#37 of late

Dear friend, 

It's been a while. Sorry that I have not been keeping in touch. I could give you a whole range of reasons why - but the truth is, it simply hasn't been on my mind. 

What's new? Oh, nothing much. Managed to finish reading a few good books, met up with some old friends. Oh yes, I have a son now. How about that for a life changer eh? I named him Jonathan. He's a handsome little boy. Has his mothers eyes. I've never been particularly fond of babies. I've been known to call babies ugly or uncute when I see one. I call it being honest. Others call it being mean. But when I look at him, my son, I swear - he's the most beautiful thing I've ever set my eyes upon. It's probably a parent's bias, but seriously, he's the cutest boy on earth. Jen tells me she's seeing a whole new side of me she's never seen before. I think she likes making me change diapers. 

I realize that babies have a certain effect on people. People are drawn to babies. It makes them smile and warms their heart just gazing upon a baby. Every time one of my friends holds our newborn, a certain tenderness can be seen in their eyes. A nurturing, loving attitude automatically comes forth when a baby is in your arms. Personally, I start to understand first hand what it means to have a father's heart. I feel in my own heart, the kind of love that you heart people say parents have for their children. When I stare into his eyes and see him staring back into mine with not so much as a blink, my heart melts. Staring at you is pure innocence, in the form of your own flesh and blood. I know there isn't anything I wouldn't do to protect this child. Maybe that's what Jen sees when I'm holding him in my arms. 

Another things I have noticed. With the arrival of Jonathan, some friends have become closer to us, while others seem to become more distant. I cannot say why this is so. Only that it is. Some friends visited or called immediately, eager to catch up on all the details, share in the joy and shower the little one with all sorts of gifts. But others seem to deliberately stay away or distance themselves. Even some that I used to consider close and intimate friends - stay far far away, extending nothing more than a one line facebook comment. It makes me sad it a way. I've never been one to have many friends. The few that I have, I try to cherish. You invest time, effort and care into the friendship, hoping that it builds into something meaningful and lasting. But not all reciprocate it. Honestly, I do feel used sometimes. People like seeking me out when they have problems. They share with me, perhaps hoping that I would be able to give them some sort of insight to help them. For the most part, I love listening and caring for them. It makes me feel close, wanted and cherished by them. I never want them to stop sharing with me. But sometimes, just sometimes - I wish they'd look for me, not just when they have problems, but also when they have some joy to share. I want to be your friend, not your on call counsellor. 

Anyway, enough from me for now dear friend. I started writing a letter to my son - things my heart is bursting to tell him whenever I look into his innocent eyes.. It's unfinished. It's been taking me longer that I expected. But I'll let you read it when its ready. 

#35 Daddyhood Doubts

Many people have asked me how I feel now that I am on the brink of fatherhood. These 9 months have flown by in what seems like both an eternity and a blink of an eye.  I must say honestly, I’m not really sure. There is a mix of joy and anxiety, happiness and fear. Last night sitting there with my wife, I realized that this would be the last few times we could sit like this - peaceful and quiet, just the two of us. By next week, everything will be different.

A little baby will be born into this world. Half me, half her. Will he have my eyes? Will he have her nose? Will he be serious like me, or cheerful like her? Will he be obedient and gentle? Or will he be willful and loud? It feels exciting waiting for all these things to unfold.  Many couples have said they spend hours staring at their firstborns with love and wonder. I joked with my wife – we’d probably be no different. All parents think their child is possibly the cutest baby ever to be born on earth. Obviously, they haven’t seen ours yet.  

Thinking about my impending fatherhood has made me think a lot about my own father and my relationship with him. Now that I am older, I see many of the strengths and flaws that had made my father who is, and how that affected me. I used to think the world of my father when I was young. He was charming, well spoken, and witty and seemed infinitely wiser. In many of the things that happened to our family, I always felt that it was other people – the bad guys – that did this things to us. I saw my father as a benevolent, noble character. When I grew a bit older, I realized that my father wasn’t as innocent as I first thought. He did things that were less than noble. He cheated, he lied and he abused. I resented him and blamed him for all the heartache we faced growing up.

And then I grew up some more and learned a bit more – things aren’t always so simple. My father wasn’t noble, nor was he evil. He was flawed, along with everyone around him. The world is broken - things don’t work the way they should, people don’t behave the way they should. As much as we try to do the good that is in us, we fail. It didn’t take away or excuse him from all the wrong that he did in his life, but it did take away whatever anger I felt towards him. In fact, the more mistakes I made it my own life, the more reluctant I became to pass any judgment on him.

Many of his strengths I hope to replicate with my son. Many of his flaws, I see in myself - and I fear how it will affect my son. Am I up to the task? Will I be a good father? Will I make the same mistakes my father did? Or will I do worse? Will I have the wisdom to raise this child well?

