Soul Doctor speaks...: Parents Series: July 15, 2022 @ Juxtaposition

Juxtaposition - what life is to me at this moment. It is juxtaposition, irony and everything bittersweet.

I’ve returned from my mini whirlwind work ‘tour’ of Penang - Ipoh - KL - Singapore and haven’t seen my parents since last Wednesday. In my absence, both of them have tested positive with Covid, mom still cannot stand or walk from her fall three weeks ago. I dropped in this morning to visit them both - to assist with Covid home tests. Dad was looking healthy and fit despite still testing positive. Mom is a small, scrawny child sitting in the wheelchair with her arms folding in which she cannot undo without help. She tested negative. She mumbles, her gaze weak, she winces in pain when people talk in full voices around her, above her chair, discussing her well being and what to do next. There are bruises on her elbows.

Eventually I left, taking their test kits with me. Sister and I huddled over our lunch bowls in SS 2 and discussed looking for palliative care for mom and the eventual looking for funeral services. My sister told me about her recent church gigs at funeral services and masses. “Death is such a common affair, but we dramatize it so much, we are so afraid to talk about it and plan for it.”

When I look at this photo my good friend took of me at a dinner two nights ago, I see a picture of the juxtaposition I am in: where I am now in life is at the peak of my career, alive, youthful, and always in motion, creating and shaping up new things for people around me; whereas for my mom - she is in the depth, in the abyss of a body failing on her, nearing the peak of her being totally dependent on others to do everything for her.

I cannot look away from this feeling of irony and I guess, in some ways - I want to remember how this feels like - to compensate or justify for the guilt I feel when I’m away from her side - living my fabulous life.

All of this, heightens everything I feel when I’m on stage, singing and dancing under the bright stage lights. I have to deliberately turn away my most inner thoughts so I can focus on the elating songs I am performing.

As I wring myself to dry every week juggling new and old emotions, and tasks of self-care and caregiving to others - I marvel at how I am able to carry on, working and laughing, and being sad almost all the time.

How wonderful this is - the thing we do that is coping. We are such amazing strong creatures.

Then I took an hour or two of break from work to eat and read Sallie Tisdale’s Advice For Future Corpses. I realize the act I am in - I am preparing for death. The act of reading up on dementia, on death and dying - it’s a preparation for death, of my parents, of my own.

I suddenly thought of Justin’s departure. One so sudden and out of the blue - and of the one that my sister and I are facing now - parents, one so drawn out, slow and roller-coaster like…, the other one so quick and sharp.

Is the mourning of one death more painful than the other? Is there a way to even compare ? Why am I even sitting here to compare ?

Am I trying to justify my pain now with the old one I had when I lost Justin in the bike accident - on that fine sunny Sunday morning ? With the one now I’m going through with my mom’s struggle in her final (who knows anyway) chapter…?

I think they are the same - painful and feels eternal.

But life is fleeting.

This juxtaposition overwhelms me and calms me all at once. What I can do now is to do my best. Be kind, be calm, and always try to rest better.