In Living Memory

 

It was a simple scrap of paper.

We were in her bedroom. I was looking through bags that hadn’t been touched in ages, pulling out odds and ends. She was still well enough to sit in the armchair and watch me through shallow breaths. Her lungs had been filling up with fluid since April, maybe March.

She’d saved all sorts of things over the years. Notebooks, old clothes, newspaper clippings. And this one little scene I’d scribbled in a notepad so long ago, doubtless in a moment of inspiration. I’d forgotten all about it, hadn’t thought of that character in years. But she’d kept it.

Bemused, I showed it to her. She looked back at me steadily.

“You don’t write anymore,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say.

I had written, you understand. A few blog posts here and there, long paragraphs in online forums. Thoughts about the pandemic, about civil unrest, about a game I’d been playing and the feelings it evoked. But I’d also been busy with work and personal problems and managing my own emotions. This year I no longer wrote most nights, not even for weeks at a time. I hadn't opened my fantasy novel in months. The lockdown, my birthday, Mother’s Day. Calendar pages racing by, counting down the time we had left.

She passed away six days later.

***

It’s been nearly two months now since my mom died. We’ve passed the forty-day mark, returning to our normal routines. We’ve begun to move on. This slow forgetting, it bothers me. I don’t want to leave her in the past. And yet I must. The past isn’t meant to be lived in.

My mom used to tell me about my ancestors. Our Kadazan heritage with some Chinese blood mixed in, and my father’s biological mother back in the US; she compiled part of my grandfather’s memoirs from World War II. I was never interested when I was younger. It was all so far in the past, after all. But now that she’s gone, it hits me that this is how my children (when I have them) will know her: through the stories I tell them. They won’t have anything else.

That phrase, in living memory. Now I understand how much it means. At what point is someone gone forever? When everyone who ever knew them is gone too?

You could say that death is the greatest motivator of all. What is the building of a legacy if not the desire to leave something behind? Is it because we know how little anything lasts? We live our fragile lives and then it’s over. The people that we were, the memories that we cherished. All those joys and loved ones and struggles and sorrows. It hits me now, so horribly real: this is what will happen to my mother. And to me someday. It will happen to you too. We will all be forgotten.

It’s funny. Until this point in my life, the present was always better than what came before. I rarely looked back and longed for the good old days. Now I do.

I want so desperately for her life to mean something.

***

I went to a local performing arts event the other day. It was inspiring, all the different performances and the raw emotions on display. Something else that spoke to me, though, was advice to the performers from an audience member afterward. A long-time participant in the local arts scene himself, he had this to say: don’t stop. Someday you’ll get to a point where you’re tired and wonder why you’re doing this. You’ll feel like you need a break from it all. And the people who walk away, sometimes they don’t come back.  

I felt that in my soul.

Sometimes I get tired, depressed, unmotivated. I feel like nothing I do makes a difference. But she was a writer herself. She wouldn’t have wanted me to stop. Not when there are experiences to share and stories to be told.

Perhaps this, then, is her legacy. Here I am, still trying to shape my thoughts and feelings into a form that others can understand. I’ve always wanted to inspire, to share what little wisdom I can. To talk about the things that matter.

I still remember walking down the road to the town library with my mom as a little boy, under autumn leaves and a New England sky; and all the other libraries since. All the years we went for lunch at a pizza place that shut down back in March due to the pandemic. Fitting enough that I’ll never go back. That time we waded in the ocean and watched the sun set over the islands. Going to the movies, walking through the forest, flying halfway around the world and back. All the travels and adventures and memories, happy and poignant and bittersweet.

All the ways I can try to put my love for her into words.

Mom's Eulogy

Dedicated to my mother, Clare Fiona Maluda, who passed away on August 10th, 2020 at 2:16pm. I read this at her funeral.

Good morning everyone, thank you all for coming. I'd like to begin with a verse from the First Epistle of Peter. 

'Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.' 

1 Peter 3:3-4 

My mother was a gentle and quiet spirit. She touched the world in many different ways. And she made her own choices in life, right until the end. 

Education mattered to her. Growing up, she was an excellent student. Her passion for learning led her to study all the way on the other side of the world in Massachusetts, where she graduated with a Master of Arts in Teaching. My mother always remembered her time there fondly. She loved the United States. I wouldn't be here otherwise. 

She was also the one who gave me my love of reading. Some of my fondest memories are of going to the library together, from New Hampshire back when I was a little boy to here in Sabah today. We’d borrow new books and go out for pizza and ice cream together. Looking back, it’s these little things that stand out the most. I’m glad that we made so many treasured memories. 