 Can a man who doubts his own goodness raise a child to be a good man? 

#34 This Christmas

It felt strange watching my cousin cry. I had never seen it before. For all the years that I have known him, I had never seen him openly show so much love and affection to his mother like this, now that she was dying. He stroked her cheeks, talking to her, trying to explain to her that we were there to visit.

Just weeks earlier, I had stood by my aunts side watching her cry as she lamented to my father about how she couldn’t use her left hand anymore. Now she couldn’t walk, talk or eat. The cancer in her brain had done its worst in the last few weeks.

A few feet away, sat my wife heavily pregnant with our son. It’s just a matter of weeks before she’s due for labor. My cousin tells me it’d be a great achievement if my aunt could even make it to the New Year. He and his brother have made all the necessary funeral arrangements the weekend before. The same weekend I was busy setting up the baby cot in my room.

My father stayed silent the entire time. He had talked for many weeks about wanting to visit my aunt. But he never did until now. He said his feet and heart were heavy. He said it was hard for him to take what was going on around him. The last time we visited her, he wept silently in the back seat of the car. I made a remark to him - he seemed a lot sadder this time compared to when my grandmother was dying. Perhaps more than my aunts’ life, he was thinking about his own. He had been a very pensive mood of late. Just because we are all destined to die doesn’t make it any easier to take.

I had spent the previous Sunday night talking to my mother for hours. I found out that she too was fearful for her life. She said she wanted to live well past her sixties, but the medication we were making her to take was killing her – so she claims. She wants to move away, live on her own, get a job if possible and taper off her medicine. Her children could not be trusted to take care of her she felt. It hurt a lot to hear those words. Even if I didn’t agree with it, I had to respect that this is how she felt. And so I kept my silence.

After the visit, my brother came up to me and said “I’ve always been very bad at these things…I can never find the right things to say”.

I said to him “I don’t think there ever is a right thing to say in such times. I think being there itself speaks for itself.”

It is very likely that the next time I see my aunt, she will be laying not on a bed but in a coffin.

If that sounds awfully harsh and blunt, it is only because death is like that too. It comes when and how it chooses to. Sometimes slowly like a tree withering away, sometimes abruptly like a trap door under you. Either way, it comes, and there is no refusing.

It’s days away from Christmas. Churches gear up for celebrations, families prepare hearty dinners and people exchange gifts with one another enthusiastically. I find myself in a cocktail of feelings. Sad over the ending of one life, and happy over the start of another. And the rest of us, squarely in between.

Thank you God for the gift of Christmas. It Christ we have mercy unsurpassed, hope everlasting, love supreme. May the world be reminded of this on Christmas day.

Merry Christmas everyone.

#32 Impending Fatherhood

I have been asked many times if the reality of impending fatherhood has finally set in for me.

I suppose it has in some ways, but also not quite in others.

My life isn't really THAT different today compared to when we first heard the good news. I go to work at the same time, I come home the same time, I do the same things, I visit the same places and I see the same people. The only real difference is the occasional visit the the doctors, and of course the constant reminders from other people about all the things I need to do for the coming of the baby.

I know in my head that fatherhood is coming, but as my wife pointed out - the full reality of it probably won't sink in until I'm holding the baby in my arms. I learned somewhere that when a father holds his baby for the very first time, he unconsciously but instinctively looks for features of the child that resembles him. A very primitive way for a father to verify that it is indeed his offspring. Moms don't do this because, well.... it freaking came out of her belly so of course it's hers.

But there have been a few moments where things really sink in, where I felt my heart soften and become overwhelmed with a sense of warmth and expectation.

One of it was when I went for the first ultrasound examination when the baby was just 8 weeks old. Of course I had no idea what I was staring at on the screen, but as the doctor finally started to point out the heart - I felt it. I starred in silence and awe at that tiny little heart, not even the size of a peanut - and it was beating. It was alive and it was part of me. Over the next few months, I continued feeling awestruck every time I looked at the ultrasound screen, watching the baby grow bigger and bigger at amazing rate.

Then one day while I was still overseas, I got a text from my wife "I felt the baby kick today. So cute. I think he misses you too.. :) " At that moment too - I felt it. I'm pretty sure the baby didn't really miss me. But it was a sweet thought from her, and a notion I was more than happy to accept.

Am I ready to be a father? Can't say I am. I guess I'll get there eventually. I do have 4 more months to prepare!

Cheers!

#26 Daddy To Be

It was the first time I had ever felt my hands trembling in such a way. I couldn’t be sure if it was out of fear, excitement or anxiety. But I held her hand to mind, leaned my head forward so that our foreheads touched, and we prayed.

