水曜日, 12月 07, 2005

The Paper

Life being eaten up by the Paper. Even my dad has pitched in on doing research for the Paper. He's been sending me links to original sources from across the Pacific. At least it distracts him from building the house he says he's going to build on our family land--a mid-life crisis, no doubt. (My friend Daniel quipped: "Under the Taiwanese Sun.")

土曜日, 12月 03, 2005

I was going to fill the page with some funny stories from summer, some random attempts at translation, but then I dropped by Jaquandor's place.

Having drifted away of from blog-reading during Thanksgiving break, I didn't read of the sorrowful news until last night. It was a shock to learn that his son had died. Little Quinn's slow journey had been an inspiration--and because it was easy to take it as such, you subconsciously expected that happy ending for all uplifting stories. It was not to be. Yet, even now, Jaquandor's words teach us what is sorrow and what is love:
The viewing itself was a pretty surreal affair. One of our concerns was that Little Quinn wouldn't look "right", not because he's dead but because when he was sleeping, his cerebral palsy resulted in him sleeping in fairly specific positions: his big tendency was to turn his head slightly to the right, and his mouth would take on this "crooked" little frown-thing. But somehow, the funeral people got that exactly right, and for quite a while last night I expected him to just suddenly stretch, like he often did while napping. Alas.
And
He was fifteen months old, and he had only just started to find his voice, to reach for things that caught his eye, to lift his head and to hold my gaze. He was only starting to know our touch. He was only starting to know us...and then he was gone. And after forty-one days in the hospital when he was born, and nine more this summer when he had bronchitis, after being intubated so many times and after having two surgeries...for him to leave us as he did, in the shortest of moments and so quietly, has made me wonder if he was ever here at all. I sometimes wonder if we ever had a son, if Haley ever had a brother, or if it was all some dream that lasted too long and yet ended too soon.But he was here. He was here, and he taught us more about what matters in life than we could have learned if we could somehow read all of the words of wisdom written in all the books in all the world. He taught us strength; he taught us which battles to fight; he taught us that, having chosen our battles, we should never yield in fighting them; he taught us true fear and true hope, true despair and true light, true anger and the truest love we have ever known.And he did all that in fifteen months.How strange it is that I, having spent all of my life in the company of teachers, would learn the most from this little baby who spent both too long and too short a time trapped in a body he could never quite bend to his will.

木曜日, 12月 01, 2005

Not Dead Yet

Reviving this blog. Will be posting random things from the private journal to take up space. :)