My Waipo (maternal grandma) can be considered my other mother. We loved each other deeply, but didn’t know how to communicate then. Music has a kind of power. When I was taking my afternoon nap she would use the radio to play a series of Taiwanese songs — there was 那卡西, all sorts of old Minnan songs. The typical child’s dislike of afternoon naps turned sleep into darkness without form (but honestly, the wonderful Minnan music let my dreams feel like Tainan, how awesome!) After some time, with Waipo’s passing, I became afraid of being alone with those songs I grew up with, Waipo’s songs. I feared I would once again fall into darkness.
On the 头七 (49th) day of her passing*, I was the only one in the whole family who could smell her favourite Taiwan-style breakfast almond tea — so thick it was entwined with the smell of incense smoke. With her death I experienced the first time someone I loved deeply leaving me, and I wasn’t ready to grow up…!
2.2 years later my mother passed. Depression and anxiety had hit her, she took sleeping pills long term, quarrelled with my everyday. I even went on Instagram and declared that I wished her dead. Eventually, her emotional issues caused a stroke 出血性失智症，. 5 years after, when she left the shell of her body, I was grown up and didn’t break down in tears. I bravely protected my father’s nightly insomnia and pain. I myself had depression and anxiety for 6 years, but more and more I accepted that death is part of life, and gradually dreamt less of her. One time, I dreamt we were having a wonderful chat; it was unlike how we were.
Every time I’m bullied, I speak to her in my heart, asking her to visit my dreams. “Dream visitations” occur when I stand under the sun and speak to my loved ones in the sky, when I am stressed from work, when I try to book Taiwan High Speed Rail tickets and fail.
*In the Chinese world, every 7 days of the passing of a loved one is observed with rituals, until the 49th (7th set of 7).
Bonnie, Taiwan
[loved one]