The Veiled Jasmine

        “Even if we lose, our team must lose with grace!” Cexiang was fourteen years old when he shouted those words.

        Cexiang was seventeen when he led his classmates from Hwa Chong Institution to hang up five hundred lanterns to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival.

        In the blink of an eye, Cexiang is twenty-one this year...…

1

        If there is any special meaning to life, it is manifested in the interactions between people.

Life unfolds like a long scroll. As time progresses, people recognize, connect, and draw closer to each other...

        In an instant, we arrive at the turn of a farewell. Thus, in this condensed time, many forgotten memories are rekindled. Before saying goodbye, let us eliminate even the slightest misunderstanding between us.

        Farewell brings us sadness and pain. Only farewell allows us the opportunity to retrace old paths. At the platform of departure, the boundary between the past and the present is blurred, and we are forced to contemplate what is most important in life.

        I just celebrated my 21st birthday, and in the short days that followed, I faced two farewells.

        The two farewells related with each other. Both farewells caused medeep sorrow. Farewell made me look back and also look forward.                         Farewell made me understand the meaning of life and also made me recognize death for the first time.

        The first farewell: the eternal separation from my mother.

2

        On April 6, 2006, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Initial information indicated that the tumour was growing in her stomach, affecting her ability to eat and causing vomiting. The tumour may have contained toxic cancer cells, but we did not know the extent of its severity. My mother jokingly said at the time: “A colleague was diagnosed with cancer and passed away in less than six months.”

        I knew my mother was anxious, but I thought we still had time to seek treatment. My mother accepted our advice and agreed to be hospitalized as soon as possible to remove the tumour.

        Unfortunately, the tumour removal surgery did not proceed as scheduled because the tumour was too large, and the cancer cells had already spread to the pancreas.

        The doctor said: “The cancer has entered stage four.” With effective chemotherapy, my mother has a maximum of two years to live. Without any treatment, she has six months.

        We did not let my mother know the true extent of her cancer. We only told her: Based on the size of the tumour, it is not suitable for removal. The doctor will perform an oesophageal bypass surgery and also administer chemotherapy. Although my mother was not aware of the urgency of her condition, she must have realized that it was not optimistic.

        Bad news makes people irritable. But I was not affected. I thought there was still hope, that my mother could undergo chemotherapy, could use traditional Chinese medicine, and that her family could make her happy and peaceful. For me, it is only when nothing can be done that one becomes irritable.

        Deep down, I vaguely felt that this would be the last Spring Festival I would spend with my mother. I resolved to accompany her on every last step of her life. If I could not give her strength, at least I should make her feel loved, comforted, and reassured, and let her understand that this life was not wasted. Every day, I accompanied her in tongue-twisting games, accompanied her on walks in the park, and took her to the hospital for follow-up visits. Every night, I gave her a foot massage, reminding her to close her eyes and relax...…

        After being discharged from the hospital, my mother temporarily lived with my grandmother because my father and younger siblings did not have enough time and energy to take care of her. My mother complained about this. I knew this would worsen her condition. So, I tried to explain to everyone that the lamp was running out of oil and the wick was drying up, and that my mother did not have many days left.

        My relationship with my mother was different from that of others. Over the years, we had formed a habitual way of interacting, and it could not be changed all at once.

        Undoubtedly, everyone loved my mother, but it seemed that everyone believed that a miracle would eventually happen.

        My father inquired about folk remedies everywhere, my younger sister took on all the housework that my mother had hoped she would, and my younger sister also accompanied my mother through many cold and lonely nights in the hospital.

        But my mother seemed to turn a blind eye to these actions of her family, remaining indifferent, even deliberately sulking and engaging in a cold war with everyone.

I felt suffocated and oppressed. One day, I couldn't take it anymore, and I cried in front of my mother, clearly explaining the situation of the whole family running around during these days. My mother also cried, and after that, my mother changed her attitude.

        One night, when the whole family was at home, my mother said: “We were originally a happy family, why did cancer choose me?!”

I was very sad when I heard this. However, my mother's words made me feel that she finally realized the deep love everyone had for her.

3

        July 11, 2006, was my 21st birthday.

        Long before the doctor diagnosed the cause of her illness, my mother had already planned to celebrate for me, and having cancer did not change her plan.