My mom also loved nature. She enjoyed gardening and being outdoors, and could grow anything under the sun. When I was young we went hiking and took long walks in the forest. We had our fair share of adventures. 

She would always encourage me with my writing, even though we had different interests. As a writer herself, she inspired me with the beauty of the written word. 

To her family, she was a daughter, sister, aunty, granddaughter, grandaunty, cousin, and niece. To others, she was a colleague and a friend. Kind and generous to a fault, she would never fail to put others first. She was a light in all of our lives. 

And to me, she was my mother. I love her more than words can say. She will be dearly missed. 

Thank you.

Rise of the Tomb Raider - Facing Death Itself

I’ve been playing Rise of the Tomb Raider on the weekends.

It’s a stunning sequel. After the events of the first game, Lara Croft has returned to civilization traumatized by what she saw on the island and what she did to survive. Delving into her late father’s legacy, she realizes that he was on the trail of something supernatural, even though the academic community decried him as a fraud. A villainous organization called Trinity seeks to use his research to find the Divine Source, an artifact which Byzantine legends claim can grant eternal life. So begins a race against time as Lara jets off to far-flung Siberia to reach the Source before Trinity does.

You travel through a world of snow-covered peaks, montane forests and long-lost ruins. The beauty of the wilderness is marred by grim relics of the Soviet Union and the more recent brutality of Trinity’s depredations. Conflict is never far, whether you’re sniping foes with a bow or blowing them away with a shotgun.

In between firefights, you run around scaling cliffs, leaping across chasms, and descending into the darkest depths of human history. Lara never slows down; she can’t. Even as she races towards her goal, she’s also running from herself. Once she was a frightened girl who was forced to grow into a survivor. But what is she now?

A series of recorded therapy sessions after the island illustrates this. At one point the therapist asks if she liked taking control. Lara grows defensive; she had no choice, she says. It was all to save herself and her friends. She had to act, to fight back, to become a killer. The recording ends with the comment that Lara may have to face a hard truth about the person she’s become.

That was when I put the controller down and thought about why I’m playing this game. What does it mean to take control?

***

I’ve always loved video games. I’ve often felt their seductive pull, ignoring the real world for the fantasy they create. And I’ve noticed that I play the most when there’s something on my mind. As Nir Eyal put it in Indistractable, you can’t call something a distraction unless you know what it’s distracting you from.

We live in uncertain times. The year is only half gone, but so much has happened in 2020. We’ve all been confronted by an illness that can strike without warning, a faltering economy, and the turmoil of mass protests against racial injustice that have gripped the world.

And my mom’s cancer is getting worse.

I’m 29 years old now. Looking back, I’ve grown so much in my twenties. I’ve pushed my own limits, done things I only dreamed about when I was younger. Some days I still wish that the years had played out differently. Other times I remind myself that every step has led me to be the man I am today. This is my life, for better or worse.

But nothing prepares you for a parent reaching the end of theirs.

***

In Rise of the Tomb Raider, Lara comes to terms with her father’s death. But her actions hold shades of grey. At one point, she fights off a horde of enemies attempting to break into an ancient sanctum – only to rip the door open herself. Trinity believes theirs is a noble goal and will use any means to reach it. Just how different is Lara, in the end? How ruthless has she become?

I haven’t finished the game. I don’t know how it all ends. But I can relate to wanting to fight the inevitable.

It’s comforting to step into the role of the heroine. Delving into long-forgotten tombs, evading traps and solving puzzles. Ambushing bad guys from the shadows, hurling Molotov cocktails for fiery explosions. Finally gathering enough Byzantine gold to trade for a military-grade assault rifle. Saving the day with her superior skills and acumen and defiance of impossible odds, facing down death itself.

We all want to believe in the illusion of control.

Because in reality, whether it’s a bolt from the blue or a slow decline, someday the family who raised us will fade away. No longer children, we’ll be left with the legacy of who they were and what they left behind on this earth.

And it will be up to us to find the strength to carry on in their stead.

 

 

Barely Breathing

Protests rage across America.

Riots broke out last week following the death of George Floyd, an African American man detained by a white police officer who knelt on his neck for almost nine minutes. It was only the latest of many, many, many incidents of police brutality towards African Americans. The anger spread like wildfire. People across the country, and the world, stood up to proclaim that Black Lives Matter. 

Delinquents and anarchists took advantage of the protests, looting and burning with abandon. Some police officers responded with the same violence they were condemned for, firing tear gas and rubber bullets into crowds at point blank range. Curfews were announced. The National Guard was called in. Protesters have been killed.

Over 100,000 Americans have died from the COVID-19 pandemic. 40 million more are unemployed. And the country is led by a man who had peaceful protestors cleared away from the White House by force so that he could stand in front of a church, hold up a Bible for the cameras, and pretend he gives a shit about Christian values. 

