Dee’s Space

I’ve always kept late nights. All through life, it seemed the world was divided into those who kept late nights and those who had to sleep early (by this I mean before midnight).

In school, I studied best through the early hours, the whiff of the thin night air, the ticking of the clock, sometimes that strange marble ball that dribbles from the ceilings above…me and my late night radio; Silkie at my feet… cup after cups of Teh. That’s how I went year after year from errant absent student to those A grades overnight. Literally. Ok, B grades sometimes.

Even when I was writing my thesis, I would read in the day and leave my thoughts that sauntered through the day’s active reading and inactive musings to culminate in those late night writings. I’d finish up just when the first light of the skies breaks to piercing traffic sounds. That’s when I’d take the chance to put my newly acquired driving skills to the test and drive Diana, who was a mere kid, to school. Much trust she had in me, come to think of it!

So I’ve never been the kind to go to bed early. I think those in this side of the camp would say that we’re just built to thrive in the late night hours. I used to theorise that if one were born in the midnight hours, it meant those were your “golden hours”. You’d otherwise be sleeping in the womb rather than fighting your way out.

I feel that the night offers much repose. Many of us only find peace and time to ourselves when our “responsibilities” go to bed. In my case, Lucien…

Separately, going to bed later stretches the waking hours. It lets me do more, think more, maybe gives me a sense of achieving more. It’s a kind of unthinking, unconscious reluctance to let the day go, just yet. It’s over when you close your eyes to sleep; a new day begins when you open them.

So I am glad that lately, I’ve been going to bed early.

In fact, I had luxuriated in much loved Time to do all the wonderful things I love doing that one weekend night, I had relinquished the weekend to an early retirement at 10pm.

I was no longer holding on to “more”.

Restful. Purposeful. These 2 that never seemed to go together, do now.

I was an angry person for a very long time.

A bruised and unsightly bucket of deep deep anger that I nursed quietly. For decades. Angry at the insipidity of ineffectual love, angry at the forgetfulness of hurt that erases events but not their sting.

Then I became a Mom..

It took me a really long time to come to this awareness but I finally know now how Dad ached when he could not provide as he wished, when we had struggles and he couldn’t help. When we pained and he was the cause.

In his youth, he was hard, steely and violent. Our simple minds simultaneously loved and hated him. During the peak of my own violent coming of age, I was a seething teenager with an unbalanced sentimentality that would erupt in rebellious demonstrations of all sorts. The one thing I never did was screw my grades up. Why? Because I knew it was the only real hope I could give myself.

You broke me down utterly but I am re-invented bigger, stronger and better.

I know now how deeply you must ache today. For the years that lapsed and the time we spent in combat. For knowing that as we discover each other again today, so much has been lost.

But take heart. Because you have taught in us a fierce love Daddy. Deeply profound even for me to grasp but its possibility wells in my heart each time I see your smoke-stained grin meet Lucien’s toothless one. I think Life itself streams possibilities of renewal and resuscitation. Like how Lucien’s birth has made your pain mine, bringing our hearts together once again. That we may live again as Father and Daughter. Forever and Ever.

[Show as slideshow]

[View with PicLens]

To stop the music press stop/pause.

This is a beautiful song about the seasons of life. Being a parent now makes me acutely aware of how Time strips away at all of life. Whether you do the right things or not. So the only thing I can do is to keep a heightened awareness of the here and now.

Never has my mortality been this strongly felt.

THE CIRCLE GAME Play

Yesterday, a child came out to wander
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go ’round and ’round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Then, the child moved ten times ’round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, “When you’re older”, must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him, “Take your time. It won’t be long now.
‘Til you drag your feet to slow the circles down”

And the seasons they go ’round and ’round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.

And the seasons they go ’round and ’round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and ’round and ’round
In the circle game
And go ’round and ’round and ’round in the circle game.

A child embodies an endless array of wondrous things that amaze, cheer and humble us.   They look at the world with such innocence and excitement, full of wonder and awe; a little afraid sometimes but always very game for discovery.

As adults, often, our world views become less glorious and it becomes harder and harder to become excited by the world.  Worldly possessions become our new toys and we let go of the simple but dear things that used to be all we needed in this world.  Like a hug, a cuddle, a kiss on the forehead, a lot of love even when you’re swimming in a diaper full of shit.

