Goal: Writing a book about my mom
June 28, 2023 – Here’s a beautiful picture of my mom with my daughter Zoe taken almost 20-years ago at one of our favourite dim sum restaurants (that no longer exists) in Burnaby, BC. This image is exactly how I remember my mom. She has a different photo of herself at the cemetery. It’s a photo of her from when she immigrated into Canada over 50-years ago. It’s shocking to think how much time has passed by. My mom passed away on February 27, 2018. She was dying from cancer from the liver and she chose to MAID (medical assistance in dying).
I cannot believe that she has been gone for more than 5-years. I think about her all of the time and I remember her last day on earth as if it just happened yesterday. Yesterday was her birthday. I collected a few photos of her from my phone based on a quick search and here are a few of them on this page. I wanted to write a book about her ever since she passed away. Originally, I wanted to write the book soon after she died in 20-days. I could not do it. The crying got in the way. I tried jotting down some ideas, but would always be distracted (i.e., due to more crying).
I chose the book title to be “20-Days” because it was 20-days from when she was admitted into the hospital to when she died I had the privilege and honour to take care of her on a full-time basis. I dropped everything. Looking back, I wondered why I was not able to get a sessional position that winter term. I was meant to be with my mom. She waited for me to finish my doctorate degree. I defended my dissertation on August 17, 2017 and convocated from SFU in October 2017. She waited a long time. Gosh. I’ve always admired her sheer will and determination.
My mom was a strong person. I did not really have the chance to know my mom in a good way until I had spent that intentional time with her at the hospital. I do have one regret of not staying with her on the first night when we brought her to emergency. She insisted that everyone go home, but I really wanted to stay. My brother, sister, and dad were all going back home… so I just followed. I live with that regret today, but thinking about Daniel Pink’s book on “The Power of Regret” and I am led to believe it was meant to happen and I was meant to learn from it.
I took care of my mom for her last 20-days, with the help of family, of course. I’d say that I spent the most time with her at the hospital. People were working and I wanted to be with her and take care of her when I could. I thought it was peculiar when the health care staff, whether it be a doctor, nurse, or care aid, would ask me if I was a nurse. Um. No. I’m in education. I did find it fascinating to witness how hospitals work in comparison to schools, and I was excellent with my Level 2 First Aid courses in the past when I was the first aid attendant. Nope. I’m a teacher.
That said, I wanted to take care of my mom. Oh boy, the experience clearly showed to me that I had differing opinions from my older siblings and dad. We all handle grief differently and each of us had a different role to play during these 20-days. Overtime, I just wanted to take care of my mom “my own way” and disagreed with my family at times and just did some things behind their back, but let my mom know, of course. For example, I did not give her sleeping pills on her last sleep. I could not do it. She would often wake up groggy. I hated it. So, I stayed up all night.
My mom said to the family that day that it was her best sleep. It made me happy. I wanted her last day to be her best day. Over the 20-days, I got to see my mom transform over time. I also got the time to get to know her as a person. Damn. She was funny. She also had very clear principles of what was good and what was bad. Thad day, my mom asked me to be in the ambulance to be with her to go to the hospital. I wondered why. She spoke in Cantonese, but my aunties said that she said that I think differently from others and I don’t follow the crowd. Also, she mentioned that my dad was clumsy . LOL. Ah yes, her sense of humour prevails.
Just scrolling through these photos, I am so appreciative of her and how she was so willing to take a photo (aka. selfie). She hated taking photos. I think she was self conscious, but I always thought she took the best photos in our whole family. She loved flowers and she loved family. She valued human connection and meeting the person where they are. I never understood that as a child but now understand after she passed away that she treated us differently to meet each of our needs. I was so shocked and mesmerized to learn this, but in the end, I’m not surprised.
I am being reflective right now and often wonder why I am inspired to start writing again about my mom. I’ve tried and tried again, but could never get past the crying. Now that I am looking at her photos and developing this webpage one day after her birthday, I think that it is time. I feel good about writing and these images are bringing me much joy. I am also wondering if the timing is right. I’ve always felt that my mom was always teaching me up until her last breath. Now I believe that she continues to teach me and encourage me to do what right and best for me.
Look at this photo below. Here I am sleeping over night at her condo. Here she is lying on the couch talking to me (and not feeling well). Still, she smiles and takes a photo with me. She’s blind. She lost her vision due to glaucoma. I love her so much. I remember her telling me over and over again. “Why do you call me? You know there will be one day I’ll be dead and you won’t be able to call me. So call me.” Dark, I know. I knew deep down inside, she was joking, but I also know she wanted to check in with me too. My siblings would call her regularly. I was that child. LOL.
This is my mom below. She was bedridden, blind, and on medication to manage her pain, and yet she insisted on planning and hosting a “double duck dinner” at the condo for friends and family. I believe that was on Day 16. She ordered the food, invited the people, and got dressed up for the day. She was the hostess with the mostest. She gave a speech, spoke to everyone, and continued to be in control. I think that was her main drive with MAID. She wanted her autonomy back. She hated relying on others. and she wanted to exercise her agency and destiny.
I know how she feels. Geez. Apple-tree, I guess. Now I know it is time to write this book about my mom. I have good feelings and not one tear was shed during this webpage development. I am reminded of a lot of good memories of those 20-days, but I am realizing that the time is right with my work, my mindset, and my life. I am exploring my ethnic identity and my mom plays an integral role of who I am. Maybe this book will be a self-study. I am very interested in getting this project started. I have stored some notes, images, and recordings of her. I think it’s time.
