her.  Amen.

Labels: sorrow

I went for a swim with some of my friends two days ago, and it was the first time for me in many months.  All should be well, but it isn't.

Just sitting with half of my body in the not so cold water produced wave after wave of ungodly chills up my spine.  My teeth can't stop chattering and the palm of my hands were a sickly white.

I came to realize then that my life had been but an endless series of all or nothing gambles.

I gambled to stay alive, I gambled to stay on the very top at great cost, I gambled away people's trust and money, I gambled with time.

I cannot help anyone, and I cannot save anyone!

All of this nonsense, and for what?  It's a miracle I can stay alive for so long.  I shouldn't even be alive in the first place.

I can't but feel bitter envy at people who can be so alive, with their worlds full of meaning and health, and living as if with no effort at all.  Plus, they don't have to try very hard to win, winning everything is already a permanent part of their easy lives.

For me, I'll have to travel thrice as far just to catch up, and ten times the sacrifice just to overtake them, but no matter what I did I never became the very best, just because of some limitation at play.

I can win if I want to, I think, but I won't be very human anymore by then, as I once was.

But I think there's no turning back for this sort of existence, if you can call it that.  It's hollow, through and through, as I already am, too.

Labels: sorrow

Just came back from the funeral of a friend of a friend.  It seems that the old guy died after a protracted battle with an undisclosed illness.  Said guy wanted a Christian funeral as one of his last wishes, and relatives obliged.

I happened to be there to fill up the empty seats, and to provide some vocals for the funeral songs.

There were three eulogies, one by a teary eyed daughter and the other two by his young grandsons.

Mr Fong certainly is something.

When the speeches were finished and the songs were sung, people left.  The closer relatives stayed behind and played mahjong.

I went up to the glass covered coffin, not entirely certain as to why people paid so little attention to it.

The casket was stately and solid looking.  The lid was opened halfway, and there was a bunch of white flowers placed atop the slightly fogged up glass.

At first I thought they left the thing empty aside from a small bundle of neatly wrapped white cloth, until I found out that the head was left uncovered at the other end of the coffin and realized that whatever he had died of shrank and thinned him up before stopping his heart.  He looked nothing like what was portrayed on his funeral portrait.

But I'm truly fascinated by how peaceful he looked.  With nary a grimace and wrinkles smoothed out after all the lights inside go out he's a perfect picture of serenity.  However much that I might contradict myself with the real facts, I think that death from this point of view looked pretty painless and uneventful, probably no more different from going off to a sleep you don't get to wake up from.

It's simply beautiful.

Labels: funeral