Saturday Chatter (#NaBloPoMo)

Posted on November 9, 2024 by hafong

Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since my mother left this earth. I’m not sure it feels real yet. When I wake in the morning, I feel a vacuum in my heart. It leaves me breathless, grasping at straws. How does one fill the space? How is one suppose to proceed? Not having a handbook to go by, I have to find my own way.

I proceed as usual, according to my motto by Regina Brett – No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up. It’s a good way to start the day. Since I am not one for punishment, I’m working on ways to comfort and ease myself through this period of mourning. I find it restful to sit with my cuppa in silence and the morning darkness. Then I went through the 18 movements of a qigong practice I had started years ago. They’ve been neglected for a long while. They came back after a couple of days. Pain and suffering called them back.

Sometimes it is hard to go out in the world. I am unsure and jittery just stepping out of the house. I do it anyways. It is hard backing the car out of the garage. It is hard to drive it anywhere. My nerves are raw. I talk them down. My senses are altered. I take it slower. But it is good for me to venture forth this morning, to meet my dear friends for breakfast. They are the glue that holds me together.

My guy is the other glue. We went to see an art exhibit in the afternoon. It would be hard for me to navigate a crowd on my own. The art collection was by my art instructor. Her work is beautiful. She’s so talented and such a good teacher. She’s also very warm, kind and generous. The show was at the art store where we feel a small part of its community. It was all good for my soul.

Thursday (#NaBloPoMo)

Posted on November 7, 2024 by hafong

You can tell I’m tired and uninspired by the title of this post. I haven’t really realized what a mess I am and what a mess I’m in till the last few days. I woke up and saw everything after my mother died. These past weeks were busy taking care of the business of her passing. I was surviving on adrenaline.

Now I have to get into the business of my own life. I haven’t thought about that for a long time, that I had a separate life. There was just the 2 of us for the first 6 years of my life. My parents married when they were one month shy of 18. They were still babies in an arranged marriage. My father was still going to school. That was how it was in China then. When I was 2, my father immigrated to Canada. I had no memories of him during those 2 years.

I did not meet him till I was 6 when my mother and I reunited with him in Hong Kong. He stayed for a year. My sister was conceived and born. I have no memories of my father during that time either except that I was reprimanded for not calling this stranger ‘father’. My sister was almost 2 when we joined him in Canada.

My mother did not know English. Being in a small town in Saskatchewan there were little resources in learning for immigrants back in those days. My father was busy in the cafe earning a living for us. My mother had no one to talk to except me. So that is how I became my mother’s confidante. She was a very good story teller. The times she lived through had many stories. Her family had a very interesting history. I heard them all and more besides. I am sure I became part of my mother with all her feelings of hope, happiness but fears and anxieties as well.

Now comes the challenging part for me – to unravel all of that and put them to rest. I need to to do that to find myself and my own life.

COME SEPTEMBER

Posted on September 3, 2014 by hafong

September is here. I have signed up for the NaBloPoMo again, only to find my words have disappeared. I am restless, fussing turning and bothering people in general. I am distressed and lost in my desert without an idea or words. How am I going to write about healing? It is such a good theme. What a time to get the stutters!

I fret, pace, wring my hands. I sigh, huff and puff to no avail. I take to the garden, wandering here, there – pulling weeds and looking at the summer’s effort. You can certainly say the tomato beds have ran away on me. The plants are toppling over and strangling each other with the weight of the fruits and foliage. More is not always better. Live and learn. There’s always next year.

It is now getting late in the evening. I am not any less fretful. The words are not coming any easier. They do not fall from my fingertips like water from a leaky tap. Music jangles my nerves. Talk does not help. Perhaps a cup of tea.

Do you have days/nights like this? Experience has taught me not to fuss too much, as if I can help that. It’s best to stay put and ride out the waves. Don’t go on a serious shopping trip. Don’t get your hair cut. Don’t bother calling anyone. Usually they are not home. Even if they are, the conversation leaves you feeling worse than before. I try to stay off the bicycle, too. I have fear of falling.

My cup of Chai is working its magic. I feel a slight ease in my chest. My fingers are losing their stutter across the keyboard. Breathe! I tell myself. Relax those shoulders. Unfurl the eyebrows. Move those fingers across the keyboard. Forget about profundity. Just get the words out. Do not worry about grammar and tenses. The night is not young. You can do better tomorrow. You have done your best today. It is enough.

THE DECADES OF MY LIFE

Posted on July 30, 2014 by hafong

It’s the end of July. The theme for this month on NaBloPoMo has been DECADES and today’s prompt:

What has been your best decade thus far: Your teens? Your twenties? Your thirties or forties or beyond?

There are no ‘best’ decades for me. Each period brings its joys and sorrows. I cannot remember a time free of angst or empty of happiness. You cannot have one without the other, as the song goes.

I felt isolation in my teens, though I didn’t know it as such at the time. We were one of only three Chinese families in our small town of 600. My father and his cousin ran the Chinese cafe in town. My mother knew no English. We did not socialize nor participate in community activities outside of the cafe or school.