“Thank you Lord. Thank you for answering our prayers. Thank you for showing us that you are a God that listens to his people. Thank you for this blessing. Thank you for this child that you have given us…”

I’m about to become a father.

Ever since the day we found out, my other hand has surely but steadily been showing stronger symptoms of pregnancy. We haven’t gone to the doctors for a first consultation yet. Hopefully all we go well. All this uncertainty has been quite nerve wrecking. We went to the bookshop to buy a few books on pregnancy. She picked one book – What To Expect When You are Expecting. It’s comprehensive, detailed and really something all first time mothers should read. Truly a good book. Me? In typical fashion I picked an equally good one – Pregnancy For Dummies. It’s simple, easily digestible, and really something all first time all dummies fathers need to read.

“How do you feel now?” my wife asked me the other day.

“Normal I guess… “ I replied.

“Maybe you’ll feell more anxious when the bump starts to show?” she asked.

As if I wasn’t anxious enough as it is.

I have been anxious lately. Not just about the pregnancy. But also about parenthood. Now that the initial excitement is over, I find myself having to plan for a the arrival of a tiny little human being that will depend on me for the next 18 (or so) years for food, shelter, education and nappy changes.

My thoughts turn to my own parents for guidance. But my father has moved to the Philippines to live his own life, and my mother is sitting in the psychiatric ward.  It does feel like my wife and I are going to have to just wing it.

Will we be good parents? Will I be a good father? Am I ready for this? Will we be able to manage? Will there be enough? Do we know how to teach our children? Will they be sick? Will they inherit any medical problems? I guess I’ll just have to find out over time.

We went to the doctors office a few days after we found out. After a few minutes of chatting, we proceeded to do the ultrasound.

Looking at the monitor, the doctor was describing to us what this little dot and that little dot was. The baby had a heart now, and it was beating. He turned up the volume on the scanner, and for the first time in my life I heard the heartbeat of my own flesh and blood. It was then that reality hit me with all its might.

I’m about to be a father. 

#25 An Admission

I admitted my mother into hospital today.

It broke my heart looking into her eyes - sensing the sense of fear, disappointment and betrayal as she looked silently at me. Maybe she knew it was inevitable. Maybe she hoped we wouldn’t do it. Maybe she trusted that we wouldn’t. But we did. We walked her down the long corridor, up the stairs and into the psychiatric ward – a place she vowed she never ever wanted to come to again.

It can be very hard caring for a mother with schizophrenia. Mental illness is not something most people readily understand like diabetes, cancer or heart diseases. It is an invisible illness that shadows the sufferer and their family at all times. Even when medication is taken and all is normal, the effects of the illness is ever present. The sufferer and their family are acutely aware of it at all times. Side effects from the medication manifest – twitching, restlessness, involuntary movements, inability to concentrate, dullness, inattentiveness – all oddities of behavior to the untrained eyed. But to the sufferer and their families, it is an ever reminder that psychiatric drugs are at work.

My mother was admitted today because she went into a relapse. She had not bathed herself for days. She had not been sleeping well, eating properly or talking normally. She couldn’t hold a proper conversation, had unexplained and erratic mood swings and had severe flight of thoughts. We tried giving her the medication in the doses the doctor recommended, but she started fighting it. At our wits end, we brought her to the doctors. Admission was the most expected outcome.

Driving from the hospital, I said a prayer to God. I prayed that God would protect her, heal her and soften her heart. I understood my mother. I understood why she had been secretly skipping on the medication. She wanted to be well. She believed that she was well. Taking medication and having to deal with the side effects is hard for her, both personally and publicly. Gazes from strangers – even those from church  - can be surprisingly harsh. She believes that she doesn’t really need the doses that the doctor prescribes. If she could only see the state she was in at this moment.

I hope she will forgive me and my brother for what we did today. Though we know and believe what we did was right, and ultimately for her own good, she will probably not feel the same. She would probably be very hurt by what we did, thinking this was our way of just trying to ‘get rid of the problem’ and doing what was most convenient to us. Hopefully one day she would know just how difficult it was for us, or how much it hurt us too. No child enjoys the thought of their mother sitting alone in a hospital bed, surrounded by even more mentally ill patients.

Come home soon ma. Please believe me when I say – we love you. 

#23 A Brave Death

Thursday afternoon, I got a call from a friend. My old college mate, Mario was dying. He complained of a headache just a day earlier on Wednesday morning. Made his way to hospital but by afternoon, he was in a coma. Doctors said something about his cancer spreading to his head causing internal brain damage. Chances are, he will not recover. It was just a matter of days.

“ What cancer?” I asked.

“The cancer he’s been battling since early last year.” came the answer.

I was embarrassed. I had not kept abreast with the ongoings of many people I used to know.

“Can you come?” asked my friend.

