Book

The Diary Of the Isolated

   

Chapter 1

                                                                             

Jenna

 

         It was a quiet evening when I sat alone on the balcony of our house staring at the distant sky. I gazed at the blinking fairy stars scattered high above, and the silvery bright moon that hung like a luminous rock high overhead . . . its moonlight spilled on the land and the crystal lake below. I could see the reflection of the moon on the lake with its silvery water that swayed synchronously with the wind. I wondered what it was like to be up there, in the universe.

                I was always a nature lover. I admire the beauty of nature and everything around it, whether alive or not. I see them as equals, all the animals, plants and other things that have no life. I know God put them here for a reason.

                As usual, I isolated myself from other people where I constructed my own world so I can find meaning in life. Ever since I can remember, I don’t take notice of whatever is happening around me. My mind wanders away, engrossed in thought, whatever interests me. I often hear people say, “I’m in my own world.” They told me I should engage myself in the reality of this world. But what is reality, anyway? I believe that we live in the illusion of life because no one knows what reality is and what is not. My reality is where I find happiness and strength, even when others think it is not reality for them. My sister Ella and brother Jake have accepted my indifference a long time ago.

                I smiled at the thought of my family. Not too long ago, we were happy — my sister Ella, brother Jake, my parents and me.  Then one day, my parents came home with sadness on their face.  My father was quiet, went straight to their bedroom. My mother gave me a kiss, prepared my lunch, and followed my father into their room. I looked at my sister Ella who remained quiet sitting at the dining table. I knew something was wrong. I sat beside her, but I didn’t say a word. In fact, I never talked to anyone. I only talked to myself in my mind.

                Days passed by and my mother could no longer do the things she used to do. In fact, she could barely walk. She had to use a big stick to help her in walking. She called it her cane.       

                Then one day, she couldn’t get up from her bed anymore.  My father, Ella and Jake had to bring her food to the bedroom. I heard her cry many times. My father gave her pills, soon afterwards, she fell asleep.

 

***

               

                That night, the rain poured heavily and pattered on the roof of our house. I was on my bed cuddled with my flowery sheet. It was 70 degrees inside the house with all the windows closed, but I felt cold. The pattering of the rain made me feel cold. I wondered how things were going outside with all the thunder roaring, continuous lightning, wind whistling and the heavy rain pouring. I got up and opened the window slightly. The trees swayed gracefully with the wind accompanied by a flash of lightning and roaring of thunder. I like to watch the sky during a thunderstorm, even though the sound of the thunder overwhelmed me. I’m always fascinated with the flashes of lightning.

                “Jenna,” my mother called.

                I continued watching outside the window. My mind was preoccupied with great awe at the splendor of nature.

                “Jenna, go back to bed, my child,” my mother called again.

                I closed the window and walked past my mother. As I lay back in bed, I wandered about life. I thought about my mother. She was always affectionate, beautiful, caring and the sweetest woman in the world. Is she going to die? I was told that if I prayed, God would listen. That night, I prayed for my worries.  I prayed so hard that tears were streaming down my face. I prayed until I fell asleep. 

                I woke up when my mother called my name. I got up and came closer to my mother’s bed. She gestured for me to sit on the chair beside her. 

                For the first time, I uttered the word, “Mother.”

                My mother looked at me, her face twisted with pain. I could see the horror and the suffering she felt inside.

                “Mother,” my voice broke down. I laid my head on my mother’s bosom. I felt her hand stroking my hair with tenderness.

                “My child,” she said. She had a smile on her face.

                “Mother, I’m scared.” For the first time in my life, I finally spoke to her . . . only now that she’s near the end of her life. I knew she longed for me to speak. She had tried every possible way so I could communicate in words to no avail.  I don’t know why but it didn’t make sense to me to communicate with them in words when I could do it the other way.

                My mother continued to stroke my hair. “Don’t be scared. Be brave, you’ll do fine,” she said softly.

                The nurse came and gave her a shot for her pain.

                “It’s almost over. I’ll leave soon. Take care of yourself.” My mother’s pale and weak hand reached my hair one more time and stroked it. “I love you.”

                “Mother,” I said. I held her hand and gave her passionate kisses. I had tears in my eyes.

                My mother closed her tired eyes and went to sleep. I continued to sit on the chair beside her and looked at her face dimmed with age. Months ago, she looked young and healthy. How could an asymptomatic disease claim her life so soon, so quick? I refused to accept the reality of what was happening to her. She was always a brave, courageous, and strong woman. She survived what was thought to be the cruelest part of her life. War. But unlike the war, she couldn’t escape the cruelty of the disease consuming her body. I got up and left her with my knees trembling. I went back to bed and wept. It was a nightmare. 

                Outside her bedroom, friends and relatives were gathered whispering, hoping not to wake her up for those precious moments of comfort.                                 

               

***

                There was a gentle shake which aroused me from sleep. My aunt was standing beside my bed with sadness in her eyes. I glanced at my mother’s bed. She laid there motionless. My sister Ella and brother Jake were crying. I looked out the open window. The sun was already up. It must have been noon. 

