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Flying back from Miami this past week,
I skimmed through a past issue of Time magazine...
at the last page of the issue, in the Essay section,
I read through Garrison Keillor's "Goodbye to
All That", a farewell essay to his dying father...
I started crying. I have decided to write my own farewell
letter, to say goodbye to my mother, and hopefully
start a new chapter in my life.
I tried several times to write this section, but always
end up scrapping whatever I wrote - I do not want
to end up writing a biography about my mother... what
I want is to write about my feelings, how I felt when
she left this world...
My mother came to visit me around March of 2000. I
remember talking to her about Y2K, how ridiculous
it was for me to tell her to stock up on water and
food (which she did)... that was when I realized how
fragile my mother was. Throughout my life, my mother
has been the "strong" one - she took care
of the family the best she could, and she never showed
weakness. When she visited in March she seemed a different
person - my mother was 54 but she said she felt 80...
every three steps she took she needed to rest for
minutes...
The doctors told her it was radiation therapy/surgery/physical
therapy that caused her back pains, but no one could
offer a cure - what the hell is Morphine going
to do when she is in pain again the moment she
stops taking them? She was in good spirits though
- we always managed to go have dinner at our "usual"
restaurants - Kikugawa for Japanese, Shuang Cheng
for Chinese Dungeness Crabs, and Seafood Palace for
Chinese Hotpot...
She and I both believed the cancer stage of her life
has ended, and all we have to worry about was her
back pains... She said she was going back for a few
months, but will be back soon in the summer.
Mom was told that the cancer has returned, and this
time it's spread to her neck. Her body was too weak
to perform even a biopsy to determine the stage of
her cancer - the doctors ordered chemotherapy...
A few months goes by... being in a different country,
I became my mother's best friend over the phone -
we talk about my life, my relationships, and my green
card application. She always ended the conversation
with "Take care of yourself", as if it was
the last time I would speak to her. I always told
her not to talk like that... everything will be all
right. Soon.
By October, the doctors told the family that they've
done all they could do, and gave my mother another
three or four months to live. I was in denial, as
well as my family. I had arranged for a second opinion
here in the States, in hope of her being seen at possible
the Mayo Clinic...
I am sorry - I can write no more... maybe at a later
time I will continue this.
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