“Not now. I’m overseas. I will see him as soon as I’m back.”

“Hurry..”

Over the next two days, I thought about just what I could possibly say to Mario, literally on his death bed. It has been at least 4 years since I last saw or spoke to him. I had no idea he went through countless facial reconstruction surgeries last year to remove the cancer on his cheek, or that he couldn’t talk for three months. All I know was that he was one of those cheerful ones. The kind that seemed to carry jokes with him everywhere, spreading laughter as he went. It seemed a cruel twist of fate to mute such a person.

The plan was to visit him on Saturday. But by Friday night, I still had no idea what I was going to say to him. But it didn’t really matter in the end. Mario died on a Friday afternoon before I ever had the chance to see him.

On his Facebook wall, the endless post of encouragement and support gradually turned into words of condolences.  An hour later as I was driving home, a text message came in.

“Mario passed away.” said my friend.

“I know.”

“His funeral is tomorrow night. Shall we go together?” said my friend.

“OK… See you then.”

Over the next two days, as I went through the details of the last years of his life and death, I realize that there was so much more to this man than I ever know from college.

I learned of his great courage in facing this rare but fierce cancer that hand literally consumed his life overnight. Even as he was going through chemotherapy, he refused to give in to sadness, insisting that having cancer doesn’t mean you stop laughing. His mother told him to pray to the Goddess Guan Yin to heal him, but he refused. He said that if he prayed and Guan Yin healed him, it would not be fair to others who deserved it more. He would not ask for intervention from God if this was his fate.

“He is no longer in pain. My son is in a better place now.” said Mario’s mother with a smile on her face at the funeral . I had never seen a mother grieving for her son with so much peace and acceptance in her eyes.  I guess Mario inherited his courage from his mother.

He was my age, born just 2 weeks before me. And yet here he was, lying in a wooden coffin. It felt surreal staring down on him through the coffin glass. The embalmers did such a good job that if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just in some deep sleep. I stared at his face, half expecting him to suddenly open his eyes to give me one of his trademark grins I often saw in college. But he was most assuredly gone. It was the reason we were all there in the first place. Silly me.

We sat around and watched as the priest burned paper money, paper houses, paper cars and a myriad of appliances, as offering to Mario in his afterlife. A friend joked that we should burn a few mobile phones too. He was always a gadget geek. Mario would have appreciated it. I nodded with a smile. On the day he died, Mario left behind his parents, his two younger sisters and dozens of friends who would forever miss his jokes and banter.

It amazed me to listen to what people had to say about him after his passing. I was reminded again that ultimately at the point of your death, you will be loved and missed not for your abilities or achievements, but for the love and joy you impart to those you come in contact with in your life. In death, I also found new respect for him. He had faced death with a kind of dignity and courage that I can only hope I will have when my day comes.

The service ended around half past ten. We said our goodbyes to each other and one last goodbye to Mario. I headed home and hugged my wife, just a little tighter, just a litter longer that night.

May God’s grace and mercy descend upon you. Rest in peace Mario.

#22 Making Babies

I listened to a very personal sharing from a rather prominent local activist, not about his professional life, but about him and his wife's personal struggle in trying to have children. Here it is. 

http://www.bfm.my/couple-struggle-fertility-treatments.html

It really got to me I must admit. My wife and I have been trying intently for more than a year now with no success. Many things shared sounded so familiar to me, especially about how every single month the one thing you both dread to see is 'aunt flow' (or the period) coming.

It's been a taxing exercise, both emotionally and financially. It's hard to explain the anxiety that comes with this struggle. Just like him, we have tried different avenues. Chinese sensei consultations, medical consultations and even minor surgery (a laparoscopy if you want to get technical) all in the name of wanting a baby. Every single month, both of us are acutely aware of what day of the single she is. She checks her temperature every day and wait for tell tale signs from her body. I spend half my time trying to schedule outstation trips and meetings around 'the right time of the month' to be home. Sex is pleasurable we all can agree. But  when you are trying for baby intently and purposefully, you almost feel like you are on a mission to Mars. There are checklist, there are conditions and there is timing to be met. A lot like how Mr. Nagayam says it, you eventually become an almost-expert on the issue of infertility. 

A lot of well-intended people have offered advice. First they said the woman must be relaxed and stress free. So we agreed for the to quite her job. They said go on a holiday and you'll come back pregnant. So we went, several times. No good news. Then they said the man needs to be relaxed too, otherwise there is 'poor motility'. So I (try) to relax more. No good news. Chinese medicine doctors told her no cold stuff, no white vegetables, no coconut milk, no melons, no lifting your arms above your head, no strenuous activities (including exercise). Medical doctors said nothings wrong except, wait, what is this? Oh, one of your tubes is blocked. Don’t know why, don’t how, don't recommend to fix it either. Just try longer. Start thinking of IUI or IVF if you can’t wait anymore.

