I'm not that close to my siblings.  We don't spill our guts out to each other or hug each other.  I'm the middle child, my sis is a couple of years older than me and my bro is a year younger.  My brother was just this annoying guy who grew up faster than I did.  He got a summer job before I ever did (and made more money at it).  He had a car before I did.  He had a gf before I did.  (oh wait, I never had one...).  It wasn't until he told me he was getting married when it struck me he grew up without me being an older brother for him. I was never there for him.  We're better now.  We always find a reason to laugh when we do get together.  I've never told him I'm gay but I doubt if that will come as a surprise to him. 

My sis is tough gal, a scrapper but with a gentle heart inside.  But she's the type of person who doesn't like to reveal that heart.  She never went to university. I don't know why but she started to work in retail right out of high school.  In a lot of ways, she's been pretty successful. Retail is a tough industry with slim margins.  It doesn't pay that well.  My parents worry about her because she's always been the sensitive type.  Right now, she's the primary caretaker for my dad.  The two of them have never been close and their relationship is strained partly because of the stress.  I do what I can to help but I can't be there every day.  So she's the one that has to make sure dad is fed.  She looks at the relative freedom my brother and I have and I'm sure she isn't happy with it.  The strained relationship between her and my dad is creating a lot of stress for me.  I worry that if I talk to her about it, she'll somehow take it out on my dad.  I wasn't that close to my dad either but when my mom died, I knew I had to figure out how to get closer to him. I wish she found a way to do this and I'm angry she hasn't.

Now if either of them want dad to do something, they just leave it to me.  "He'll listen to you Matt."  Well - not always but I do try to figure out ways to get my dad to understand my position while acknowledging his.  Sometimes when sis is in a good mood, we'll have a lot of fun and laughs.  We do have more than our fair share of civil conversation - don't get me wrong.  It's not always anger.  But we're just not close.  I have my own issues to.  I'm not an easy person to get along with.  I've got my share of issues.  Thanks to my own rosy picture of myself, I can portray myself as a cross between Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama. I'm nothing like that.  I can be very cold.

It's odd.  I wasn't even thinking of writing this.  Alex wrote about his brother it just got me thinking my own relationship with my siblings. I wonder what the future will hold for us when dad passes on. 

One of my most memorable meal was a very simple meal.  It was simply romaine lettuce that was blanched in boiling water and drizzled with oyster sauce.  I had this meal many years ago and the memories are still very powerful.  Our family had sat down for dinner when I noticed the dish of lettuce.  It was still steaming hot with oyster sauce on the top.  My brother had also noticed it as well.  We both looked at each other but didn't say anything.  At that time, my brother was working in a restaurant.  Sometimes he would bring back kitchen scraps so that mom can use it for her compost pile.  My brother and I knew the lettuce was from the bag that my brother brought home.   My mom saw us and gave us a stern lecture.  She told us the lettuce leaves were still in good condition and are perfectly fine for eating.  They have been washed thoroughly and we shouldn't be wasting food.  "I wouldn't serve it if I thought the leaves were spoiled!"

We both knew mom was fastidious about cleaning vegetables and fruits.  I was embarrassed because I knew money was very tight in our family at that time. Our parents always made a point since we were young not to waste food.  We were told about the hardships the farmers went through to grow food.  This would be followed by how hard dad worked to put food on our table so we had enough to eat.   That night, I didn't dare say a word and ate the lettuce along with everything else.  I think we all made a point of not leaving any food in our plates that night.  

I still cringe whenever I have to throw away food in my fridge that has been spoiled.  I try to make sure that doesn't happen too often.  Sometimes it's just difficult to buy food for one (especially vegetables that have been bundled or packaged for families).  But I know I can get better manage that by doing a bit more planning and freezing what I can't eat immediately.  I've had many other meals that were fancier, more expensive, more exotic and tastier.  But this simple dish still ranks up there as one of my most memorable meal.

photo credit:  http://www.sochina.net/Chinese-Food/Cantonese-Cuisine/Romaine-lettuce-of-oyster-sauce_565.html

I was watching reruns of the comedy show 2 and a Half Men one night.  In one episode, Charlie Sheen has a few of his friends over for an evening of scotch, cigar and conversation.  That scene (see below) caught my eye.  It's really suppose to be a men's support group.  I think I would enjoy that feeling of camaraderie, fellowship & friendship reinforced with scotch and a nice Cuban cigar.  There's something about just hanging out with guys where I can just sit back, listen, be supportive, let loose with some crude jokes every so often and just be there for others.  I'd probably switch the Cuban cigar with something else though since I don't smoke.  But I do like the smell of cigars and pipe tobacco.

click here for the episode  (the video embed code was disabled)

Now I'm not sure why I'm really writing this.  Maybe I'm just trying to expand my circle of friends.  It's a tiny circle right now and I actually feel I have more friends in Xanga than I do in real life.  I have a friend from school that I see every so often.  He'll give me a shout when he flies out here on business.  Everytime we meet up, we just hit it off again.  But his "territory" has changed these past couple of years.  I only found out by accident that he and his family recently moved to the US.  So it'll be a bit more challenging rekindling that friendship.  I think the bigger challenge is to develop new and lasting friendships. 