        I also wanted to take this opportunity to introduce my friends to my mother, let her know about my life outside, and bring a happy atmosphere home.

        We ordered a cake, and my mother and I went to the grocery store together to buy ten large bottles of soda. At this time, my mother actually did not have enough strength to carry anything. However, my mother did it, looking as if she had no illness at all, just like when she prepared a banquet for my primary school classmates at the beginning of the year. I thought this was the last thing my mother could do for me.

        On July 11, 2006, my mother wished me Happy Birthday!

        We took the last family photo, which also included my 21st birthday cake.

        On the same night, I received an email from the hospital: Chemotherapy is ineffective!

        It was a sleepless night.

        In the morning, I woke up! This is not the moment of despair yet, we still have traditional Chinese medicine!

        During this period, my father was suffering from the flu, and I took on the responsibility of taking care of my mother at night.

        Every night, I played her favourite music from her youth, reminisced about the past, and also opened my heart to her, pouring out the secrets that I had kept buried deep inside and had not let her know before.

        Before going to sleep, my mother would say: “Thank you! Child, I am proud of you.”

4

        On August 1st, my mother was hospitalized again. She was no longer able to eat, her legs began to swell, and she was mentally confused.

        The doctor told me that her kidneys were severely damaged. Although the hospital would continue to make efforts, there was little chance of a turnaround.

        My mother would soon pass away, but I was not discouraged, I still had things to do!

        I said, "Mom, the doctors are still working hard, you shouldn't give up, you shouldn't let them down."

        Encouraged by my father and uncles, my mother bravely faced another heavy blow.

        I continued, "Mom, at the same time, we must be prepared for the possible deterioration of the situation. If you really have to face death, not only should you be prepared, but you should also let the people around you be prepared. You yourself can leave without regrets, and also let the people around you have no regrets. Give them a chance to help you fulfil your last wishes, let them come to the hospital to hold your hand.

        Next, you must prepare for your afterlife, and entrust your life to Buddha and Guan Yin Bodhisattva with peace of mind. I will sit quietly and chant scriptures for you, hold your hand, and accompany you on this last journey...…"

        After the kidney surgery, my mother improved slightly. However, two days later, her condition took a sharp turn for the worse.

5

        When the doctor told us that they had done everything they could, my mother decided to live at her grandmother's house, and then, solemnly, complete her final journey.

        Flipping through old photos, she clearly explained her funeral arrangements to her family and relatives.

        She told everyone not to worry about her departure, holding a portrait of Guan Yin Bodhisattva in one hand and a string of prayer beads in the other, gently reciting scriptures...…

        Once, my mother was afraid of other people's deaths. This time, facing her own death, she showed such composure and courage.

        On August 25th, my mother could no longer swallow any Chinese medicine.

        On the morning of August 26th, she could not speak, and wrote her last instructions on paper. After writing the word "Forgiveness", she entered the final stages of her life.

        At six o'clock in the evening, my mother was already in a coma.

        At eight o'clock that night, I gently said to my mother, "You know that we love you deeply, and we also know that you have given us your selfless love. Now, please let go and leave peacefully. Afterwards, we will also let go."

        Warmth lingered, and the Buddha's name was chanted continuously: "Om Mani Padme Hum...…"

        At eight o'clock and six minutes, my mother closed her eyes.

        "There should be no room for fear and resentment in the process of death." My mother gave us this valuable final lesson through her own actions.

        During my mother's final moments, our whole family watched and helped each other, and our cohesion strengthened.

        I hope that more people can understand that mutual understanding and support between people will make life more meaningful.

6

        I just celebrated my 21st birthday. In the short days that followed, I faced two farewells.

The first farewell: the eternal separation from my mother. The second farewell: my departure to study abroad.

        There were only two weeks between my mother's departure and my departure to study abroad.

        Before leaving, I took my younger siblings and the maid to a hotel for a sumptuous afternoon tea. I also said goodbye to many people who had inspired me at different stages of my growth, including uncles, aunts, elementary school teachers, tutors, music teachers, classmates, friends...…

        I firmly believe that my mother chose to leave early so that I could go to study in the UK with peace of mind. And it was precisely because of my mother's departure that many people gathered together in a very short period of time, allowing me to retrace the path I had walked before going abroad.

        This is a thorny path, whether it is death or going abroad.

        Grateful, these are all stops in life, not the end.