It doesn't help that everyone else is getting married later and having babies sooner, as if making a baby was as simple as 1,2,3. It's not a competition, but it certainly causes more self doubt and anxiety to manifest. How come others conceive so easily? Almost effortlessly it seems. Why can't we be like that?

And so you go home thinking it over. How hard do you try? How far do you go? How long do you wait? Whose word do you take? In times like this, you do wish you have someone you can talk to about these things.

But it is not something we freely share with people around us. In fact, only people closest and dearest to us know (or bother to ask) about what really is going on. It's a sensitive topic. It's hard to look at someone in the eye and say "We want but we can't." Its a heavy questions with a heavy answer. Not everyone wants to deal with that on their little Saturday night.  

But we have tried taking it in our stride. In fact, we both realize that it in fact an exercise of faith. Understanding faith means understanding that life doesn’t always go the way you want it to. That no matter how hard you pray sometimes, God’s answer isn’t always yes. That whatever plans you thought you have for your life, you really need to learn to give them up and submit to His will, whatever that might be.  

A lot of times, I forget this. With all the options money buy, and how far medical science can take you, it’s easy to forget that the miracle of life comes not by paying doctors with test tubes, but by submitting to God, the source and sustainer of all life.

Where do we go from here? How long do we try? How far do we go with these medical options? Honestly, I don’t know. I search my heart and still cannot find an answer. I know my wife’s heart aches every time she looks at other families with young children. Although I try convincing my wife that we don’t really need children to be happy, Even I find myself smiling down on little children wishing they were mine.

Maybe those paternal instincts are finally starting to kick in.

                                                                                                                                               

#18 Things You Wish For

I remember not too long ago that I thought to myself :

"I don't want to have any kids yet. I'm still young. I want some time before I start a family."

I didn't really want to be one of those couples who had babies popping out 9 months (or sometimes sooner) after the wedding. I thought that when the time comes, then we'll have one... but for now, let us enjoy things for what it is.

Over time, the more I talked to people, the more I realised that there was a second group of people - people who found it very difficult to conceive at all, despite all their efforts. My heart went out to them. How sad it must feel, how hard it must be watching other people with their babies and children, wishing you have that too.

I always knew I didn't want to be the first group of people. But I didn't know I was already part of the second group.

Sigh.

People always say you should be careful in what you wish for. I guess you never quite get it until it happens to you.

#14 Before You Go

To a friend.

I walked around the airport aimlessly, thinking about what you told me the night before.

I was going to say I’m sorry. But truth be told, I don’t really know what to say. What is the appropriate thing to a dying person? Is there ever something appropriate to say? Death isn’t something I’ve been very familiar with.

There were so many people busy shopping for souvenirs to bring home with them. The café’s and shops so busy, so bustling with life. So jarring in contrast with the subject in my head – death.

I remember how nonchalant you seemed to say “I’ve come to accept it.” It both amazes me, and sends a chilling cold down my spine. I try to imagine how you feel at this point in time, but I cannot possibly gasp it. God only knows the kind of turmoil and pain and despair you’ve had to go through to come to this point of being able to simply say “I’ve come to accept it”.

It’s true. We all eventually die anyway – so fleeting is life on earth. The reminder of death sure has a way of slicing right through life, instantly revealing to you what truly is important and what is not. What really matters and what does not. How petty it all suddenly feels, chasing the things we chase. The thing you spend so much time fighting for suddenly doesn’t seem like the thing you really want when you know it will all amount to nothing when you go.

I’ve been thinking very hard about what to say to you. Even as I type this, I still struggle. I only know I must say something to you, for all that you are and all that you have been to me.

I try recalling some of the things I read in the book Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. His coach was dying a slow death too. He had the chance to sit with him every Tuesday until the day he died. Talking about death every Tuesday was morbid. But it gave both of them deep meaning and insight into life. I hope you will still find meaning in these last few months.

It's days later, I find myself standing in front of an urn holding the ashes of my mother’s brother. He had died earlier this year of a stroke after an argument with his wife. They were afraid to tell my mother – afraid she would not be able to take it. Rows and rows of shelf held the ashes of so many people, some long gone, some only recently. Their pictures were placed right next to their urn, so that you could see how they looked like. Other items were also placed next to the urn – paper cars, drink bottles, crosses, cigarettes, one even had a Harley Davison motorbike. I guessed these were either things their survivors wanted them to bring to the afterlife, or things that they liked when they were alive. It felt somewhat eerie, being among so many dead remains. But it also felt very solemn. A grim remind of how short life really is for all of us.

