life is elsewhere

Many years later, I would still remember in 5 days of my life, I had a family of five. For 5 days, I was a proud mom of 3 beautiful daughters, Fifi, Aiai and Momo. The brief moments we gathered in NICU nursery, we were five. Fifi dictated her father to lift her up and move from Aiai’s incubator to Momo’s, and back and forth, so she could get a good look at of her two baby sisters, to see how they look alike yet so different (in size). She’s so proud to become a big sister to two baby girls. The next weekend she came back to NICU, only one incubator stood alone; she’s got only one baby sister left. I wonder if she would still remember, when she grows up, one Sunday afternoon in January, in Evergreen hospital at Kirkland, we were a family of five and she’s a proud big sister of two baby girls.  When death came along, it took more than just a life, it changes so many things in so many perspectives, and shatters so many dreams, small and large-dreams for the mom and dad to walk with adorable twin girls in a a double stroller, dreams to have 3 daughters around when we grow old, dreams to take a greater responsibility in raising a big family. I wonder if Momo will ever recognize her identical twin sister in her inexplicable dreams where she sees the split image of herself. I’m certain there is some special connection between them and only she feels her lost sister, without being told. In such dreams, will she weep? Will she run to embrace her dear sister for her sad mom who wanted so much to see her lost daughter in dream?  

Friends sent flowers, lilies, lots of lilies, white, yellow, pink, for the passing of an young and innocent life. I organized the pictures taken from our two cameras. I found many ones with Matti on the third day of her life, when she’s on the last day in consciousness. It’s so obvious now, seen from the pictures,  that She’s in pain, her slightly frowned eyebrows, her swollen lips, all saying the pain she’s suffering. But she was so calm, with a maturity unequal to her 7-month age, like she knows her fate, like she sees what’s coming on her. After that night, she never opened her eyes. I remember that last happy visit. We called her names, she turned over trying very hard to open her eyes and look at us gently. We were so happy and busy on taking pictures and touching her hands and talking to her. Overjoyed by her responsiveness, we did not see the shadow of sadness on her face, not until now, after she’s long gone, and left her mom staring at her beautiful and sad pictures days and nights.

We took Fifi to University Village. We haven’t spent time with her recently since the twins were in trouble. It was a very nice day, warm and sunny. My heart hurt when thinking of my little Matti lying alone in a small box at the funeral home. She was brought there yesterday, Banton funeral home at Kirkland. We picked a small pinky urn of heart shape for her and signed all the papers that documented her death. The Funeral director was a nice and warm gentleman and reassured that she’s in a good hand. We could not get her home until later next week though. I felt a sudden chilly when I walked out of the funeral home, like I’ve been experiencing since Matti died. We were having lunch at blu-C sushi. Fifi was enjoying her meal of Udon and eel. When I look across our table, I was startled to see the profile of the funeral director, with the brown mole under his left eyes, that’s him. We said hello to him on our way out and he told us it’s his first time dining here. My heart beat so fast, I know it’s the message from Matti again. I think Bin realized it too and he hold my hand so tight. “Did you get to dream of her?” Bin asked me when we walked out. “No, I can’t. I can’t see her in my dream”. My tears came streaming down, “but I feel her everywhere”