Reflections.......

"It is not so difficult to see that, in our particular world, we all have a strong desire to accomplish something. Some of us think in terms of great dramatic changes in the structure of our society. Others want at least to build a house, write a book, invent a machine, or win a trophy. And some of us seem to be content when we just do something worthwhile for someone. But practically all of us think about ourselves in terms of our contribution to life. And when we have become old, much of our feelings of happiness or sadness depend on our evaluation of the part we played in giving shape to our world and its history....... But although the desire to be useful can be a sign of mental and spiritual health in our goal-orientated society, it can also become the source of a paralyzing lack of self-esteem. More often than not, we not only desire to do meaningful things, but we often make the results of our work the criteria of our self-esteem. And then we not only have successes, we become our successes....... When we start being too impressed by the results of our work, we slowly come to the erroneous conviction that life is one large scoreboard where someone is listing the points to measure our worth. And before we are fully aware of it, we have sold our soul to the many grade-givers. That means we are not only in the world, but of the world. Then we become what the world makes us. We are intelligent because someone gives us a high grade. We are helpful because someone says thanks. We are likable because someone likes us. And we are important because someone considers us indispensable. In short, we are worthwhile because we have successes. And the more we allow our accomplishments- the results of our actions- to become the criteria of our self-esteem, the more we are going to walk on our mental and spiritual toes, never sure if we will be able to live up to the expectations which we created by our last successes. In many people's lives, there is a nearly diabolical chain in which their anxieties grow according to their successes....... In this success- orientated world, our lives become more and more dominated by superlatives. We brag about the highest tower, the fastest runner, the tallest man, the longest bridge, and the best student....... But underneath all our emphasis on successful action, many of us suffer from a deep-seated, low self-esteem and are walking around with the constant fear that someday someone will unmask the illusion and show that we are not as smart, as good, or as lovable as the world was made to believe.......This nagging self-doubt is the basis of so much depression in the lives of many people who are struggling in our competitive society. Moreover, this corroding fear for the discovery of our weaknesses prevents community and creative sharing. When we have sold our identity to the judges of the world, we are bound to become restless because of a growing need for affirmation and praise. Indeed, we are tempted to become low-hearted because of a constant self-rejection. And we are in serious danger of becoming isolated, since friendship and love are impossible without a mutual vulnerability....... And so, when our actions have become more an expression of fear than of inner freedom, we easily become the prisoners of our self-created illusions."
-Out of Solitude, Henri J M Nouwen

It was Mother's Day recently. I was feeling a little down because papa felt a little sad. He didn't say much, but I could feel it in him. This coincides with another significant milestone in papa's healing journey. We spent two nights staying at our home this month. It wasn't easy. Papa was nervous just thinking of sleeping in the same bed that they used to share. The concentrated raw memories of the bonds they forged together in this home were as fresh as the night I was born. The love of his life, no longer by his side. A house with two where there should have been three. He is afraid to face the unknown without mummy's reassuring presence. He grieves for her loss like a blind artist would for his gift of sight. The inability to share his innermost joys and dreams, no one to wipe away his tears and console his fears. It isn't just the memories that linger, but the debris of a lost future together that is so choking and suffocating.
He has been looking towards me in the hope of gaining some courage. If only I could talk. I would tell him that he will be ok with mummy and me by his side. Mummy, if you are out there, cradle papa in your arms and whisper in his ears the soothing melodies of your interwoven hearts. Grant him peace.

What will
our children do in the morning?

Will they wake with their hearts wanting to play,
the way wings should?

Will they have dreamed the needed flights and gathered
the strength from the planets that all
men and women need to balance
the wonderful charms of
the earth

So that her power and beauty does not make us forget our own?

I know all about the ways of the heart – how it wants to be alive.

Love so needs to love
that it will endure almost anything, even abuse,
just to flicker for a moment. But the sky’s mouth is kind,
its song will never hurt you, for I sing those words.

What will our children do in the morning
if they do not see us
fly?

-Rumi, The Way Things Should (D Ladinsky)

Everyone at home is recovering from a bad cough bug. That includes me. But I seem to be recovering faster than papa. Nonetheless, I still have a good appetite and my spirits have not been dampened very much.

We went to see my physiotherapist, Aunty Laura a few weeks ago. She was happy with what she saw me doing. She agrees with Dr Phua that I have been making steady progress with my motor skills, and that this is a good sign for the future. She feels that I only need to see her every six weeks now to check on my progress. I will miss her sessions- she is bubbly and caring, not to mention that she has so many fun things to play with!

Papa has taken some leave from his work this month to spend time with me. We spent some time at the Assisi Home last week to donate the money that was collected during my birthday. In all, we will be donating four thousand dollars to the Children's Palliative Care programme for the terminally ill. Three thousand of which was kindly donated by family and friends on my very first birthday. I hope that these children will not suffer too much during their short journey with us, and that they will be as happy as can be. Mummy, help to care for them when they leave us to join you. Help take care of them as you would me.