Anyone care for some Scotch?

We've been keeping an eye on dad these past few weeks.  We received word that his brother in law (my uncle) passed away a couple of weeks ago.  He's more like a friend to my dad and they have known each other for decades.  His brother in law lives across the ocean and my dad last visited him a few years ago when he was still able to get around.  They've always exchanged cards and phone calls.  I've only met him once and he was a very generous man with a big heart.  I dropped by the day after he heard the news to make sure he was ok.  He didn't say much and kept to himself during our weekly dinner.  When I took him to one of his medical appointments, I broached the subject.  He wanted more details about my uncle's death.  I told him as much as I know about my uncle's illness.  At the hospital, he was unusually calm and patient even with the long wait. 

The next day though, he exploded in anger on my brother for something very trivial.  I was surprised when I heard about this.  I think my brother understood that it wasn't anything he did.  My sister on the other hand has a somewhat tense relationship with my dad.  She's the primary care giver so the stress is high.  While she cares for him very much, they have a tough time communicating with each other.  Sometimes I try to tell my sister that dad's gradual dementia can get the better of him and she shouldn't take it personally.  But we all have very different relationship with dad.   He worked long hours and it was mom that really raised us.  When mom passed away our "cushion" from dad was removed.  So each of us approached this in our own way and had to rebuild new bonds. 

I'm sure dad senses his mortality each day.  He failed an eye test as well which meant he had to stop driving.  It was something he had stubbornly refused despite our pleas and stern discussions.  It was the last vestige of a former life that he clung on to.  A life where he was independent and in charge.  The news of my uncle's passing and his ill health are stark reminders.  I try to take all of this day by day but the days will soon run out.  There are still some difficult and tricky discussions that I need to have with him. 

I think my old house (my dad's house) has a spirit.  l don't mean it's haunted.  But I can sense something.  Everytime I visit my dad's place, I look at all the things that are wrong with the house.  It was built in the 50's.  This is a handyman's dream.  It's small compared to some of the new houses in the neighbourhood.  I mentally keep a log of things that need to be fixed from wiring, kitchen cabinets, insulation, plaster falling down, paint peeling etc...  It's depressing to think about what needs to be done. 

This house already knows I've been looking at it with a very critical eye for quite some time.  But after my first night here in a long time, I sense something else.  It's telling me about the years of faithful service, a yeoman's job performed with minimal budget for maintenance.  Yes there have been leaks here and there, a basement flooding and some other things.  But we never had a lot of money for major renovations.  This old house has always been a rock for us.  The old kitchen cabinets, the fading wallpaper, the tiny bathroom - they will never help sell this house.  Buyers will get so turned off by so many things.  But they won't see or understand that it has been our family's faithful companion for so long.  There are so many memories and emotions that have seeped into the foundations of this house. 

Despite my critical views, this house has already welcomed me back.  I'm starting to regret some of the things I've felt about this house.  With stoic silence and unflinching loyalty, this house is giving me a silent lesson in gratitude. 

It's hard to describe the mood I'm in.  There are times when I don't want to look after my dad anymore.  This is usually followed by anger, guilt and acceptance.  This is what life is all about I tell myself and these are my responsibilities.  Maybe it's just a combination of work and my incredibly mundane life.  Whenever I go over to dad's place, the to do list that inevitably pops into my head is just overwhelming.  Whenever I come home, my own "honey do" list is just as big.  There's my work which I need (well, the income - not the work).  With jobs being outsourced left, right and centre - I have to do what I can to make myself valuable.

But it's very tiring.  Whatever down time I get is either on chores or at my dad's place.  Sometimes I'm just mentally exhausted.  It's like playing poker I suppose.  I'm not drawing any decent cards to make any big bets or to get ahead.  I'm just watching my ante disappearing bit my bit. 

Ok - enough venting.  I have to pick up some light bulbs.  I can't believe I have 3 lights all burnt out at my place.  Maybe a bit of light will brighten things up.

Thank you all for your support, advice, prayers, hugs, encouragement and prayers.   It is touching and deeply appreciated. 

