The shittiest chinese new year ever.
So anyways, I have decided to use my livejournal. This decision is probably gonna come back and bite me in the ass one day when some college or job I want to apply to reads this but hey, what the helll. So this chinese new year was the shittiest chinese new year ever. Well the second shittiest one. I'll get back to that later.
So my dad got a stroke, a minor one, thank god on the 20th Jan, like literally two days before chinese new year. I was actually really looking forward to chinese new year, what with all the money, the food, the fun with the cousins. But then again, bad luck or whatever it was swooped down and whacked me in the ass. On friday morning, I woke up late for school. As climbed out of my loftbed, I heard my maid knock on my door. She came in looking worried and told me to go out. I got out and was greeted my an extremely somber-looking colleague of my father. He informed me that my dad had gotten a stroke on the plane back from Shanghai. It was his birthday that day. We were supposed to go to dinner in a nice french place and have a nice cake and my sister and I were supposed to give him his nice gift. Fun.
Mr nice-colleague guy drove me to the airport while a hysterical me called my sister and my father's fiancee. Needless to say, we were all distraught. When I got the A&E where he was being held, I just saw him being wheeled to some godforsaken place. Nothing was processing. Everything was too fast-paced. I needed to talk to a doctor or something, but it just didn't click. When I was finally redirected to the ward where my dad was being held, I had like 4 missed calls from both my dad's fiancee and my sister. I got the ward and all I saw was my dad knocked out on his bed with a very pained expression. I felt my heart crush.
My dad and I have fought on numerous occasions. We have disagreed so much. But when I saw him there all I could think was that it couldn't be possible. It couldn't. He was the only parent I had left. I wanted to cry.
My sister finally arrived and all I remember was hugging her and crying like hell as my dad's other colleague, one that was with my dad on the same flight, regaled her story to us. I couldn't stop crying. My eyes were faucets. It killed me to think that we were so close to losing a parent, not to mention the only parent I had left.
----
Anyways, I said this wasn't the worst chinese new year. Well I take it back, it was. But I had another one that came pretty damn close. It was christmas eve of 2005.
My mother's condition had deteriorated horribly. She was fine mere weeks ago, but some malignant cancer cells found its way into her spine. She had just recovered from breast cancer in 2001. She fell and she fell fast. I was 11 at that time and all I knew was that I didn't want to be around my mom.
That sounded horrible, but its really not. Okay I guess it was but not for the reasons you would think. I hated seeing my mother suffer. It hurt me so much. I just couldn't look at her without wanting to claw myself or just fall down and cry. I was closest to my mom. She was the one who understood me most and the one who cared for me the most. She was strict as hell but she was still reasonable. It killed me so much to see her suffer. I didn't know it at that time but that was how I felt.
We converted our study room on the first floor into a ward room for my mother. She hated the hospital and frankly, so did the rest of the family. We had more than enough. It was an agonizing two weeks were she couldn't respond and was hooked up to oxygen producing machines. On Christmas eve, 2 hours before our annual christmas countdown party at one of my mother's best friend's house, she pulled out her oxygen tube. She said she didn't want to prolong her suffering. On 6:30 that night she was pronounced dead.
Her friend, lets call her Jenni, brought us to her home, told us that it was what my mother wanted us to do. But tell me, how could two primary schoolers who just witnessed the death of their mother enjoy a party? The whole night we felt out of place. When we got home, it was empty. My sister and I ran into my parent's room, jumped on the bed, hugged each other and cried. It was torture. My mother was such an integral part of our lives. It killed us.
The funeral happened over Christmas and boxing day. I can't really remember much now but I remember breaking down at the cremation. All I wanted to do was do something else to get it off my mind. Some of my church friends were there and one proposed going to the zoo. I really wanted to and we were all excited. Then an adult decided to kill, demolish and destroy my bubble. He yelled at us for not respecting my mother and not understanding the sobriety of the situation. I have two words for him now. "FUCK YOU". How the fuck could he swoop down from his high and mighty throne and lecture us like that. WE WERE FUCKING 11. What did he expect? Mourning? I had enough of that! 6 years of my life was spent dealing with the fact that my mother had a terminal disease and was slowly slipping away from us. I was 6 when my mother was first diagnosed. How the fuck can he tell me what to do? All I wanted to do was to have fun and spend time not thinking about the situation.
Well, needless to say the ensuing chinese new year sucked shit. I suffer through days of people with faux-concerned looks, insincere condolences and empty promises. These two phrases get the top vote.
Aron.