Why does the significance of these things diminish as we grow up? Is it the loss of innocence of our little ones? Or is it our failure to love unconditionally as little children stumble from the cradle of our arms into the world; when we begin to weigh expectations on their growing shoulders, matching affection with accomplishments?

I have no answers. But I know we are not perfect. Maybe Babies are, for a while.

What I know is that today, baby Lucien receives an abundance of love. In the simplest but most important gestures. A cradled stroll for as long as he fancies no matter how the weight breaks our aging arms, immediate attention to his every whimper, hugs and pats at night, clinical attention to his daily needs and a crazed amount of love that almost always threatens to burst my heart at the seams.

My prayer is for Lucien to always have a child-like purity, that he would always hold these dear and know that all the money in the world would not buy this deep affection and love.

May we, always continue to love him this way, even when he is no longer a babbling roll of cute fat and pinchable pink cheeks.

That we may teach one another the true meaning of Family.

At 2 months and 10 days, Lucien can’t say many words and clearly he can’t yet converse. But we’ve found that he likes to engage in baby babble and some nights, when he’s not sleeping and he isn’t allowing us to anyway, talking with Lucien can be very gratifying as we find him excitably imitating our words. 

So this is the beginning of the Father-Son Speak.

May we always find this much joy in each other’s company; and have such perfect understanding, even when we do not always speak the same language.

[Show as slideshow]

[View with PicLens]

Thank you for making me a doll! You. Made. Me. A. Doll!!!

Eternally one of those things I could never do, because I have fingers that cannot create.  

I love HmmBao. I love that you made it, and each stitch is you painstakingly putting together pieces of nothing into something special.  And HmmBao has that perennial look of Pensive Consideration.  A bit cross.  Definitely strange and very familiar but they kind you just cannot place…Looks like a dog / rabbit/hybrid/out of this world.  

It’s exactly the kind of present I want. 

1. $ cannot buy

2. Only I have the only and only.

3. I have Naming Rights.

4. You made it! And even if you attempted another, it wouldn’t be HmmBao.

I like I like I like! I have so many wonderful surprises this year. I’ve really been blessed.  This year especially. It makes me want to reach out and make Dad feel this way too. I cant bear knowing I have all these and it’s all staying here with me.  

I know we love some people more than we do others. In fact, with some, it’s really so hard to love them.  I hope I will find it in me soon to just let it go; to know that it’s best to let the past stay where it is and let today really count.

Thanks for making me feel this way, a way I hadn’t in these months.

You Win Already Lor.

[Show as slideshow]

[View with PicLens]

This is the first time anyone’s done this.  In the way only you can orchestrate!

Thank you for hiding in my room and cramping in there with the kids and the dogs.  For actually picking out the limpy rabbit that I had just groped the very afternoon before the sales person had to pry it from my fingers saying it’s not appropriate for newborns…and with Ken disapprovingly looking on.  For the mooncaks from the very counter I ran my sweaty palms over, eyes glazed over the sweetness that sit in there waiting for my teeth to sink in…before Lovell reminds me I’ve just finished a dim-sum lunch and surely CANNOT be hungry again… For getting me a purse that’s got the cutest clasp, the kind that I’ve search every vintage store for, the kind I go to lengths to find.

You see, thank you not for the gifts but for always knowing.  Somehow you always do, even if you’re somewhere else, you know my little quirks, irks, hurts and delights. The phrase if I shook my arse you’d know where itches isn’t too far from the truth.

So that’s you. Add to that, your beautiful ways. In every little thoughtfulness.  Even if it’s a stealth operation in the night that requires you to hide yourself, flowers, a rabbit, a purse and gebras and the boys in my room… even if they called me AUNTY!! Even if they underlined 34 years old!! 

You made this year extra warm fuzzy and sweet. Thank you dearie! I don’t mind turning 34 at all this year!!

I hadn’t blogged in a while. Beyond posting some pictures, I really had not been able to really quieten down and address, soothe, acknowledge the quivers deep inside.

I’ve kept myself really busy. If I wasn’t working in some form of other, I’d end the night really early, much earlier than I ever used to and let slumber take over.

Tonight, maybe tonight I can start blogging again. In a way that’s honest again.

