It's satisfying to finally finish the series of entries about the Taiwan trip. I kind of faltered halfway but I was always determined to finish it, because it was such an integral point in our immediate grieving. I started to write the 我和她 series in Taiwan, when in my heart and mind, there had previously been such abject silence - it was strange, and even unnerving, to suddenly have words pour into my head. My Mandarin was painful and stilted... which gelled I guess with my own feelings. The second or third entry in the 我和她 series talked about how I could only use Mother Tongue to write about my mother... it may seem strange now, since I have written in English about her, but at that point in time, that was the only way I could verbalise/filter out my thoughts. Mandarin in some ways... feels like my origin of things, as she is to me.
My mum, my origin of things.
On the last day of Taiwan, we went to so many places - Danshui to buy our caps (see above), Ximending so Dad could eat his favourite steak again. P was extending her trip by two days to shop with her friends.
After seeing Cijin Island, Danshui was rather plain. It was foggy, I think, that day. It was windy. We walked along the border. Sensing Dad's loneliness for a moment, I held his hand. He was surprised. I laughed.
We walked for a while, then reached the market. Dad let go of my hand so I could join P.
That was our last day.
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