death

it's been awhile.

my uncle has had liver cancer for the past two years. i did not once dare to see him. while my parents had the courage to visit him on multiple occasions, i've found myself far too cowardly to make the comparably short visit to see a man that was condemned to certain death. a man who once gave me piggyback rides and bought me candy.

of my relatives, from both my mother and father's side of the family, i've found only two generous souls. by which i mean, they are not takers, nor will they expect something from you in return should they do you a favor big or small. one of these generous souls happen to be my uncle with liver cancer. he passed away some two weeks ago. i found myself compelled, found it my duty, an unshakable obligation, to attend his funeral. with that, i made arrangements to make my second trip to the east coast.

i cannot say i have ever been very connected or close to my uncle, him being on the east coast and me being on the west. even so, i have always revered him and thought of him as a good, honest, respectable man. as i entered his home, i think of all the wonderful family moments he must've had over the years in the foyer, the kitchen, the living room. i look at the furniture and imagine him and a younger version of my aunt buying it together, shopping, looking for the perfect piece to complete their home. i think about their home and the excitement they must've felt when they first purchased it.

cousins i haven't seen in at the very least 10 years file into the room. my, how they've grown. what memorable memories have you shared and lost with you dad? i go down to the basement while my mom gives me a run through of the remodeling.

my uncle owned a chinese restaurant. as with most family owned chinese restaurants, the owners were also the head chef and head waitress. working conditions were crap, usually 12-14 hour days, pending prep work and when customers decide to leave at night.
so it seemed relatives from china would be arriving soon with nowhere to stay. my generous soul of an uncle decides to renovate his basement for these relatives. insulation, sliding glass doors, bathroom, bedroom, living room: all built by his bare hands. construction ensuing to the wee hours of the early morning (usually lasting until 4am). while my mom was telling me all this, i look at all the work and late nights he put in. all of the attention to detail he must have paid. everything was done to perfection, almost surpassing that of a professional contractor. and she says, "it is while he was building this basement that he got sick. too much hard work." i'm not so sure i believe that. hard work leading to cancer? i don't know. but it still saddens my heart thinking of my uncle slaving so many days to rush and make sure everything is perfect before his relatives arrive. doing the math, it sounds like 16-18 solid hard labor work hours every day. my heart ached for him. him and his family.

the viewing ceremony is also on the day that i arrive. a picture of him is on a table before the casket. just the way i remembered him. he has the same twinkle in his eye that my father has. i just can't understand... the life of this great man... taken so early.

looking at my aunt, my heart reach toward her, but i can't quite find the words, so i keep to myself. i can't help feeling her sadness for my own. sleeping with somebody every night for 20 years. waking up to the same person every morning. sharing so many happy moments together, now gone. how do you recover from something like that? how can you invest your life in someone only to find out how fragile that someone is? you have to wake up every day after he is gone. you have to go to work. you have to take care of your children. you have to make ends meet. after he is gone, you have to somehow go on. why? why do you have to?

my uncle's death made me think of two questions:

1. why would you invest your life in something so fragile? they say to love, you must let go of all conservations of yourself. in doing so, you're putting all of yourself into one person. a person you cannot control the fate of. a person where, if he were to die, it would hurt you much more than if you, yourself, were to die. knowing this, why are we so willing to invest?

2. why must you go on? if you have already invested all of yourself in this one person, how is it even conceivably possible for you to go on? you've given everything you have, or rather, you've given the essence that is you to him, and he is dead, taking the essence of you with him into his grave. what is there to go on with?

of course, i come to these views from my own very pessimistic take on life. there is no afterlife, therefore, when you die, that's it. there is nothing else. so what difference does it make if you end your life right there? to address question number one, why should i invest? it seems to be the thing to do nowadays. the dream come true. true love like none other. but the bigger the gain, the bigger the loss. and when your love is so tremendously great, how bearable will the loss be?

my thoughts have been sitting on the darker side lately. reaching far and spending my courage on hope and faith in the belief that true love conquers all. my dwindling courage leaves me to reevaluate my own situation. crying at the thought of good times spent with a loved one when the thought should happily pop into mind is not a way i want to pass time. cut my losses? that only means one thing: i can never be happy. i have always viewed life in this way.

i have always seen life to possess a subtle equality to the mysterious ways of the world. in every task performed, the amount of positive emotion placed is equal to the amount of negative emotion to ensue should that task not follow through as you had initially expected. so how much positive emotion comes with true love? children? grandchildren? i am unsure of whether i have the strength to withhold the loss of a husband after a 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 year marriage. how do you pick up the pieces when you are old enough for retirement? how do you pick up the pieces when you have worked hard all your life waiting to spend the rest of retirement with your beloved? how do you pick up the pieces when there is nothing left in your life? children are grown, they have families of their own. friends have their own families to attend to. after a life of warmth and togetherness, you are sentenced to who knows how many years of loneliness. my heart aches thinking about the pain to come.

so now your choices are thus: choose a life of loneliness never truly knowing the joys of marriage and family OR endure a pain so deep, you either commit suicide or ... well commit suicide. not such a hard decision if you ask me.