Vacuum

I feel like there’s a black hole where my heart should be, swallowing all emotions after their brief existence.

Brandon kissed me good morning and that piece of happy that usually sticks with me for a good portion of the day instead was fleeting. Came and went like *snap* that.

Even the songs I usually have in my head are silenced today. Then again, quiet seems to fit this mood. Or actually, the lack of mood thereof.

It’s weird to feel this numb.

Gosh. I sound like an emo kid…

They are never our plans

It all started with a wedding invitation.

I was invited to my coworker Candice’s wedding. Not wanting to drag Brandon along, I asked my friend Nora. But since the Anaheim Ducks won the Stanley Cup, they were throwing a celebration on the same night. Nora would never ditch me out right but the moment she mentioned it, I told her to ditch me anyway. Who am I to stand between my best friend and her favorite team! 🙂

So, going to the wedding solo. I can do that. I’d be among friends anyway.

But then, I woke up with a clogged sinus and runny nose. Of all the days to have allergies attack–which doesn’t happen as often nowadays since I have been using the prescription nose spray–yesterday was it. The sneezes didn’t go away many hours after the nose spray. At this rate, I’d have to take an allergy medication which would more than likely put me to sleep behind the wheel between here and Agoura Hills, 2-hour drive away. So I asked Brandon if the standing offer to go with me to the wedding was still valid.

And he said yes.

As it turned out, Brandon was meant to come with me all along. For all the right reasons.

When we turned off the main highway to our destination, both of us had never felt more relief to have Brandon driving the Santa Fe.

The wedding was at someone’s private home in Santa Monica mountains. As in, to get to this beautiful home, we had to drive down this steep, unpaved winding switchbacks that one wrong move would surely send you down to the bottom of the mountain. I would be way too scared to drive down that thing on my own. Besides, my Toyota may have made it down the road but I wasn’t sure about coming back up.

Uncharacteristically, I didn’t bring my camera to the wedding. My decision surprised everyone including Brandon. Well, heck. She will have professional photographers there. She doesn’t need me.

And besides, for crying out loud, I want to fucking enjoy a party for once instead of running around taking pictures. Sure, I always love taking pictures. But please, can a girl just party free of responsibilities sometimes? (Well, I did managed to take a few on my camera phone to stop my hands from shaking from camera withdrawal. Heh.)

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Brandon and I and another coworker and his girlfriend were seated at a different table than the rest of the coworkers and Michael (remember, he left us for grad school?), away from the main crowd and pool side. See those balloons? They later let them up up a lot higher. We thought that these were hooked up to LED and would light up like lanterns. But actually, they were rigged to explode into spectacular fireballs by a professional Hollywood pyro-technician, a friend (or family?) of the groom.

Two of the ballons went off after the couple’s first dance into the intended spectacular fireballs.

“Oooh! The Hindenburg!” I giggled. From our side, the explosions looked unintended originally and yet they were awesome.

From the other side, it was more like a scene out of a Vietnam war movie.

A 2-inch piece of the burning balloon remnants landed on a lady’s arm and the other on her date’s jacket. The big piece of it, a good 6 inch long, landed on Celeste’s bare shoulder.

We didn’t know about this until much later. The word was that the EMT had come down to whisk her to emergency room already. But then as we were in line for the food, I found out she was still here, waiting for the ambulance.

I ran across the grass in my chunky 3.5 inch heels to house, a feat in and of itself if you know my history with heels. Michael was right on my six.
Fortunately, there was a registered nurse in the house. She already cleaned up Celeste and all the baggies of frozen veggies and ice which were applied to her burned shoulder, and gave her something for the pain.

My original thought was to just check in on Celeste. She was being brave about it because, well, that’s Celeste for you. But I thought at this scary time, it would be better to have at least one face she knows in that room. So I stayed and helped held the baggies onto her shoulder.

