What present would you give to someone who is dying? 

This weekend, I watched a family coming to grips with someone who has less than a year to live.  It was interesting seeing what each of them got her as presents.  Do you pretend that life is still normal and give them the usual gifts?  Or do you give them something they may use immediately?  Or something that will give them some sense of comfort and security? 

I struggled through this when my mom was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer.  She celebrated her birthday with a bout of chemo.  We went through one last Christmas and her last Chinese New Year together.  For the life of me, I don't remember what I got her during those holidays.  There are a lot of things I've just completely blanked out during that period of time. 

But the gifts don't matter.  She told me she wanted to be cremated and made it absolutely clear her preference for DNR (do not resuscitate).   She didn't have a will but she wanted me to make sure our debt to her brother would be paid.  She taught me a few more dishes.  She told me what dishes dad liked.  I just tried to make as much time for her during that time as much as possible.  But it's all a blur now.  All I have now are fragments.  Some are small and disjointed.  But there are some large, contiguous chunks of memory that I'm hanging on to.

So here's my advice.  Give something that is precious - yourself.  If you need to reconcile some things - do so.   Even if the other person doesn't want to, your conscience will be clean.  Find out ahead of time what affairs need to be handled and what wishes they have.  Don't wait until they have started to fade away.   Are they worried about something or someone?  I think it's important that you do what you can to help ease their worries so they can pass peacefully. 

Don't get that person a lifetime membership at some gym, or a fur coat.  Give yourself. 

Angry words were muttered under our breaths and enforced by scowls.

The door slammed shut just a split second after I stepped out.

The porch light dimmed quickly before I even took one step.

I drove home with my jaws clenched and anger raging.

But I keep it in like I always do. 

It's still simmering but under control. 

But one of these days, I'll really lose it. 

Sadly, I think that will happen and the curse will continue on for another generation.

* * * * *
I'm ok... just venting.

I took a day off today.  It was a bright, sunny day that started with lots of optimism.  I thought I could pick up all the good vibes from yesterday.   Instead, everything I touched today soured on me.  There wasn't anything I could do right.  I'm sure if I took a sh*t, I would miss the bowl. 

It's just one of those days. 

I'm sure if I took a sh*t, I would miss the bowl.  There won't be toilet paper. When I flush, it'll just overflow.  I'll probably be barefoot too.

If I was a vampire today, I'd probably would have a tooth ache. 

If I was into S&M, I'd get nothing but tender loving care.

If I went shopping today, I know the person in front of me or behind me will get some sort of
prize for being the 1,000,000th customer.

If I picked my nose, I would accidentally poke my eyeballs.

If I fart, it won't just be gas that would come out.  And of course, I'd be wearing my tighty whities.

If I took a viagra pill, I would accidentally overdose and give new meaning to rigor mortis.

If I have a xiao long bao now, it would just spill all over me. 

If I submit this entry, I'm sure everyone will think I'm weird. 

There's about 30 minutes left before Friday is finally over.  Of course, tonight - I'll finally get my wish.  Time will finally slow down so I can enjoy every minute of it. 

I need a beer. Of course,  I don't have any more beer left! 

I will try to catch up on your entries and comments soon.  My Xanga is now down to about 15 minutes a day of "speed reading."   I could easily spend an hour or two a day on Xanga if I'm not careful.

Work has been pretty crazy the past week with rampant rumors flying left, right and centre.   I've been trying to take on my responsibilities from my manager and get more visibility.  I'm trying to see what opportunities might unfold for me down the road. 

I just want to play and have fun. 

When I was still a sweet innocent little boy, I dreaded Mondays.  As bedtime on Sunday evening approached, my stomach would turn into knots.  I couldn't sleep and I was a nervous wreck.  I dreaded what the next school day will bring. 

When I started to work, I dealt with this anxiety by going to work early on Monday.  By 7AM, I was already in the office.  When people showed up at 9, I was already well into my day.  It gave me a sense of being in control.   Nowadays, I don't go into work that early anymore.  I'm not as nervous or anxious as I used to be but I can still feel the underlying tension. 

Usually, I'll check my emails on Sunday nights just to make sure there aren't any landmines waiting for me the next day.   If problems come up, I just tell myself that's what work is all about.  That's why I get paid for - to use my experience, skills and creativity to solve problems.  It becomes a more of a mental chess game.  Is the stress still there?  Of course,  but I have become more adept at compartmentalizing this.   I'm also fortunate to have a good manager this time as well.  I don't dread Mondays as I have in the past.  I am just suspicious of them.  Maybe over time I'll grow to love and embrace Mondays. 

I was thinking about all of this an hour ago.  I hate that feeling when the weekend is finally over.  I can't believe that I've had this feeling for Mondays so long.  I guess it's just another of my quirky little traits that I've grown to love gotten used to after all these years. 

Have a great Monday everyone. 

I was really dragging my butt yesterday.  I use my cell phone as my alarm clock.  I just couldn't roll out of bed when it rang.  I think part of the reason is that I know I didn't have an early meeting.  But I eventually talked myself into waking up.  After showering and having breakfast, I turned on the TV, packed my laptop bag and put on my socks.  I don't even know what channel it was on - I just wanted to see the weather.

There was a cartoon - Curious George on.  I've seen it when J's nephews and nieces watch their TV shows.  So what do I do?  I slowly put on my socks and became mesmerized by this cartoon chimp.  He was trying to get a fish out of a small pond into the adjoining bigger body of water.  I watched for 20 minutes as he finally used the principles of a canal to get the fish out. 

The 20 minutes just flew by and I had to battle the rush hour to get to my office.  I can't believe I got sucked into that.  I think I may be regressing into a second childhood. 

Hmm... I wonder what that silly monkey is up to today? 