I listen to my aunt and mother as they talked about my dead uncle. I could see the sadness in their eyes. Truly we live on in this world through the lives of those we touched. And those whom we touch go on touching other lives - a long chain of lives touching other lives, making a difference, making a change.

I walked out of the building, staring at the giant sign board. Memorial centre; how apt a name – a place you go to remember someone. My thoughts turn to you, unsurprisingly. I did mention I wanted to remember you properly. Slowly, the words started stitching themselves together. This much I have gathered I want to say to you;

I wish I could give you a good warm hug and tell you I’ll be there every step of the way till the very last step. But I cannot. So it would seem these thoughts are the only thing I can offer you.

Your heart is filled with love and charity. Even without ever meeting you, I know this. A selfless soul, ever putting her wants and needs second to the people she cares for. Many will call you silly and naïve. But I know God will call you a cheerful giver.

A painful thought comes to me; they say that God loves blessing a cheerful giver. And yet, here you are dying at such an age in such a manner. Where is Gods promised blessing? Recently, someone said to me he can never understand God. How can he allow so much injustice and suffering in this world? How he could let good people suffer and die while bad people live and prosper? He was talking to me about the crippled beggar near our table. But I thought about you.

I’ve never met you. But I have spent the last 2 years corresponding with you. I’d like to think I do know you, in some ways. I’ve never heard your voice, but you generously revealed your inner voice to me. I’ve never seen your face, but you always spoke freely and honestly with me, that it felt like we’re close friends anyway – people who genuinely cared for each other. We’ve never actually gotten involved in each other’s lives physically, but it still felt like we touched each other’s lives.

Thank you for your friendship. It felt real to me. Thank you for your words and your praises. They soothed my heart. Thank you for being a testimony to me that there are truly loving and selfless souls in this world – people who give and give and refuse to stop until they cannot give anymore. People who still put others before them, even as their own lives are literally at the brink of ending and not breathe a word of it; it gave me great hope and removed a lot of my cynicism. I will remember you always, long after you are gone. I will whisper your name – your real name - quietly to myself in remembrance of you - you who loved relentlessly, and gave unreservedly.

May God in His love and mercy, descend on you and give you peace, keeping you safe in His arms till the end of days. Perhaps one day, in the afterlife, we will finally meet.

Till then my dear friend

#13 The Power of Introverts

 I couldn't stop nodding my head as I watched this video. When it finished, my other half looked at me and said "That is so you."

Many things pointed out here hit right at the bulls eyes for me.

I only realized I was an introvert as I moved into my teens. I slowly learned that I preferred to keep most of my true feelings to myself. My feelings were something that was incredibly personal and private, and not something to be easily paraded and conveyed to others. It was like a precious little secret that you were generally quite selective about who to share with. After some social time, I always wanted to be alone for a while to recharge. I enjoyed devoting my time to close friends, I enjoyed deep discussions and I most definitely expressed myself better in writing.

But at the same time, I also always envied and admired those who were bold, expressive, and in the words of the video above, 'alpha'. I've never ever felt 'alpha' in my life - always feeling overshadowed or out done by people who seemed so much more confident and smarter than me. My father was one of those extroverts, or so I thought. He seemed to always be the centre of attention when I grew up. He was charming, funny and a great conversationalist. I admired him and wanted to be like him. I guess every boy wanted to be like his father. 

I never stopped being an introvert, but as I went through my teens, I slowly crept out of my shell. Like what the video says, the world looks up to extroverts. The world expects us, especially men, to take charge and lead. I learned how to handle conversations with friends or groups, I learned how to talk to a girl without blushing or panicking. I got reasonably good grades, I participated in sports and I even did public speaking and debates. I learned how to do everything the so called 'alpha' was supposed to do. But most subtly, I also learned how to pass off as an extrovert, even though deep inside I was still very much an introvert.

This is true even until today, because even the person closest to me - my wife - observed that I was very very good at steering all sorts of conversation with people without ever having to reveal my opinion or feelings if I didn't want to. Only a direct question, asked with resolve and purpose and patience would make me reveal them.

There is this quote attributed to Socrates that goes “Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”. I'd bet a pretty penny Socrates was an introvert, and so was my father.

Introverts like me feel the need to share and express themselves just as much as any extrovert. The difference is probably that the extrovert will share with anyone that is willing to hear it while the introvert will share with someone that wants to listen to it. There is a very easily missed distinction there. We want to talk to people we know want to listen to what we have to say. Otherwise, we'd just rather keep it inside.

Introverts are inherently better listeners. We are acutely aware of who listens and who doesn't. We notice right away when someone isn't listening We are mindful when a conversation involves you doing all the talking and me doing all the listening. Not that we'd tell you so - introverts remember?

If you know an introvert that listens to you rant and whine all the time, or if you have a confidant whom you go to when you feel you need to let some things out, know this - they have things they want to share too. They listen to you because they care about you. But don't forget that there are times that they need to say something too. They want to be shown the same kind of care and attention they are giving you.