Pieces of her skin were coming off on the plastic baggies and onto my hands. As an afterthought, yeah that was gross. But at the time, I realized what it was and I didn’t freak out. I guess when your friend is in danger, the motherly/sisterly instinct kicked in, and nothing seems to matter but her well being.

Now that we were in ground zero, we found out that that EMT wasn’t coming down after all, and that Johann, Celeste’s boyfriend, was the one taking Celeste to the hospital. Brandon popped in to check on me and upon learning of the situation, he went back outside to the parking lot to look in on Johann.

Oh yes, there also was the car situ-fucking-ation.
You see, the parking at the estate was, well, all fucked up. All the cars were just piled up in this little lot. No valet. No nothing. Apparently, nobody put a thought into it about how people were to leave this joint parked the way that we all did.

Johann’s car was among those that was stuck behind other cars. But worse yet, the Impala actually was really stuck in a ditch. The guys, whatever they did out there, freed the car. It seemed like eternity for us in the master bathroom when we finally came out.

We put Celeste in the car with fresh bags of ice. Brandon hauled their wedding present out of the backseat and up to the house.

Brandon finally had his dinner.  I finally finished my second Guinness and had a few bites of dinner.  After all of that, I didn’t feel like eating.  Not to mentioned that the grilled chicken reminded me a little too much of pieces of Celeste on my hands earlier.  I decided to grab Michael and party up in Celeste’s honor.

Michael and I and another couple got the party started on the dance floor (aka living room). We found the bride trying to get people to dance.

“Screw that, sweetie.  You’re dancing with US!”  We dragged her to the floor ourselves. “Dancing Queen” came on. Candice asked for her sisters. I ran out and summoned all the bridesmaids and they swiftly followed me back in to join the bride.  We had ourselves a dance party! Lots of fun.

10 p.m. struck and the Borens turned into 2 tired pumpkins. Michael followed us out of the canyons and we all headed home.

Oh no. I ain’t over yet.

I found a missed call on my cellphone from my dad.

The doctor gave my mom at most 6 months, but they think she may have more like 3-4 left in her. It depends on when her liver goes.

Instead of the road trip for 4th of July we had plan for the past 5 months, I’m getting plane ride home.

Seriously, I have never been so grateful to have Brandon with me last night. From start to finish.

We think we are in charge of our destinies. But sometimes, like Mother Nature, the universe/higher power will make a show of force to remind you who’s the boss.

And last night was the epitome of that reminder.

Of life and death

Justin’s mom Toni passed on today. Please keep the family in your prayer.

I am sure Olaina will update the blog as soon as they all can get their heads around it.

People say death seems to come in three. For us, it’s more like four. First, Shane’s uncle passed away almost 2 months ago. A week or so after that, Nhien’s aunt. Then about the same time Toni went to the hospital, Erik’s relative passed away. And now we wrapped the sweep with Toni.

Life does come and go in seasons. I mean, at some point, your friends were all getting married. Then later, they all seem to be having kids. And then folks you know start to get ill and died.

This is when I turn to the teach of Buddha about the life-death cycle. We are born. We age. We get sick. We die. It’s the only way life goes. And all you can do is the best you can.

I read this article a while back in the Bangkok Post about the Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh who visited Thailand and gave a sermon of sort. His message speaks to me loud and clear.

Life is only a moment. All you have is this moment.

…He simply says that you too can become an enlightened person if you focus your mind on the present and become mindful or conscious of your daily activities.To him, nirvana is not something that lies in the future or in the past but something you can experience right now, with every breath you take…

…we can live a normal life by simply being aware of our activities every single moment. We can let our conscious mind, instead of instinct, guide us. Then we will have compassion towards our fellow human beings. Then we can love peace, accept differences and have more understanding of others.

What are you going to do with your moment? Do you live it well? Do you live it for loved ones who have gone before you, honoring the memories of their great lives?

I ask that question everyday especially with my mom in the state she is in. When time comes, I only hope I can live my life in her honor, continuing her legacy of being generous, kind, and a wonderful friend.