I don't have a lot of storage in my condo and it always looks messy and cluttered.  Today as I was clearing out some things from a book case, a few parking receipts fell on the floor.   As soon as I saw it, I knew what they were from.  It was from the parking lot across from the hospital where my mom passed away.  I parked there every time I visited the hospital.  I remember how expensive it was.  The fees range between $10 to $21 a day, depending on how long I stayed.  The first receipt one I picked up was the day when she passed away. A bunch of memories suddenly flooded in.

There are a lot of things I want to remember now.  But back then, I pretty well buried those memories into the deep crevasses of my brains.  Those last few days were not easy to handle.  I didn't want to talk to anyone at all.  I just kept it all inside.  I've always been like that. 

As I held the receipts, I debated whether to throw them out or not.   In the end, I just tucked them back inside the book shelf.  It's illogical.  I told myself, maybe I want to start documenting some of those things I've long buried and deal with it.  But I don't know why or if it is even healthy to do this.  I've moved on already.  Why look back? 

 I'm sure this is simply bewildering to all of you. 

I was chatting with my aunt the other day.  It must have been painful for her to listen to me talk in my fractured Cantonese mixed in with English.  She told me about a dream she had of my mom (her younger sister).  I think this is the second time she's dreamt about her.  I asked what she looked like and some details.  It felt strangely comforting listening to all of this.   We chuckled and laughed at the dream although we clearly missed her. 

It reminded me of a dream my mom had after her cat passed away.  This cat was a stray cat that just showed up on one cold November day.  We've had cats before and my mom always knew how hard it when pets pass away.  This cat quickly became a favorite and was quite smart.  Even dad (who wasn't a cat person), slowly came around.  Mom asked him one day why he was blow drying his hair in the living room.  My dad said the cat was sleeping in their room and he didn't want to wake up the cat. 

Sadly, after a few years, the cat became ill and passed away.  For months after that, mom always felt the presence of the cat around the house.  She complained that she never dreamt about the cat.  I always chalked it up to a phase she was going through.  About a year after the cat had passed away, my mom told me about a strange dream she had.  It was about the cat.  She was smiling and laughing when she related the story. 

She was in a large open field.  She said she quickly knew it was a cat heaven.  There were so many cats and she couldn't find her cat.  She was getting discouraged when a brownish short hair cat (our cat had a long black fur) came by.  My mom bent down and asked "Who are you?"  (in Cantonese of course).  The cat replied "I'm Meh" in Cantonese.  My mom gave the cat a Chinese name although it also had an English name too.  So they had a quick and happy reunion.  The cat eventually had to say goodbye and returned to the other cats. 

Mom told me it's as if the cat wanted to tell her everything was fine and she shouldn't worry about the cat anymore.  I could see the cloud lifting off my mom and she did move on. 

It took me a few years to move on.  I see her in a lot of things I do - especially when I cook or when I look after my dad.  Her guiding hand is still there after all these years.

It's tough watching dad age.  He took a tumble the other day as we were walking from the parking lot to the restaurant.  He uses a cane but despises it.  He waves me off when I walk beside him and prefers to stay a couple of steps behind.  I slow down and he'll slow down.  So far it's been uneventful until the other day.  His foot caught on the edge of the curb and he fell.  I grabbed at him but it was too late already. 

He shrugged it off as if nothing happened.  Throughout dinner I asked if he was fine and he said he was.  He had a couple of scratches.   I checked with him a few days afterwards and he said there's no pain anywhere except his fingers are a bit stiff.  He reluctantly allows me to walk beside him now.  When I was checking his hands the other day, his fingers were gnarled - just like mom's was.  But he says there's no arthritic pain.  I don't believe him and wishes he wasn't so stoic about it.   

His appetite wasn't there when we had dinner the other night.   But it was the most he ate in several days.  After I got home from work yesterday, I made a minced beef with salted preserved vegetable, ginger and oyster sauce that was steamed over rice.   I took it over so he had some home cooked food the next day.  He seemed tired and was getting ready to sleep. 

Anyways... I'm just venting. 

I've been trying to get out of my Xmas funk and for the most part succeeding. I'll be cooking at my dad's place tonight and I hope it goes well. It's the first time I'm cooking for folks other than my dad and my sis. In reality though, the only thing I'm cooking at his place is the chow mein. The other dishes such as the soup and stew were cooked yesterday. I just have to add some wintermelon, pork meatballs and maybe some crabmeat to the soup today. The stew hopefully should have a deeper flavour after resting overnight. All I have to do is to add some green peas today.
The red bean soup with dried lily bulb and dried lotus seed is simmering right now. So it's a simple meal.

I used to marvel at Christmas, the sights, the carols, the gifts, the food - it was a great time for a kid. We had strange relatives that would come by the house. Since all our extended family back home were called aunts or uncles (even if they weren't) we had nicknames for them. There was the baker uncle, the dried salted fish aunt (she always brought us dried salted fish), the beautiful aunt (who always blushed when she heard we call her that but I think she secretly enjoyed it), the big breasted aunt (a term only my brother and I shared), the green truck uncle.... the list goes on.

While it's not just another day, it's a significant milestone in the calendar. In the past few years, I never knew what to get my parents and now my dad. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer - we didn't go overboard that year but she got things to make her more comfortable. My brother took a lot of pictures. Silently we knew that was very likely our last Christmas together. Outwardly we smiled and kept optimistic. The first Christmas without her was tough. I sat in the seat normally reserved for her in the dining room as we ate that meal. I know why she always chose that place, it was closest to the kitchen.

I'll likely be seating in the same place in our dining room. I will be able to see into the living room and the familiar chair she would sit in. I'll probably remember the Christmas meals we've had. If I start to get a bit teary eyed, I know I can quickly duck into the kitchen.