Welcome to the USA in 2020.

***

My mother loved the United States. She flew across the world to further her education in Massachusetts. She fell in love, got married, and had me. We haven’t lived in the US for over twenty years, but she remembers. To this day, she talks about me going back.

My father once called the United States the most uncivilized civilized country in the world. A true blue Democrat, over the years he’s told me about the unthinking greed and ignorance that causes the worst kind of human behaviour, and how he saw it driving the nation’s increasingly polarized politics.

And then there’s me, the product of these two very different views of the United States. I’ve talked about my ambivalence towards the US before. I wonder whether I should even be saying anything at all. But I’ve decided that I should. As someone born in the United States; as a person of mixed heritage. And as a human being.

Because I wonder: if I’d been raised in the US, would I have grown up with white privilege? Probably. My skin is light enough. Then again, so many people say I look Chinese. It would be truly ironic if I went back to the US and people there started calling me Asian.

One thing’s for sure: I’ve never had to worry about being harassed by police officers just because of how I look. I’ve never had to fear being attacked because people saw me as a threat. I’ve never had to deal with a system of racial and cultural oppression that went from slavery to segregation to ingrained prejudices that still have yet to die. I’ve never had to face the sheer injustice of being born into a country that stifles the person that you are.

No one deserves to live like they're barely breathing.

Racism is not just an American thing. It’s a human thing. One of our darkest tendencies, to mistreat others based on how they look and dress and what faith they follow. To think in terms of us and them. Will we ever change, or are we doomed to keep repeating the same mistakes until the end of time?

I can only add my voice to the chorus. The time to change is now.

To everyone out there marching for a better world and a brighter future: good luck and Godspeed. 

A Mother's Love

Love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. 

– JK Rowling

It’s Mother’s Day today. Flowers are pretty and chocolates are sweet, but this year I’d like to offer something with a little more permanence. That’s the great thing about writing. It allows us to express our thoughts, feelings, and memories in a form that will last. 

Today I’m talking about my mom. 

***

A mother’s love is like no other. It can be wildfire, consuming all that stands in its path. It can be the warmth we seek when our days grow cold. It can be a stubborn faith that believes in us against all odds. 

As children, our mothers are the centre of our existence. They feed us, bathe us, and smile (or growl) at the messes we make. They make us lunch and fold our laundry and sew up the holes in our blankets. They hold us when we cry over a cut finger or a skinned knee. They kiss us good night. Time passes, ages to us but only a scant few years to them. 

As teenagers, we become aware of ourselves and our burgeoning adulthood. Now we crave – we demand! – our independence. Walls appear that were never there before as we distance ourselves from the children we were and the mothers who seem intent on treating us as such. The love which was so sweet before has grown stifling. 

As young adults, we forge our own paths into the future. Our mothers are now just one part of the complicated tapestry of our lives. We think of them fondly when we have the time. Perhaps we fail to recognise how their hair has thinned and their hands have grown wrinkled. Until one day, something shocks us into awareness, and we discover anew the love that was there all along.

*** 

Anne Frank said that regret is stronger than gratitude. That’s human nature for you. We only appreciate what we have when we realise that it won't be around forever. Now is the time to be thankful for our loved ones. And to tell them too!  

So to my grandmother, my aunties, my older cousins, and most importantly, my mom: thank you for all the goodness you've brought into my life. It means the world to me.

Today is the day to think about our mothers. Give them a hug, bake them a cake, do something special. Show your love in a way that’s meaningful to you and her. Maybe even put it in writing. 

Love you, mom. 

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

Three Tips For Staying Sane While Staying At Home

Here we are, still in quarantine.

By now we’ve adjusted to the movement control order. COVID-19 continues to wreak havoc on the world, though here in Malaysia the preventative measures seem to be working. We’re lucky that both our government and the public at large are taking this seriously, doing what needs to be done. That isn’t the case in other parts of the world.

The global economy is taking a nosedive, that’s for sure. Millions of jobs lost and opportunities no longer available, entire industries like tourism massively affected. Scary times ahead. The puzzle pieces of our old lives have been scattered, and it’s harder than ever to predict what the future will look like. 

During these troubled times, practical quarantine advice is all over the internet. How to stick to a routine; to stay connected with friends and family; to relax without wearing a butt-shaped groove into the couch. (Who am I kidding, you’ve probably done that already.) Today I want to talk about how we’re thinking while we’re all stuck indoors. Among the many crises ahead of us, mental health isn’t one to be taken for granted.

Today I’m talking about perspective.