Dad is slowly recovering from his latest ailment.  The antibiotics is working and he is struggling with the side effects.  He was pretty good last night until the new meds kicked in.  This morning, he looked a lot worse and so I was checking on him frequently.  There's always someone with him 7/24.  At least one of us will get groceries and supplies, someone will cook and everyone helps with all the rest of the chores.  But we know we can't do this forever. 

I don't have any problems going to sleep at night anymore.  While caring for him isn't physically tiring, it is mentally stressful.  I feel so drained when I hit the bed that I immediately fall asleep.

Thanks again for all your support.

It's been a tough two days looking after dad.   He picked up a pretty bad infection in his foot.  He says the pain is unbearable and he can't walk.  It's been tough on my sister who bears the primary burden of home care.  I help him get dressed and with washroom duties.  He's got other health problems as well.  A recent change in medication has ruined his appetite and made him nauseous.  He can only eat a couple spoons of food before calling it quits. 

At his age, his body is beginning to fail him.  Incontinence is just awful both physically and mentally.  I was hesitant to write about this.  It's humiliating for him.  But each of us will deal with it so be warned.   I worry about his mental state.  He doesn't want to be put in any type of a retirement home or facility.  So he keeps pretending that all is well and doesn't tell us anything until it's too late. 

So for the next few weeks, we will deal with things like home care assistance, special walking carts, frames for toilet... and stuff like that.  The other week at the hospital I picked up brochures about Power of Attorney, palliative care, living will and stuff like that. 

Death - I can hear your faint footsteps coming again.  But for now, he's still in our hands. 

I wish I knew how to garden.  My mom was a green thumb.  Flowers seem to bloom and vegetables would sprout almost at will.  Of course, I know there was a lot of hard work.  She read a lot of gardening books.  Her English wasn't that good and this was one way she improved her language skills (dad helped).   At one point we even had some poppy plants.  My brother and I joked about having an opium farm. 

The garden was a source of pride and enjoyment for my mom.  They always found time to sit under the shade of the tree enjoying a lazy summer breeze.  She always had a big patch for roses.  We would always have to be careful watering it and minimized the splashing of water on the leaves.  After mom passed away, dad moved it to the front yard - underneath the living room windows and by the steps to the front porch.  I was horrified because I knew roses don't like to be moved. 

Sure enough - they just withered away and all that was left were the stems.  This year though they seemed to have come back to life.  I guess it took the roots a few years to adjust.  Although one plant didn't make it, there were a few small blooms and lots of healthy looking leaves.  I was stunned and I should have known better.  They are right by the railing of the front steps and they reach out to the hand rail by the stairs.   It's almost as if mom was sending a message to dad to hold on to the rails when he goes up and down the steps. 

Any simple suggestions on how to best care for roses? 

Both my parents went through the horrors of WW2.  They both saw first hand the horrors and destruction of the war.  My grandfather was captured and imprisoned by the Japanese.  He came out of that experience a broken man who never fully recovered from it.  My mom saw her classmate get blown up.  Both my parent's families were torn apart and lost their homes.  There were many nights when they went to bed hungry and scared.  They saw the atrocities and brutality from the Japanese soldiers.  My dad told me he killed a soldier.  It wasn't until last year did I learn he actually killed another soldier.  He said it was the sheer rage and anger that drove him.   Many years after the war, he had to talk to a priest to help deal with the nightmares from their deaths.  My parent's lives were never the same after the war.  They had to rebuild their lives and move on.  

Years later, my parents met and got married.  They honeymooned in Japan of all places.  As I grew up and slowly learned what they had gone through I asked why they picked Japan.  My dad said it wasn't his idea.  He was against it in the first place.  It was my mom's idea.  She had convinced him to go.  She said there was still a lot of good things in the Japanese culture and people.  He knew better to argue with her.
They both had a great time in Japan and always spoke highly and almost with some reverence about their experience in Japan. 

They told me about a day they had in Kyoto.  They were walking down a lane and saw a small but very nice park.  They walked around this small park and soon realized it was someone's private garden.  An elderly Japanese woman came out and welcomed them.  She beckoned them to sit down at a bench and went back in.  After awhile, she came out with some tea for them.  My parents told me that this simple but honest gesture touched them dearly.  This was just one of the many good experience they had in Japan.  My dad admitted that it was indeed fortunate that they chose Japan for their honeymoon.  They saw the people in a very different light and were able to separate them from the soldiers, the military and the war.  That trip was the start of a healing process for him. 

I think of this story as I read and listen to the anger and ignorance when one culture confronts another and when one religion confronts another.  Rather than finding the common good and values, we quickly take a position based on hatred and fear.   If my dad (who can be very stubborn) can come to grips with this, I'm sure others can.   Maybe it's time for a bit of soul searching and less rhetoric.