Spill

Over on Justin & Olaina’s side, they’re waiting for Justin’s mom to die. It’s any day now.

Since Justin’s mom’s started down this recent path, I was forced to face the same road my mom will eventually take.

Mom is not going to come out of this one alive. My dad said this a long time ago and none of us wanted to listen.

My dad, the man who was in denial for the longest time that his baby daughter was in love and would eventually get married and live in America. Mr. Denial was the first one to embrace the possibility that there is to be no good news after mom had the stroke. My dad, the giver of bad news, had prepared me a long time ago and I didn’t want to listen.

I called up my mom’s best friend to hear the better news. She always gave a more hopeful view of things. Most of aunties are being positive about it. A few, like my dad, as I realized now, are realists.

A few weeks ago when I called home, I talked into the phone with mom only listening on the other end. I had no idea if she comprehended anything or not. Dad said she pretty much stops talking altogether. She still doesn’t swallow her saliva. She still has the feeding tube and doesn’t eat much on her own. I don’t know if she actually has eaten anything lately.

Dad said her brain’s functionality is what they’re worried about. She’s here with us half the time and elsewhere the other. She’d ask if someone was picking me up from the airport one day and if someone is walking me home from school the next.

Cancer definitely has returned to the liver. The expensive breakthrough drug that has kept her cancer-free for about a year apparently doesn’t work any more. At this rate, there is no western medicine that can save her. They can’t do chemo again. June 11 they’re going to the oncologist to get more details.

But for now, although many steps behind Justin’s mom Toni, my mom is going down that same road.

At some point, we are going to watch her die.

I haven’t wanted to accept it. Like you’ve read the past few days. We have been trying to shrug off the reality. Making jokes about impending death. Trying to have a good time. I personally have been keeping busy and trying not to think about it all too much.  I wouldn’t talk about it if I don’t have to.
But like a train wreck I can’t look away, I keep up with Olaina’s account on the entire experience at “House of Death”, as she called it. In the future, I don’t know how near or far, I will have to be in that house, waiting for my mom’s final moment too.

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to read about it. I want to run away.

But deep down I know I should read it because I need to be prepared.

Just thinking about it already breaks my heart.

Well hell. Writing this out, though somewhat therapeutic in a way that I’m forcing myself to face my own emotions, hurts like hell.

I keep thinking that I’m ready for my mom’s final moment. That I have been prepared for it for a long time. That I have said my goodbyes. That I have made my peace. That I have let go a long time ago.

What do you do when you find out that this entire time you have only been lying to yourself?

I haven’t been able to call home to “talk” to my mom because of what I have been experiencing through Justin & Olaina. I am afraid that I would completely lose my mind on the phone. I already am losing my mind thinking about calling home right now.

I told my dad the other that the reason why I haven’t called mom was because I just couldn’t make myself do it. I told my dad about Toni.

“Don’t ever leave me hanging like that,” dad said, meaning he doesn’t want to be kept alive as a vegetable or if there is no way to save him.
We then discussed the living will and what his wishes were, and that he needs to get all of this down with a lawyer so my brother and I don’t have to fight about it later, etc.

I just now realized, both of us completely changed the subject.

It seems like I’m not the only one running away. Besides, I already have an edge on dad on the running away part. I’m already half way around the world.

But I don’t think it hurts any less.

ETA: I IM’ed with my brother Onk last night.  He said to call home on Sunday–California Saturday night–to try to talk with mom.  They have been gathering on Sundays for lunch so there will be more support there, Onk said.  Onk is the joker.  He has been able to make mom laughs or respond to him teasing her.  Mom’s favorite past time since the stroke used to be trying to kick Onk.  Hehe.  Now, he said she only cracked a smile at him once in a while.  It’s been hard for them too.  But everyone is hanging in there.  I am to send more pictures home in the meantime.  And he will relay his message to mom that I “called”.