I had school friends but I always yearned for connection with other Chinese people my age. I guess that was why I took the Greyhound Bus by myself to Winnipeg at 17. My desire was that strong that it overcame any kind of fear of going to a big city to stay with people I barely knew.

My 20s was full of confusion and turmoil, fighting for identity and independence. I dropped out of university, worked as a waitress, went to business school, became a steno, got fired from my first job as such. I got a better job at the Dept. of Indian and Northern Affairs. I left the job after 2 years to take nurses training. Got married and failed at that shortly after. Whew!

Those were my most memorable decades – the young years of growing and learning and becoming. How could I have ever done anything differently, not knowing the how of life? How could any of us? But I felt the pain of every sling and arrow of failure and disappointment. When did I learned to doubt and beat up on myself with the should have’s and could have’s?

My 30s and after are a distant blur, much like the stories of my life as a nurse. There’s not even any threads to grab onto. They are like the will-‘o-the wisp. Perhaps, with more unwinding and breathing out, they will come back to me. Then, there will be stories to be told.

I am content, finding more peace in the now decade. I have gained some wisdom. That’s no small thing. Looking back, I see that I have done remarkably well. I have lived life with confidence and adventure even when I was afraid. I have done the best I could.

NO COMMENT

Posted on June 5, 2014 by hafong

Thursday, June 5, 2014
Are there any comment sections online that you refuse to read?

I’m sitting here with my glass of wine, my inkwell is dry. My fingers silent. Nothing much to say. It’s been this kind of day. Right now I don’t feel that strongly about anything. I would have to say no to the above question.

The day has been gloomy, cool and rainy. Not the kind that brings a smile to my face and a spring to my step. Not all days are equal. That is the truth and I have to accept it. Into life, some rain has to fall. But I do have my protective purple umbrella and my Wonder Woman suit. Zap! Kapow! KaBoom! I’m warding off bad energy.

Wish that my Wonder Woman act could come alive and save the world. But meanwhile out there….bad things are still happening. A 24 year old man in Moncton, New Brunswick has killed 3 RCMP officers and wounded 2 more. He is still out at large.

I am feeling all that and perhaps more – a sense of helplessness and perhaps hopelessness. How does things like this happen? And I have no answer or comment.

OF PROMPTS, COMMENTS & OTHER THINGS

Posted on June 4, 2014 by hafong

Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Have you ever deleted a comment? What would make you delete a comment?

I have not ever deleted a comment from my blog. No wait, I have – spams, comments that have nothing to do with my posts. That answers the second question, doesn’t it? I would delete spams and hateful, rude, attacking, etc. comments.

And why not? There’s no discussion in those kinds of comments. They do not gender connection or helping each other out. They do not build positive outcome. There! Now let’s get on with the rest of the day.

We had a beautiful bike ride with Sheba in tow this morning. The streets were peaceful and quiet. The sky was overcast but the sun came out as we were riding out. There’s something about the early mornings that calm your soul.

I have finished planting the last of my tomatoes and onions. I am feeling happy with my gardening efforts. The tomatoes are looking great. The Sunberry is blooming. Will I be baking Sunberry pies this year? The onions, radishes, lettuce, kale and kohlrabi are all showing up. How splendid they look!

I got caught in the afternoon rain. Once I was wet, there was no need to hurry any more. I was past the point of “keeping dry”. The only dry part was my head, thanks to my hat. I hung it on my new shoe rack on the deck, along with my pants. No, I did not have my umbrella with me.

But all is well. The rain is gone and the sun is shining brightly on this mixed bag of a Wednesday.

WHO OWNS WHAT?

Posted on June 3, 2014 by hafong

Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Who owns the comment section: the blog writer or the blog readers?

It’s Tuesday. It’s sunny and warm. I am tired and cranky. Sheba is underfoot. Do I have anything to say about the above prompt?

In the real world, we ~~own~~ are responsible for whatever we do or say. But what about in Blogsville or FaceBook or other social media? That’s a little tougher.

I don’t have any rules about commenting. I rely on WordPress to do its thing about filtering spams, etc. I’m not quite up on the ins and outs of all this stuff even though I’ve been blogging for over a year.

So far, I haven’t attracted a lot of traffic, followers or comments. But I am happy with what I have. I appreciate my readers, their likes and comments. So far I haven’t angered or offended anyone. But then what I blog about doesn’t generate those kinds of responses.

However, I have been in an email group where people do get their emotions aroused over politics, religion and sometimes nothing. The exchange could get personal and nasty, even though there was a rule about the delete button. In the end I and many others had to leave the group.

In light of the experience, I say whoever has control of the delete button ( the writer) owns the comment section. I appreciate comments that help me to become a better writer. I appreciate respectful differences of opinion. But I do not want to be viciously and personally attacked. If I can wiggle my nose and push the delete button and pooof, I would do it! Wouldn’t you?

onethousandandtwo

Looking at Infinity

Tag Archives: NaBloPoMo