So my dad got a stroke, a minor one, thank god on the 20th Jan, like literally two days before chinese new year. I was actually really looking forward to chinese new year, what with all the money, the food, the fun with the cousins. But then again, bad luck or whatever it was swooped down and whacked me in the ass. On friday morning, I woke up late for school. As climbed out of my loftbed, I heard my maid knock on my door. She came in looking worried and told me to go out. I got out and was greeted my an extremely somber-looking colleague of my father. He informed me that my dad had gotten a stroke on the plane back from Shanghai. It was his birthday that day. We were supposed to go to dinner in a nice french place and have a nice cake and my sister and I were supposed to give him his nice gift. Fun.
Mr nice-colleague guy drove me to the airport while a hysterical me called my sister and my father's fiancee. Needless to say, we were all distraught. When I got the A&E where he was being held, I just saw him being wheeled to some godforsaken place. Nothing was processing. Everything was too fast-paced. I needed to talk to a doctor or something, but it just didn't click. When I was finally redirected to the ward where my dad was being held, I had like 4 missed calls from both my dad's fiancee and my sister. I got the ward and all I saw was my dad knocked out on his bed with a very pained expression. I felt my heart crush.
My dad and I have fought on numerous occasions. We have disagreed so much. But when I saw him there all I could think was that it couldn't be possible. It couldn't. He was the only parent I had left. I wanted to cry.
My sister finally arrived and all I remember was hugging her and crying like hell as my dad's other colleague, one that was with my dad on the same flight, regaled her story to us. I couldn't stop crying. My eyes were faucets. It killed me to think that we were so close to losing a parent, not to mention the only parent I had left.
----
Anyways, I said this wasn't the worst chinese new year. Well I take it back, it was. But I had another one that came pretty damn close. It was christmas eve of 2005.
My mother's condition had deteriorated horribly. She was fine mere weeks ago, but some malignant cancer cells found its way into her spine. She had just recovered from breast cancer in 2001. She fell and she fell fast. I was 11 at that time and all I knew was that I didn't want to be around my mom.
That sounded horrible, but its really not. Okay I guess it was but not for the reasons you would think. I hated seeing my mother suffer. It hurt me so much. I just couldn't look at her without wanting to claw myself or just fall down and cry. I was closest to my mom. She was the one who understood me most and the one who cared for me the most. She was strict as hell but she was still reasonable. It killed me so much to see her suffer. I didn't know it at that time but that was how I felt.
We converted our study room on the first floor into a ward room for my mother. She hated the hospital and frankly, so did the rest of the family. We had more than enough. It was an agonizing two weeks were she couldn't respond and was hooked up to oxygen producing machines. On Christmas eve, 2 hours before our annual christmas countdown party at one of my mother's best friend's house, she pulled out her oxygen tube. She said she didn't want to prolong her suffering. On 6:30 that night she was pronounced dead.
Her friend, lets call her Jenni, brought us to her home, told us that it was what my mother wanted us to do. But tell me, how could two primary schoolers who just witnessed the death of their mother enjoy a party? The whole night we felt out of place. When we got home, it was empty. My sister and I ran into my parent's room, jumped on the bed, hugged each other and cried. It was torture. My mother was such an integral part of our lives. It killed us.
The funeral happened over Christmas and boxing day. I can't really remember much now but I remember breaking down at the cremation. All I wanted to do was do something else to get it off my mind. Some of my church friends were there and one proposed going to the zoo. I really wanted to and we were all excited. Then an adult decided to kill, demolish and destroy my bubble. He yelled at us for not respecting my mother and not understanding the sobriety of the situation. I have two words for him now. "FUCK YOU". How the fuck could he swoop down from his high and mighty throne and lecture us like that. WE WERE FUCKING 11. What did he expect? Mourning? I had enough of that! 6 years of my life was spent dealing with the fact that my mother had a terminal disease and was slowly slipping away from us. I was 6 when my mother was first diagnosed. How the fuck can he tell me what to do? All I wanted to do was to have fun and spend time not thinking about the situation.
Well, needless to say the ensuing chinese new year sucked shit. I suffer through days of people with faux-concerned looks, insincere condolences and empty promises. These two phrases get the top vote.
- "If you ever need anything, just call me okay?" It felt really nice hearing that. But we tried calling, and all we got were: "oh I'm busy now, call me later?" Fuck off please.
- "Its all part of God's plan" CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP. Like my mother just died. All I'm hearing is that God took her away from me and there's nothing you can do about it, live with it. Whenever I hear that, I cringe and have the urge to throw something heavy.
Aron.