Marathon Woman

I. Baked. 10. Dozen. Cookies. In. One. Sitting. Since. Around. 7:30.

Oh, I also made bacon and rice for dinner while whipping up the batter as well. Talk about multitasking!

The last 2 dozen of the almond blueberry are cooling right now. By the time I’m done here, I can wrap that up and go to bed.

Oh hell no. I’m not doing dishes tonight! I did rinse everything out though. 🙂

So, the sample batch of Absolutely Weevil cookies (chocolate chips + English toffee) are ready. And I am introducing the more dainty, and at the moment unnamed, almond blueberry cookies as well.

(Hey, why aren’t YOU donating the money to the Lesser Weevils yet? You know you can get those yummy cookies I mentioned for $10 per dozen, right? You have to leave a comment or email me if you want them. Shipping maybe extra.)

Aunty Tim stopped by to pick up both kinds a while a go. She had the first batch of the almond blueberry which were still warm. A few minutes after she left, she called to report that she ate half of the blueberry ones already. LOL.

Today has been a long ass day. Nhien left for Spain, leaving me with loads of things to do on top of my existing to do list. But, you know me. Busy is always good. Because boredom–like scanning documents–sucks. Heh.

Brandon called and reported in. He had a long day too. Not entirely productive. But his new hotel is one of those suite hotels. Much improvement from the one he was at last night where they duct taped the batteries into the remote. He did get to meet new people and networked. So that was cool.

I also called home and I got to say a few words to mom. She doesn’t talk today. Not even a word. Pueng, the maid, put her on the phone with me while she went to get dad. I thought I was just on hold, but I had a feeling that mom may not be in the mood to talk. The background voice of the caregiver telling mom to say chat with me confirmed it. Mom was listening. But she wouldn’t talk.

“Hello beautiful? How are you today? Are you going to tell me how you are? Are you going to chat with me today? What’s for lunch?”

Silence on the other end until I heard dad coming for the phone.

“She didn’t talk, did she?”

“No, sir,” replied the caregiver.

“Noi, I’m going to talk to our daughter now. Okay?”

Dad picked up and after he was out of earshot reported that mom hasn’t talked to anyone in the past few days. Not even with her friends.

This is where I envy Justin a little bit. His mom is sick like mine. But at least he is only 2-3 hour drive away. I can’t even get on a plane in that amount of time.

Anyways. I’m going to put the cookies away and go to bed. Maybe tomorrow is a better day.

A girl can hope. Right?

Banshee on the bus

There’s this lady on my bus who appears to just LOVE to hear herself talk.  Well, only when she talks to Bruin Bill.

I sat next to this lady once before.  She only said hi and went back to napping.  No talking.  No nothing.  She seemed nice.  But anytime Bruin Bill is on the bus, she would be cozying up with him and chat her mouth off.

These would be the mornings that I’d crank up my headphone a few notches in attempt to drown out her voice.

I don’t mind so much when people chat on the bus in the morning, but this lady has a voice that is only equal to nail on the chalkboard.

Her voice is nasally and high pitched, not to the degree of Fran Drescher because it flattens out.  How can I explain it, like there is no acoustic to her voice.  No reverberant.  Like a duck.  You know, it doesn’t echo.  And she has this “Eeeeheheheheeee” laugh which could be infectious if it doesn’t sound too much like a piglet being slaughtered.

And this morning, my MP3 player ran out of juice in the middle of my nap.  Even in deep sleep and through ear buds, her fucking laughs managed to wake me up.  Thank god I always carry spare batteries.

Seriously, I try to have a good start in the morning.  Pleasant conversation with my bus buddies or a nice nap without music blaring too loudly into my head.  But the moment I step onto the bus and hear her voice, my mood sours instantly.

It’s hard being an audio kind of person.  Little things bug you.

All I can do aside from buying her gag ball as a hint or throw her off the bus altogether is to keep a stock of fresh batteries in my backpack.