The difference is, they are waiting for you to ask them about it.

Trust me on this. I know because I'm waiting too.

#12 Baby Yet?

One of the most popular questions you get asked right after you get married is "So when's the baby coming?"  Some people also like to ask "So how's married life?", but it's just a matter of time before the first one is eventually thrown out there as well. People just kind of expect that because it's the natural progression of things. In fact, some people would even say that the whole point of getting marries is so that you can start having kids. 

But I remember standing there in that church 2 years ago, watching my bride walk down the aisle. I was ready to marry and commit my life to this woman. But having a baby and becoming a father; now that was another story. In our private moment, I had told her "Give me a year." I could feel that I needed time. It just felt like I had made a great big leap into marriage. I didn't felt anywhere near ready for fatherhood. I knew I want to be a great dad, but I didn't feel like I 'qualified' yet. Great fathers are often great men. And I didn't feel so great. 

I always remember a line from Mitch Albom's book Have A Little Faith. 

“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.” 

Until I felt more ready, I didn't really want to risk shattering any childhoods. 

My other half was more than ready of course. It just amazes me how some women have such strong maternal instincts. I watch as so many of my friends turn from hot babes to hot mama's. The transition seems so natural to them. The minute the baby is put in their hands, it's as if long dormant instinct automatically kicks in. They cuddle and care for the child (even the ones that aren't theirs) with such ease and tenderness. 

On the other hand, there I was always holding their baby in the most awkward manner. I'm not one of those guys good with children or baby. Children annoy me because they tend to be noisy little rascals. Babies scare me because I feel like I might accidentally break their neck while holding them. I guess something about Mitch Albom's analogy about youth and shattered glass just made me all the more nervous around infants. 

But the other day, on one of those rare days that I was actually on Facebook looking at feeds, I started looking at photos of some of my friends babies. I know that sounds perfectly normal to a woman. But for a guy like me, it's rare. I find it more annoying than adorable when parents post infinite amount of photos of their babies all the time. But anyway, I looked. And couldn't help but notice how the little girl had her mothers beautiful eyes. Unfortunately, she had her fathers ugly nose too. 

And then I smiled. I caught myself looking at this child with a sense of adoration that I wasn't quite unfamiliar with. Her little squinty eyes staring earnestly, her thumbs the size of my pinky. I am smiling looking at a baby? Really? Me? It was at that moment that I realized - I am ready. Not in my head, but in my heart. Suddenly the thought of carrying a little mini me around town with a prem and a bag full of diapers doesn't quite irk me the way it used to. I realized very slowly that there is great joy in living a life that involves committing yourself to something greater than yourself. That there is great meaning and happiness when you devote your time and energy for the betterment of someone else's life. That meaning and happiness is amplified even more when that someone else turns out to be none other than your own flesh and blood - your child. Loving a child is equivalent to completely loving another person and loving yourself at the same time. When thought of it that way, I suddenly find the devotion parents show their children to be so natural, expected even. 

I still don't feel like I'm well prepared to be a father, but I guess I'll just have to improvise my way to being an awesome dad. If I screw up the first one.... well... I can always make another one. :-P

Hopefully, with God's grace we won't have to wait too long. 

Cheers everyone. 

#11 When You Love A Woman

I've never considered myself much of an emo love song kind of person. On top of that, I hardly ever listen to Chinese songs. But this one seriously got me feeling rather soft in the heart and wet in the eyes.




My wife played it for me one day. It was before our wedding. In fact, she loved the song so much she wanted to sing it to me on our wedding. I can't really find a translation that does justice to it, so I'm trying to translate it myself (and hopefully try to relearn a bit of Chinese).

It's a song sang from a woman to her husband, talking about how she will grow old with him, listening to his stories, be with him all the days of their lives. And when it's time to die, she'd want him to go first, so that he wouldn't ever need to feel the pain of seeing her die instead.


It’s a beautiful song, with really beautiful lyrics. But it wasn’t so much the song that touched me. Rather, it is knowing very well that every word sung, every feeling expressed  in that song were things she’s always wanted me to know about her love. She has never been one to express herself in words eloquently. All that I’ve learned and understood about her love for me have come through years of trying to understand her actions.

She asked me one day how I knew she was the one I wanted to marry. Everybody seems to be asking me that these days. She said that even after all these years, she still found me hard to read. So I held her and told her.

It was when I knew in my heart that she was would always be by my side, through thick and thin, good times or bad times, in wealth or in poverty, in good health or in sickness. She’d stand by my side till Death himself came to take one of us away from each other. That was when I knew.