Here are three tips for staying sane while staying at home.

1. Check your expectations.

I daresay most of us want to make this time worthwhile, whether that means focusing on our families, learning new skills, or building the perfect island in Animal Crossing. But it can be hard to escape the nagging feeling that we’re not doing enough. We’re contradictory creatures, humans. We dream about having more free time, yet in excess it becomes overwhelming. What was once an oasis in our busy lives stretches out into an ocean of eternity.

Here’s a reminder that we’re in uncharted waters here. In life and in quarantine, no one knows what they’re doing. Everyone’s trying to keep from going under. Don’t beat yourself up for whatever you haven’t done; focus on what you’re doing right now. Take a deep breath and keep swimming.

2. Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.

I’ve always been in the ‘If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well’ camp. But this opposing quote makes a lot of sense. You don’t need to give 110%. Giving 50% (heck, even 20%) is still better than not doing the thing at all. The irony of perfectionism is that this is often what happens. We’re so wrapped up in our desire for things to be exactly the way we want that we become paralyzed by the need for perfection. We burn out before we even begin. Kind of sad, don’t you think?

To put it another way, we must accept doing things badly before we can ever do them well. In a results-oriented world, it can be hard to credit anything less than success. But whether it’s a wonky chord, a messy paragraph, or a loaf of burned bread, our efforts build up over time. We learn through failure.

If you’re working on new skills or long-neglected hobbies during the lockdown, don’t be discouraged by poor results. It’s all part of the process.

3. Reflect on what normality means to you. 

When the quarantine is over and the virus has been defeated, we’ll enter the new normal: a world of grim economic prospects, social distancing, and refraining from shaking people’s hands. It will probably take years to get back to the way things were before. 

But think about whether the old version of normality was working. Were you making enough time for your family? Were you working on personal goals or constantly putting them off for tomorrow? Were you getting enough rest, not just getting sucked into a morass of scrolling social media every night?

Too often in the world, what’s normal is decided by inertia. Now is the time to reflect. Breathe, meditate, journal. What do you want to carry forwards and what deserves to be left behind?  

When we piece the puzzle of our lives back together, it’s up to us to decide how we want the future to look. 

Year of the Virus

Here we are in quarantine.

It’s a scary time to be alive. Pandemics don’t just happen every day. Right now, we’re living through a period that will go down in history for its global repercussions and economic fallout. Staying at home is cool and socially responsible now. Washing your hands, sitting on your couch, avoiding other people? You’re saving the day, my friend.

No really, I mean that. This is the best thing we can do right now. We need to stop the virus in its tracks, to cut off the chain of infections. Practicing social distancing is the smart thing to do. Ignoring the medical advice and warnings from the authorities and mounting casualties from around the world…

Yeah, not smart.

So we sit at home, confined to our tiny kingdoms. Extroverts suffer and introverts rejoice until they start feeling the strain as well. People need people, it’s how we’re wired. Now more than ever is a time to appreciate the power of the internet. Video calls, text messaging, online communities. These are the things that get us through the days. We’re all in one big long-distance relationship now.

When we do venture out for food or essential work, masks on and hand sanitizer at the ready, we find a world far quieter than the one we remembered. Buildings shuttered, roads empty of traffic. Queues and temperature checks at the pharmacies and supermarkets. We see pictures online of unpolluted skies and sparkling rivers, wild animals venturing into deserted streets. Nature is finally getting a chance to catch her breath.

To be honest, I kind of like it.

Not the circumstances, to be sure. But I like having the time to be still. This feels like my mother’s chemo, those long days at her bedside in the hospital ward, reading books and playing with my phone and staring out the window. Torn between fear and anxiety and distraction and boredom. Hoping modern medicine will prevail against an illness that struck out of nowhere.

Here we are in quarantine. It’s a time to slow down, to consider what’s working in our lives and what we’re better off without. To strengthen our relationships while we have the chance. To play games and solve puzzles and exercise together. Time to pick up new skills or improve existing ones, cooking and baking and indoor gardening. Learning a language, playing an instrument, taking up drawing again. Time to read books and binge Netflix and clear out your video game backlog.

Time to maintain a daily routine. To show up for work on time even when you’re working from your bedroom. To take deep breaths when your kids are screaming, the walls are closing in, and the future is more uncertain than ever. Time for prayer and meditation. We all need something to believe in right now.

Time to keep calm and carry on, because this isn’t over yet.

So I sit here at 10:30pm, typing this out to My Chemical Romance playing in the background, thinking absently that The Black Parade is one of the best albums ever made. Danger Days isn’t bad either. I wonder how long it will take before the virus is defeated, and what the world will look like when that happens.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.