a day in the life of piano monkey

i went to see her early today and one of the things i asked was: when i grow up, what kind of person would you like me to be? she said: of course, you are already good, but you could work hard to become super-famous pianist and be gentle-hearted. i said: you cant really be gentle-hearted and powerful at the same time (chuckle) she said: really? i see... i said: pick one! she said: then.... be the very best gentle-hearted person you can be. i was going to return tomorrow morning early at 8am, so i can get some work done later in the day. at 6pm, i put on mahler 9th and felt restless. so i decided to take a bath. while the water ran, i debated whether i should go back to see her then. out of a blue. a dense nudge in the heart. i did not. but i did search for 'how to give bath to seniors.' thought it would be nice to give her a bath, if possible- i bet she hasnt had one in awhile, and she used to love it. then around 8, mom called. the universe as i known it, shattered itself in a

whenever i used to go visit granny, i used to bring whole bunch of snacks. snacks that i like. snacks that she likes. snacks that she can shower the entire home friends and staff with. but as she isnt eating, snacks arent really an option anymore.  she's drinking some fluids and some loose mixtures, but that's about it. ive been bringing her snacks since i started to make my own money back at age 13. and now what? and as she's curling her tail, there isnt much stuff i could get for her. it's all unnecessary. it's amazing how many things can quickly become unnecessary.  ive joined a social media group about slow medicine, a practice in walking with persons in their last steps.  and i learned small things, like combing her hair, is a nice sensory experience. and ive been pouring over their suggestions. and a few suggested 'scents.' she's now put her anchor in her room. i dont think she'll get out of that little room much. she's got a big window and

why does the very basic idea of living, then dying bring so much noise? and how is that certain huge noise can bring so much calmness, in contrast? this week, i had my first parking ticket, and first 'ding' on a car. in the middle of backing up the car to head out, i was thinking about the fact that ive been asked to not to stay long, or come by often, if i could help it- rising covid numbers mean stricter lockdown for granny's home. im half tempted to bring her here where i live, but that really is a stupid idea, my brain says. so that's a no. they are able to check on her at least once an hour, and i- well, i cannot do that.  noisy. or is it that i wont do that?  what am i now? meatloaf? so noisy. i also had my very first MRI. it's fancy living in downtown, walking to your 6am MRI appt. during about 50 min of shoulders MRI, i totally tripped out in midst of huge noise chain. in that white tube, with magnetic resonance so loud and powerful (it did feel super weird-

i combed her hair today.  i didnt realize how much quiet joy it brought her. probably because i never have to comb my hair since 2000-01. i chopped it all off at once. she kept saying 'your arms are going to get tired.' i kept saying 'im counting.' one. two. three. four. then i would forget what number im to be on. so we stayed on doing that for awhile. see, my memorable childhood hair moments were rather hysterical.  there were times where someone (mom or granny, doesnt matter, they were in this together), brought me to a local hair place, and they permed my hair to michael jackson curls- looking very much like a joke. that was something that i tried to protest actively and futilely.  then there were times where my hair was being braided by someone angry (as 'she' would be behind me, i cant remember who it wouldve been- may be both HA HA HA)- so french braid being done, the comb. digging. into. head. every. stroke. tears. welled. up.   there were a few bowl cut

walking with a kid usually means holding hands. one big one, one itty one. sitting down with a granny usually means holding hands. one big one, one itty one. i dont think theres been any time that i can remember, that we had same sized hands, ever. it just went, in a blink, small to large, then large to small. one day, my hands were just larger. and stronger. granny used say that i should try to keep my hands long and pretty, like a good piano player. i always worked with my hands, and ended up having a big palm, where the base of the palm is bigger than the rest of the hand. granny worked her needles and scissors with her hands, a seamstress who fed 5 little composite family- her, my dad, her sister in law, and 3 nephew/nieces. so many stitches and loops, buttons and zippers, she wouldve touched and touched again. and one day, i realized that her hands are teeny.  her rings start to fall out- then she would wrap strings around the ring to buff it up. and her nails became hard, and slo

my friends know that i like to gift people with cuttings and potted plants. the idea is that... it goes onto be nurtured by the recipient, and if life is kind, that 'thing' will be alive, become 'some'thing/'some'one, and we go onto cultivate this 'relationship.' but today, i bought cut flowers. when people stop eating solid, active dying phase isnt too far. and bringing her flowers would be rather uncalled for this particular relationship at this time. the shop was full of bright, shouty flowers. chrismas! (serious) halloween! fall bounties! birthdays! congratulations! etc! it looked like i was going to fail to find something that is 'right' for today. i sighed. i suppose i was celebrating granny in a sense she got out of the hospital.  i really thought that she may die in the hospital (as tired as she was), and i asked a gigantic favour, that she somehow gets out of there, and die at her usual place. unless, she really is at 'empty.' so

news of the day: nursing home is temporarily waving covid testing result requirement on doctor's recommendation (result likely to be in laaaaate afternoon tmrw) so a visit up north to see you tmrw morning, granny. not enough time to actually do anything to get ready, so here i am, scraping stuff together haha. but just in case, shouldnt keep you waiting. trying to cut straight lines and trying to glue stuff neatly. like when i was a little kid. i once cut some paper with granny's sewing scissors. i only did it once cuz i met god in a granny smack, and god said: no sewing scissors on paper, child. flashed back to life, and since then, only paper scissors on papers. mantra practice day 1: ballpoint pen.

tonight, dusk. hey blog, long time no see. i didnt have much thoughts that i wanted to write down. 2020 so far, has been mildly irritating, rather than truly provoking or even really enraging. but here we are. my granny's dying.  tomorrow would be just about 4 weeks since she went into a local hospital with colitis. but with prolonged stay and consequent isolation from everything/everyone (she hardly speaks english), and covid-19 protocol making it impossible for any of us to really go in and see her,   i feel that she's decided to curl her tails and get ready for the end.  after all, from the autumn equinox, to the winter solstice, it's a long gradient of 'end.' there were much phone chasing, 3-way calls, the usual immigrant family logistics when navigating complicated settings. it was unpleasant. and that is okay. but somewhere during that time, she's turned a corner, and now she's slowly disappearing. she's out, and back to her home. and she is no lon