NOVEMBER 1 always brings me poignant thoughts. Maybe because death has been a recurring theme in my life. Allow me to delve into this feeling for this entry of Diary of a Mom With No Limits.
In 1993, I was a sophomore in Clarkstown North, New York. We were asked to do a literary review on works revolving a chosen theme. I chose the theme of “Death.” It was close to the time my Grand Aunt, who was like a mother to me, passed away. As I studied and interpreted compositions, like The Chimney Sweeper by William Blake, The Stone by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, and Eulogy for a Man from Jalostitlan by Rita Gutierrez-Christensen, it dawned on me how different deaths impacted me in different ways. I could not help but put the deepest pains in my life into writing….
When Lives Are Taken
A time elapsed
of life and knowledge
For me, that is,
for she has left
Towards an unknown place,
but a peaceful one, I hope.
So long for the restless nights
Where whom her stories were told
Dozing me to sleep
with thoughts of pasts to ponder
And with a sweet kiss she’d leave,
a star for me to keep.
Every night was a road
for us to travel and go by
Books were our guiding light
exploring the roots of our land
Then we’d go through culture
to preserve what she called ours.
Golds, silvers and bronzes…
fruits of our labor
The hard work in between…
foundations of our tower
And the dreams of the peak…
was the essence of our friendship.
But then a chaos had come to plague
ruining each cell of life
And breaking down each block
I was indignant
Few months…they said.
Why?…I replied.
She was fragile and alone
once tricked by love
And never again pursued
I was weak and so flustered
Yet the wheel turned slowly
and the pain shrieked even more
We were both helpless.
I saw her sleep
in a night never ending
I wept…I was selfish
For yes! The tears are for her slumber
But more
For my questioned future.
Now the room is lit
But why do I stand alone
Sako (Chinese term for Aunt)
Why have you gone?
Was there too much in life?
How I wish you’d come again,
just to hear what I have to say.
People die…
memories still linger…
Time will pass…
pain would stay bonded.
And though you have left…
I will be waiting.
After a few years, my grandfather also passed away. Two of the 3 pillars of my childhood had gone much sooner than I expected. I missed them so much. At different points in my young life, I would stay up till 3 am daily because I felt life would be short for me. I reflected: “Maybe sometimes when you lose a person you love, it seems the reason for living is lost and the only way to find peace is to die and maybe find them in the next life.”
Death is not just physical death. It has also been for me the exceptionally painful end of something. It can be the end of a relationship, familial relations, even the end of a dream.
I have had my share of heartaches. In all these sorrows, art was my balm and writing was my refuge. This was when I donned my “colored lenses” and rummaged to find a hue in darkness. Below is a poem I wrote amid the uncertainty of a long-distance relationship with my first love at that time.
When, Where and How
Carry my burden
Carry my soul
To which direction do we go?
Hiding to keep
Hiding of fear
How long must we live to appease?
If I were to stay
And you were to leave
Would not tomorrow be too vague to see?
I have been loved
And you have, too
So why must we spend
Our days so apart?
Fast forward to the past decade, I faced the end of our immediate family. I remember telling myself every day, and praying hard that experiencing such deep deceit must not change my view, that “life is and will always be good.”
It dawned on me why I always loved the moon more than the sun. Like the painting I did above in my 20s, the moon shines brightly and is at peace. As much as the moon marks the end of a day, it also allows me to appreciate new beginnings better.
Letting Go
Wandring amidst
the field of dreams
The piercing hurts
I went forth
Looking back
I had wept
T’was a shadow I saw
I wished
If I were to soar,
what was the price?
My sweet, my smiles, my soul?
It is futile.
Yearning rambles my psyche…
screens of the past
Fail to set free…
I must let go
Amid all the “deaths,” I appreciate more now how I allowed the pain, the memories, the hopes and the regrets to seep through. I thank God for His providential hand and His loving grace that pushed me to find my colored lenses. For in facing the death of my loved ones, I discovered my quest for “worthy transcendence.” In facing loving goodbyes, I found the gift of the pen. And in facing painful ends, I landed on my meaningful purpose.
Death comes to us more often than we see. As hard as it is to break through the pain, if we are willing to use our colored lenses, we will come out appreciating an even “deepened” color of our lives.
Like my clay-and-wax artwork above, the black darkness and the yellow light are parts of a cycle of life. It is a convergence of providence and choice. Even if we cannot control the “deaths,” it is still our choice when to flip the circle.