I’ve been wanting to save all the pictures and videos I kept of Jujube through her sickness. All of these, I captured with my Blackberry. I know I should back them up somehow. But I never looked at them again since she passed away.

Jujube left us on 15th Jan 2009. Time was about 645am. I cried for probably 6 hours. In between, I took a conference call from home for work. By 2pm, my tears were dried and I was ready to get back into the humdrum of work.

It’s March now. I don’t remember anything else in between until just, when I looked at her videos again.

Fresh tears poured and I sobbed. Very hard.

It’s so important to grieve. To be able to grieve, whether openly, quietly, immediately or months or odd weeks later. I am still grieving.

It’s so hard to accept that all I have of her now are memories and her gaze captured in videos and pictures; like she’s trapped inside that quicktime video. I want to free her, let her out of that frame. Get her out.

Let me hold her. Let me hold her. Let me hold her.

I really don’t deal with death too well, do I?

I am no poet. I am just your friend and guardian. It’s all I need to be to you for you to give me your loyal companionship and love.
15th Jan 2009.
Goodbye Juju Baby. We love you very much. You’ve been such a lovely addition to our family.

Thank you for being the best doggie pal, my bedside buddy to curl up to, the cutest face I wake up to in the mornings and your bright happy eyes never fail to make a rotten day better.

Some day, we’ll play together again. And again. And again. And again.

Love. Daddy and Mommy.

Today, Jujube’s fever has spiked to the 40s again.

Her left front paw has a gaping wound which we had thought was a result of the IV. It was bleeding when I saw her this evening at 630pm and by 8pm, blood was still oozing from the lesion.

On closer examination, similar sores like this have already started to appear all over her body. On her legs, nose, cheeks, tail…

Dr John Paul Ly had thankfully been around and he suspects the lesions are a manifestation of an auto immune deficiency, which basically means her immune system is turning around and attacking her body. This can also be a result of a weakened liver.

We certainly have a really ill dog. Poor Juju now has 2 tubes inserted somewhere at her neck where the doctor will administer all the nutrients and medication she needs, completely bypassing her liver.

We hope this allows her liver to rest and recuperate and become strong again.

For now, her legs are bandaged to stop the bleeding lesions. With care and constant attention to the area, keeping it dry and allowing it space and air to heal, we hope these will go away soon. She must be in so much pain and discomfort. Can you imagine wrapping both your legs up like that?!

Silent strong prayers for Juju this evening. For God’s healing hands to gently nurse her to health. For however great Dr Ly is, however much love and time and attention we give to her, it is in His hands that life flows in abundance and in glory.

I’ve come to a point where I surrender all fear and anxiety. In my darkest desperation, what’s illuminated is the fact that Faith does wonders. But Faith isn’t always about getting your prayers answered the way you want them to be. It’s in trusting that in whatever outcome, His will was done. My heart, or where I think my heart is located, has a sinking hollow that goes right to the pits of my stomach. Yet it feels soothed. In a strange, inexplicable way.

Being this close to Loss makes me understand the true meaning of the word, “Cherish”.

“One more time, God. If you will, because you can, please make Juju well. In your hands, we surrender her life, all of her pain and suffering, that you may give strength and will”.

So this was how the family spent the first weekend of 2009.

Triumphantly. With singing and praises, sometimes in tears, often in fear but never without faith.

Juju just needs to pull through this recovery stage now. With the dedicated and loving team at the ARC, she’s getting the most loving medical attention she can get.

As of today, her blood tests suggest her body’s electrolytes are within normal range. I feel immense relief and pride at her fighting spirit and also heart-felt gratitude for the hardworking team of doctors and care-givers at the Animal Recovery Centre at Balestier. Overall, I am comforted by their professionalism and kindness towards Juju. They’ve encouraged our constant visitation and have never tried to pacify us nor silence us with bombastic medical terms. Dr. Shum takes the time to personally explain each and every symptom and test reading. Even when she’s buzzing busy, she says, “Gotta wait, gotta wait” and always gets back to us.

Dr. Eugene Lim has also always returned calls to us, even post surgery and has openly offered his help whenever we feel we need it.

Honestly, they’re better animal doctors than alot of human doctors…

So I trust Juju is on her road to recovery.

Look out for the Scuttling Ninja Dog soon!