                Jake came to me with tears in his eyes. “Mother is dead,” he said. 

                A cold feeling travelled throughout my body. I was expecting it, and yet when it happened, I felt numb. I wanted to shout, but no voice came out. It’s over. Her suffering is over, I thought.

                My mother was laid in her beautiful casket. She looked so peaceful. I leaned over to touch the glass covering her and stared at her beautiful face. “For the last time,” I murmured.  “Till we meet again, mother. You’ll always be in my heart.”

                I sat quietly on the chair beside her casket. I felt tightness in my chest. I couldn’t describe the mixed emotions I felt inside. It was an overwhelming feeling that I didn’t know how to express. I could see all the eyes of the people fixed on me as I rocked myself back and forth on the chair while making loud noises. Ella and Jake came rushing to my side. 

                “Shhh!  Shhh!” Ella tried to calm me down.

                I buried my face on her chest sobbing.

                “Everything will be alright,” she said. They both gave me a hug, then led me to my room and stayed with me until I calmed down.

                Ella reached for figurines on top of my dresser. She knew the figurines of a frog, turtle, butterfly, and shell of snail would make me happy. I associated them with happy events in my life. She handed them to me together with a folded paper. “This is for you, Jenna, from mother,” she said.

                I took the folded paper and opened it. It was a song, a farewell song scribbled with too much difficulty. I stared at every word trying to read it.

               

“I’m alone in my room

Near the end of my life

All I have are memories

Memories of the past.

Yesterday, you came to talk to me

The best gift I ever had

You had a smile on your face

But sadness in your eyes.

I see the light coming to guide me

In my journey of eternal life

Tears of sadness fell

My soul will soon depart.

I hate to leave you, my child

When you needed me most

I’ll be watching you

My spirit will guide you through.

My child, let it go, let it go.”

 

                I embraced the figurines and my mother’s farewell song. I closed my eyes, tears welling on my cheeks.

                After my mother passed, our life was no longer the same. The joy in our house was gone. Father stayed mostly in his room.  Ella and Jake left the house for college. Since my mother died, my father hired a woman to clean, cook and do other things that my mother used to do. As usual I haven’t spoken to anyone.               

                Every night, I like to sit on the balcony of our house looking at the star-filled sky. There was total darkness everywhere. The shadows of the trees were swaying gracefully with the gentle wind. For a moment, I felt like a little child again. In my mind, I created a mysterious shadow hiding among the trees, coming closer and closer to me. I felt my body shaking and trembling with fear. I wanted to shout, “Mother!” but no voice came out.

                The woman whom my father hired always looked for me at night and she knew where to find me — on the balcony. She was almost as sweet as my mother. When she came, I grabbed the cane that my mother used to hold to help her walk. Since she died, her cane has been my companion. We were inseparable. Her cane was my friend, my protector.

                Months later, my father left me too, to join my mother.

                I couldn’t understand death no matter how many people explained it to me. After the funeral, my sister Ella decided to take me to her home. I love my sister, but I couldn’t leave the home I once shared with my parents. I felt like abandoning them. After staying at my sister’s house for few months, I decided to go back to our house.

                The house was empty. All the furniture was covered with sheets. The quietness was deafening. All I could hear was the barking of the dogs nearby. I went to my room and gathered my precious belongings — figurines of a butterfly, turtle, and a shell of snail which I picked up on the beach when our family went on vacation and a figurine of a frog my father gave me when he arrived after visiting my grandparents. I carefully put them inside my purse with the other items that I collected which were precious to me. For a while I imagine the time when we're all happy in this house. Now everything is gone. I let go of a shrill cry and ran outside the house to the lake. I sat on the bench reminiscing about the time when my mother would take me to have a picnic together. I felt wretched with grief with the realization that I could no longer see them.

                I embraced myself when no one could. I felt alone again. I wiped the tears in my eyes. I breathed heavily trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. If only I could have someone with whom to share my feelings wholeheartedly and genuinely.  Someone who could understand how I felt.

                I looked at the blanket of darkness that surrounded me. The lake in front of me was no longer visible. I could hear the roaring of the vehicles nearby, the croaking of the bullfrogs and the barking of the dogs at a distance kept me company in my solitude. What’s the meaning of life if my heart always felt empty? How could I escape this loneliness while alive? A lot of things wandered in my mind. If only I could go somewhere, very far away, on the other side of the ocean to search for a new life of happiness, if there’s one reserved for me. 

                My tears flowed down my cheeks when I felt this overwhelming sorrow that’s like a knife tearing my heart into pieces. I looked at the darkness of my surroundings, the quarter moon alone in the sky, watching my loneliness as I struggled to understand the meaning of life. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I took my purse and ran as fast as I could to release the overwhelming emotion that I have until everything went dark. 

                After that, I woke up in the hospital.     

        

(To be continued)