Perhaps all women who truly love their man would do the same. But not every woman finds a man she’d be willing to give that kind of love to. And not every man who receives it realizes its value.

I guess I’ve been blessed. That’s I’d just stumble upon a woman that’d turn my life around, bring a kind of joy and laughter I had never knew before, while so many others struggle finding the one person to commit their life to. And even among people who have someone, they struggle to find happiness and fulfillment from the relationship they commit themselves to.

Sometimes, people would ask my wife how she found such a ‘good catch’. They seem to have the impression that I’m some sort of well to do career man whose wife can afford to kick back and enjoy the benefit of her husband’s success. Apart from that being furthest from the truth, they also don’t realize that when we were first together, I wasn’t a ‘good catch’ as they defined it. She appeared in my life one day, by pure chance.

At the time, I had nothing; no money, no career, no good looks, no charm. I guess nothing has changed there! But I did one thing right. You see, she didn’t ‘catch’ me. It was I who never let her go.

Come to think of it, I still don’t really know how she decided to be with me. It was not like she lacked suitors. There were many others interested in her. But she stayed, patiently waiting and enduring while I struggled and learned how to come into my own as a man. Perhaps I should one day.

They say a man’s eligibility increases as he ages and climbs up in life society. They also say a woman’s eligibility decreases as she ages and the her beauty fades. I don’t know where people get all these conclusions from.

 But I do know this; at the peak of her youth and beauty, when I was young and had nothing, she was with me. Because of that, when the time comes, when I am at the peak of my life and my success, when she has become old and wrinkled, I will be with her.

#7 Loyalty At Work

Is employee loyalty a relic of the past in this day and age? The answer is a resounding Yes if you ask some of my friends.

"Money talks baby... " they eloquently put it. All talk about values of loyalty, service and oneness with your employer are all just sentimental rubbish from a long gone era. Even the Japanese are starting to break away from those values, what more we who aren't Japanese and are of a much recent generation.In any case, corporations hire and fire on the basis of merits and performance these days. Do well and you go up, screw up and you go out. No place for sentiment in the corporate jungle. It would seem your Key Performance Index (KPI) will always outweigh your years of service.

I ask myself if this is indeed true. Indeed, I have known people who’ve service their employers for decades only to be laid off the minute profit margins were thinning. Corporations inevitably take care of the bottom line first before taking care of its staff. Yet, a big part doesn’t really want to agree with all of that – for very personal reasons.

I have been serving the same company, working for the same boss for the past 6 years of my working life. Many people have expressed surprise and ask me when I plan to make a move. Unlike the rest of my friends, I work for an obscure little engineering company. I work with a boss who is both the manager and owner of the company. Work gets done in a very informal (or chaotic) and personal way. This same boss helped me in a very big way with the last leg of my undergraduate studies, when I had not enough cash to continue. If you would understand my background – my own relatives refused to help me when I needed help the most. But this man helped me, even when I was a perfect stranger. Out of gratefulness and gratitude, I have served him loyally. I gave him and my work my personal dedication. And in response, gave me significant pay raises and made it a point to personally mentor me – coaching and imparting me with whatever skill, knowledge or wisdom he had. I never thought I would have ever learnt this much in the short space of 6 years.

But sometimes I wonder to myself, how long will this continue? Will it not be a matter of time before I hit a plateau? What happens then? Do I leave an pursuit other things – things that will help me continue to grow? Or do I stay on and continue serving this man? Is it right to leave after what he has done for me? Is it right to leave after all that mentoring and coaching? And if I stay, how long more do I stay? My dilemma isn’t about loyalty to a corporation like my friends, but loyalty to a person. How far should it go?

They say you shouldn’t leave it up to your boss or employer to chart your career for you. Shape the life you want to have. And so I ask myself “Is there more out there for me? Is there something else that should be doing? Am I limiting myself by staying? Or is staying the better thing to do?” I know how to ask the questions, but finding the answer is proving much harder. Everyone has an opinion, but no one knows for sure how things really do turn out till it happens. “In his heart Man plans his way, but the Lord determines his step.” said King Solomon. He sure knew a thing or two about life.

Am I at a plateau? In a way yes. While the first few years of work felt like being in the Land of Oz, constantly bumping into new things, the last year or so became more of a repetition of things I’ve already done before. Is that a bad thing? I don’t know. In a way, it means that I am fully competent in my job. But it also means that I’m running out of new experiences – and with that comes the risk of slipping into years of complacency, doing the things you already know how to do over and over again. I call that the corporate limbo land. Not going up, not going down, just there. Is that a bad thing? Again, I don’t know. Is contentment and happiness found in constantly achieving more and more, accumulating more and more or learning more and more? Or is it by training your heart to accept and be happy with the things that you already have without wishing you had more. Is there a way to combine these two things?

Frankly, I don’t know.