Oh we never know where life will take us
I know it's just a ride on the wheel
And we never know when death will shake us
And we wonder how it will feel

Life's so fragile and love's so pure
We can't hold on but we try
We watch how quickly it disappears
And we never know why

So goodbye my friend
I know I'll never see you again
But the time together through all the years
Will take away these tears...

-Karla Bonoff, Goodbye My Friend, 1988.

I had my appointment to see Uncle Phua today. He says that I am doing well. A little delayed with the motor skills, but nothing too worrying. He sounded positive and encouraging.

Papa has noticed that I have met another milestone in the last few days. I have started to pull myself up to a squatting position on my knees, and am able to pull myself up onto low tables. I have brought smiles to my loved ones when I pull myself up to the railings of my cot, and have even started some basic 'coasting' around its sides. My legs aren't that strong and steady yet, but I am body-building every day. Soon my muscles will be bigger than papa's. Not.

Day 2 of my medications, and my wet nose is getting better. I am not cured yet, but at least I don't splutter and cough so much when I feed. 3 of the medicines are dissolved in my milk. They think I don't know, but I do. The antibiotic is being syringed into my mouth as I wriggle in protest twice a day. The pangs of growing up.

I have been having a persistent wet nose since my last illness. It is causing me to choke badly when ever I have my milk or meals. Papa says it is dripping from my nose to the back of my throat. Which is what is causing my phlegmy chesty cough. The gurgling noises from my nose sound like I am blowing bubbles at the back of my throat. The wetness is dripping inside and seeping outside. My Aunty Elena has prescribed a course of antihistamines, antibiotics and something to loosen the phlegm. They are hoping that a five day intensive course of medication will banish the wetness. Papa says that I have turned out to be one allergic baby indeed. I pray my nose will dry up soon. It is making me feel tired.

We travelled north to Johor, Malaysia over the Good Friday holidays. An hour's boat ride from Singapore's east coast on a warm Thursday afternoon, got us to an old secluded boating resort by a large river. It was three days of close living and papa had the exclusive honor of feeding, bathing and changing me. I am happy to report that we survived! I was also glad that he was fully occupied with caring for me- it was a necessary distraction from those significantly sad few days. As it turned out, we had a rather lazy few days eating, sleeping and swimming. I was given my first taste of Malaysian water too! Swimming pool water that is. Papa gave me my first dunking underwater. It was fun, but the water did taste funny. My aunties and uncles that accompanied us on the holiday helped papa to celebrate my birthday with an alfresco candle-lit dinner by the river side. There was even a cake with my name on it. After dinner, we launched paper boats with candles in them onto the still dark river. It was a symbolic gesture in remembrance of mummy, hoping that our love represented by the bright candles would find her somewhere along the dark rivers of eternity.

I have also recently had my twelve month checkup with Uncle Simon. He was generally pleased with my progress, and even though I still haven't learned to walk yet, he is optimistic that I will get there in due course. I now weigh 8.4kg and stand 77cm tall. No jabs this time around, but there will be at least two coming up in three months time. I am praying that I will have learned to run by then! Everyone says that I am starting to be more assertive lately. I can whinge and whine with the best of them and am very focussed about what I want. I can even play hide and seek using my blanket with the people around me. No wonder papa is looking increasingly exhausted around me. Mummy, I pray that you are safe and surrounded by the warmth of love just as I am. Where ever you may be.

I find an old photograph
and see your smile.
As I feel your presence anew,
I am filled with warmth
and my heart remembers love.

I read an old card
sent many years ago
during a time of turmoil and confusion.
The soothing words written then
still caress my spirit and bring me peace.

I remember your sweet voice,
The reassuring tones,
The melodies and perfect pitch,
The joyousness and passion,
Guides my soul to a higher plane

I remember who you used to be
the laughter we shared
and wonder what you have become.
Where are you now, Where did you go,
When the body is left behind
and the spirit is released to fly?

Perhaps you are the morning bird
singing joyfully at sunrise,
or the butterfly that dances
so carelessly on the breeze
or the rainbow of colors
that brightens a stormy sky
or the fingers of afternoon mist
delicately reaching over the mountains
or the final few rays of the setting sun
lighting up the skies
edging the clouds with a magical glow.

I miss your being
but I feel your presence,
In whatever form you choose to take,
however you now choose to be.

-One year has passed and you continue to be deeply missed and loved by your 'Bunny' Colin.

Mummy Darling we'll be alright,

We'll be good. Promise.
When you see us together,
Send us a kiss in the wind,
And a song in our hearts,
Whisper to us, "I love you",
We'll know it's you. Always.
We'll be waiting. Wait for us too.
We love you so much.

-Evan Gabriel & papa

Papa and I will be taking a short vacation away together over the Good Friday. See you all soon when we get back.

