Letter to Lisa

Dear Lisa,

I am sorry that I never called. You probably thought that I just disappeared and how unfair of me to leave without a proper goodbye. The thought of picking up the phone and dialing your number crossed my mind so often, but as each day progressed, it seemed more reasonable to write instead. I have searched for your e-mail address, or even looked up Kisha's studio to see whether I could get your mailing address, yet nothing came up. A year has gone by without contacting you, and now even calling becomes unrealistic.

You've taught me so much about happiness that I could not have learned otherwise. Without you, everything is so difficult. I try and keep on trying, but can only find my true self in these worthless sobbing words. Then all start from zero the moment I begin to sympathize my little insignificant soul. I fall, far into the bottomless darkness, and let the timelessness take over my fear. If I were lucky, if God allows, let me remember your voice so that I regain something to hold on to. You see, I couldn't call you, and I couldn't say goodbye. I fear that our goodbye will erase you from my memory, and I need you so to remind me of my worth. So, Lisa, please forgive me for being rude and heartless. I am too selfish to let you go.

yours truly.

Regrets

"Life is like a dream. Sometimes I think I'm still dreaming."

Nana,

They told me that you fell the other day and broke your leg. You are in a fragile state right now - don't get me wrong, by fragile I meant your health, not your spirit. Should it Never be your spirit... Please listen to the doctors and let them take care of you. Mom said that you were complaining about difficulty in breathing. They couldn't tell you. Don't blame them. Yes it has spread to your lungs... You already knew.

You've always been optimistic and brave. But now at the final hours of life, what are going through your mind? You told me that you had a good life and there was nothing else you would ask for. But Nana, are you sad? Are you scared? I try to empathize (you hate sympathies,) yet could not comprehend what it would be like to face death. Forgive me for not able to ease your pain. And forgive me for failing to understand what you are going through.

Perhaps you had no regrets, but allow me to tell you mine.

I regret that I wasn't around much to get to know you better. You have always been my favorite relative whom I never once dreaded to visit. You are an intelligent woman and a wonderful human being. It always amazes me that you speak such fluent english and have a broad knowledge in art, history, music, or anything else, while ironically, you lived in a sexist country where women had no education or social status. How did you do it?

I regret that I wasn't around to help you to write a memoir. You gave up on the idea because of your eyesight. Nana, I would sit down with you and record everything you have to say. I would. I really wanted to.

I regret that we never finish our conversation about religion. When I saw you this summer, you told me about your relationship with God. Nana, your english was so good and your story intrigued me: you were once a young devoted christian. When science and evolution seemed to contradict with what you faithfully believed, you were hurt. Then the amount of guilt that was piling up on your shoulders became too heavy for you to bear. So one day, you prayed to God: "Father, take my life tonight. Let my death be an evidence of your powerful existence." You left a note under the pillow explaining your death, then prayed, cried, and prayed more. How young and naive you were. He would not take your life because he loved you too much. In the morning, as you woke up finding that you were still living and breathing, you tore up the note and began living your life as an atheist.

Oh Nana, I wish we could talk more that day about this. We haven't even got the chance to talk about the years you lived by yourself after your husband's fatal accident. There are so much more I want to know about you. I regret that I didn't visit you again as I said I would. I regret to overlook the importance of our last meeting. But more so, I will soon regret for not having enough courage to send you this letter.

Nana, please hanging there and be strong. You will truly be missed.

Love always,

M

Testimonial on Tony's Behalf

Tony,

Please forgive me. I am such a fool. I can't believe myself for dwelling on some insignificant unhappiness so obsessively during your short visit. Time flew by right in front of my eyes, and before I realized that I should be overwhelmed with our good times, you were already gone.

You probably felt hopeless in saving me. Please don't. Your visit meant so much to me that I can't thank you enough. For those few days, I finally escaped from my phobia of being alone. It felt safe and I knew that whatever happened or were about to happen, you would be right there by my side, making sure that I wouldn't fall. You are too kind. Sometimes I question whether I have done enough good to others to deserve this unconditional friendship.

So, thank you for coming, my friend, and thanks for rescuing me. Drinking on the roof while listening to Mahler 9 was the best time I ever had.

To: My Pilates Trainer

"Keep going, going on ... I can't go on. I will go on."

- Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable

Lisa,

You would be so glad to know that I have been practicing Pilates on my own almost every day of this week. The motto posted on the wall at BE center (which I starred at to focus during our sessions) kept me going:

"Within 10 sessions, you'll feel the difference;
another 10 sessions, you will see the difference;
10 sessions more, you'll have a new body."

Now that I've completed about 10 sessions, my changes are apparent to others but unfortunately, imperceptible to me.

Perhaps I have become numb over the years. "What makes me happy" and "what is happiness" are questions that constantly looping in my head. I desperately searched for this so-called happiness so I made myself a list:

Things that Make Me Happy

• morning coffee, fixed in the way I like.
• purchase something pink.
• soft things. towels, blanket, pillows, etc.
• reading a great book while sun-bathing.
• the smell of grass.
• the smell after rain.
• make a good, hearty meal for myself.
• a walk in the park.
• buy a coffee mug.

... ...

See, it takes so little for me to be quite satisfied, and I do enjoy life as I live it. A few years back, I came to realize that it was necessary for me to be alone for a while in search of a kind of self-identity. Independence, you may call it. So that I could determine my happiness without letting those who orbited around me do. Oh but they had done so, in such brutal ways. They had my happiness at their fingertips, lifted and dropped as they wished. It was my own fault, really. I let them. I allowed them. No more of that. My life is in my own hands now and I'm motivated to make it worthwhile. Things have finally come around and I can actually see a future. A future that is colorful and stable, like a beautifully arched rainbow sitting in a distance which I believe I can reach.

But all these happened before my ten sessions of Pilates. I have not changed since then. I learned how to make myself happy and perhaps I was and am happy. Though, there is still this one missing piece in me. Its absence pronounces its presence like a black hole. Slowly, it eats bits of me alive: my patience, my confidence, my optimistic and idealistic believes. Every now and then, I would forget its hidden presence. But when it wants to remind me that it is still there, within my body and my mind, it shatters all the shields I have built for myself.

Life is not about living for one self. At least not to me. I admire those who are satisfied to be alone. As a blind believer of many things, I will go on believing that one day in the near future, I would find that happiness which I seek. And I would be so satisfied that I could even die smiling. Meanwhile, there is always Pilates and our weekly session that keep me going, even though these might not be able to make me anew as promised on that wall, and as I have secretly hoped for.

To: E.Y.

You are a mother to be!

I am invaded by so much joy that I simply can not restrain myself. Congratulations, my dearest friend! From this moment on, you are not just a woman and a wife, but a sacred, blessed mortal who is destined to bring a new life into the world.

You are a mother to be!

What an honorable thing! A baby. Not a plant and not a pet, but a tiny little human being with its own potential and life and future and more and more. I cannot yet grasp this concept fully, but I glorify it like those faithful Christians do or at least should do.

You are a mother to be!

I imagine holding your new born with the utmost care - such a precious and delicate little body in my arms, crying and kicking, breathing and living. The thought of this makes me wanting to cry. So I weep, shamelessly, out of true happiness for you and the little seed in your belly.

You are a mother to be!!!