I am surrounded by so many,
But not by you, for that life is desperately lonely,
I am showered with abundant love
But not by you, for that I feel the utter despair,
I am blessed with a child,
But not with you, for that we share the emptiness.
For such is the torment of a crowded loneliness.

-CO.sg

Mummy's birthday loved and remembered: 2nd of April was mummy's birthday. Papa brought me to the Niche of Saint Collette in the Church of Saint Mary's, where mummy's remains are buried. Some close friends were with us to lend support. We said a prayer and sang a song for her. There was much reverence and heartfelt sorrow lingering in the damp air. As we lit the 'birthday candles' for her, I felt mummy in the wind as she blew them out from where she was. A gentle gust on a still evening filled with her love as if to say, "I am here with you". Mummy dearest, papa says that now you are in Heaven, you will never grow old. You cannot imagine how much we all miss you. Wait for us. Happy Birthday Mummy Dearest.

Love is reckless; not reason.

Reason seeks a profit.

Love comes on strong,

consuming herself, unabashed.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,

Love proceeds like a millstone,

hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,

she risks everything and asks for nothing.

Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

Without cause God gave us Being;

without cause, give it back again.

-Rumi

Navigating through the rough waters of life- I am glad to have survived my first year...


Mummy made it look so easy...

We celebrated my First Birthday Sunday last. I am but one year young! It wasn't my actual birth date, which falls on the 6th of April, but papa had his reasons for wanting to celebrate it earlier. It was a celebration with close friends and family in the grounds of mummy's old parish, St Ignatius Church. The proximity to the priests' quarters would mean they would have an easier time attending the party. Father O'Neil who baptised me was there to offer a blessing before the party began. This Church was like a second home to mummy for most of her wonderful life and the location was meaningful and appropriate.

In lieu of birthday presents this year, papa had requested that friends and family donate to the Assisi Hospice- a Catholic welfare charity that takes care of the sick and needy. The money would be directed to a section of the Hospice, the Paediatric Palliative Care Programme. This recently implemented plan is directed at the care of children with terminal illnesses.

The party was fun. We had candy floss, popcorn, balloons and clowns. I managed to stay awake most of the afternoon. Everyone had lots of fun. It was a party to remember indeed.

Papa would like to thank all the kind souls that donated to the Assisi Hospice. In total, almost three thousand dollars was raised for this worthy mission. Papa imagines that mummy will be smiling with approval at all the generous donors. Thank you all for making my First Birthday that much more meaningful, and for helping to lift these children for whom life will be but a painful short journey.

The most difficult time of the year for mummy's loved ones has arrived. Papa has succumbed to a more sombre mood lately. It is the week of painful anniversaries and resurrected memories. Papa has started calling it his annual week of mourning. The 2nd of April (Monday) would have been mummy's birthday. The 6th of April (which happens to be Good Friday this year) is the first anniversary of her going to heaven. It is also my birthday. Papa has taken leave from work this week to be with me as we remember and honor mummy's love. Time has failed to erode the pain. Papa has been trying hard to prepare tributes for mummy in memoriam for this week's newspaper publication. So far there have been more tears than words pouring forth. The sadness welling up from within belies the passage of time and superficial healing.

Papa misses her more than life itself.

I'm back on my feet!

I feel great today. Despite still having a slight rash around my legs and arms. The rashes around my back, abdomen and face are almost gone. More importantly my mood is back to it's usual self. I am once again chirpy and smiley. Papa says his 'Mr Sunshine' has returned after five nasty days. I am rearing to go and eager to catch up with the world once again.

Fever Update Day 5: The fever broke late yesterday. In its place, little red spots have started popping up all over my body. So it was a viral infection after all. The doctors call it exanthem subitum or roseola infantum. My Aunty Elena says that this is normal, and marks the end stages of the viral infection. Thankfully, it is also not the kind of rash associated with Dengue fever. Papa now calls me his 'incy-wincy pokka dotted pinky baby'. The worst is over thankfully.

Fever Day 4, afternoon update: Things are looking a little brighter this afternoon. The urine test results were negative, which means that I do not have a urine infection. Added to that, my fever has subsided this afternoon. So papa is holding back the medicines until it is necessary. Everyone has their fingers crossed that the fever will not come back. My condition tonight will be telling. Papa is heaving a much relished sigh of relief for the moment.

Fever Day 4, morning update: Papa skipped work today to be with me. The fever unfortunately has not subsided. At 7am today, it was still spiking up to the 39degC range without the medicines. Papa brought me to see uncle Simon at Mount Alvernia Hospital this morning. Uncle Simon did a full physical examination. He too is not sure what it is at the moment. I will be having my urine tested for infections. He has also prescribed some strong antibiotic medication for later should the high fever trend continue. The only thing we can do now is to contain the high temperatures and to keep me hydrated. I am feeling more miserable and tired. My appetite is worse and my body is aching. I wish this would all go away. Papa says that I have to be strong and fight to get better, like I have always done. I hope that I will be well before my first birthday which is just around the corner. Pray for me mummy.