My First Staycation

Thanks to Covid, the poor aviation and tourism sector in Singapore is bleeding. Can't do much for the aviation industry, but the government has been encouraging residents to take "staycations" to help our hotels stay afloat. 

Being *erhem* "responsible residents" (okay, not really but everyone needs a break, and we can't travel out anyway), my friend and I checked into the historic Goodwood Park Hotel over the Hari Raya Puasa weekend (13-15 May).  The hotel was beautiful, and we got a surprising free upgrade to one of the larger rooms that opened up straight into the pool.💖 We also avoided the crowd since 14 May was still a school day. 

Loved our stay! Overall service was great, and it didn't hurt that our booking included breakfast.  

Scenes from the hotel (L-R, clockwise): HUGE mirror with plenty of cupboard space; so much desk space if we needed it (we didn't); the historic Goodwood Park Hotel; expensive hotel high tea that isn't worth the price😕.   

Thank goodness my friend and I have similar travel "wavelengths". We both enjoy trying new foods and "chilling out" at the hotel, so there was no pressure to pack our schedule. Nonetheless, we still managed to do quite a lot:

- We ate SO MUCH FOOD.  

- Swam

- "Nua"-ed (Singlish for "chill"/relax)

- Chinese massage with gua sha 

- Went for manicures and window shopped the Orchard Road area

(All in the name of spurring domestic GDP of course.) 

Above are some sights from shopping. 

• HDB artwork at Scotts Square Shopping Centre. Very local yet very cool.
• Singapore mural on the way to Don Don Donki
• Not sure why I saw so many interesting cars that weekend. The pink and teal ones were just two examples.
• Pain in the name of beauty. Gua sha marks (love the "release" from gua sha!!!) and 1.5 hour long manicure.

We ate so much, but it was worth every calory. Highlight: the Brazilian cheese puffs (pao de queijo) from Wild Honey. I have been craving these puffs for a few years, but could never find the right occasion to make them. These hit the spot! And that touch of coarse salt added to the bottom of the serving glass was just 💥. Will definitely go back. 

My first staycation was a wonderful experience. It can't beat traveling overseas (duh!) but having to vacation in Singapore isn't too bad either. 

Grieving is a kind of enhanced gratitude

I received news this morning that a good friend of mine passed away on Friday morning (U.S. time). She was only 29 years old. 

We met at the singles' ward in Columbus, Ohio when I was finishing up my last year of graduate school, and she was in her second year as a Pharmacy School grad student. Though we only crossed paths for a year, she became one of my closest girl-friends in Ohio: random road trip to IKEA on a school night (rebel!), watching Wonder Woman in the cinema, Christmas break breakfast with Cynthia, hang out nights, etc. She was just one of the coolest people to be with. 

A few months after I returned to Singapore, I learned that she had developed a malignant (read: cancerous) tumor in her brain. I don't understand all the details, but she named her growth "Super Stupid Stella". My friend fought HARD with Stella and beat her.🙆 Of course, there was still a long road to recovery but there was hope.

Or so everyone thought. Last year, in the midst of a pandemic, the doctors discovered "Dastardly Daphne". My friend spent the Thanksgiving season going for radiation treatment. Unfortunately, by March, Daphne had two additional friends: Margo and Trent. While these friends were partying, my friend went blind, wrecked her sense of smell, put on weight, lost her sense of balance, had difficulty walking, and ate hundreds of medical pills for treatment and pain relief. My friend tried to stay upbeat through treatment. She went on family road trips, listened to audio books, started a blog about her diagnosis before her sight went bad, ate at a whole bunch of new restaurants, and even participated (via her mom) in President Nelson's 7-day #Gratitude challenge. 

But the tumour party carried on, and the treatments stopped working by June. My friend decided to seek hospice treatment at home, and weeks later, she passed away. Apparently most people with her type of cancer only survive about 18 months. She lived with it for 4 years. A tender mercy, but one that doesn't feel long enough at the same time.  

Sheri L. Dew once said that "grieving is a kind of enhanced gratitude". I've always loved this quote but there is nothing like a real-life experience with death to drive this home. Even as I grief for the loss of my friend who left us at the peak of her life, I'm also filled with gratitude that:

1. I had her in my life, however briefly, and she was such a light during my last year of graduate school;
2. She is free from all the physical, mental and emotional pain and exhaustion stemming from the cancer;   
3. The knowledge of the Plan of Salvation and the Spirit World;
4. The knowledge of the resurrection, and the hope, comfort and peace it brings;
5. One day, I will see her again, healthy and whole, and full of her usual sass. 

Take that stupid partying tumours. 

Mother's Day this year...

[July 2021: This post was written back in May. I never posted it because I couldn't quite finish it. But I'm just going to write some conclusion and publish it so that it stops sitting in my "Draft" box. I can always go back and update it, right? 😆]  

I've felt a variety of emotions through the years of celebrating Mother's Day. 

As a young girl, Mother's Day was about showing love and appreciation for my wonderful mom. Almost every year, the children at church would perform a song about mothers, and a youth speaker would talk about his/her mother. And we would make a craft either during church or activity time. I can't remember a single craft I made, but I still remember the sweet Mother's Day songs I learned. "Mother I love you, mother I do..."

Then I transitioned into young adulthood and went off to college, far away from my parents. My first Mother's Day in a young single adult ward (congregation for 18-30 year old) was so different. One, every single speaker said something to the effect of "Being away from my mom has made me appreciate her so much more". Poignant yet amusing. Two, no children singing. Alas!😭

But it got a little embarrassing too. If I happened to be in a family ward on Mother's Day, there tended to be a segment when church leaders invited "all women, married or not" to stand up so that the youth/ children could give a Mother's Day gift/ token to us. I cringed...though I quickly got over it because free gift!😁 Plus I knew Church leaders had no ill intentions and were just trying to be inclusive. 

As I grew into my late-twenties, Mother's Day took an interesting turn. In one of my last young single adult wards, some women got offended when the men gave them something on Mother's Day because "we aren't mothers, and our identity as women isn't defined by motherhood because we are strong women who are so much more than that, so stop giving us gifts on Mother's Day". Maybe-confession: I might have been one of those women because I was deep in feminist literature then. I genuinely cannot recall! But thinking back, it was kind of sweet of the men to do something. It would have been inappropriate if they started singing "Mother I love you..." but giving us a gift? Awkward gesture but again, no ill intended. [Also, I'm pretty sure the next Mother's Day, the men did ZILCH. Such a pity.] 

When I moved home, Mother's Day went back to being a delight. I loved being back in a family ward where the children and youth performed on Mother's day. I appreciated celebrating my mom in person. And I didn't care if someone wished me "Happy Mother's Day". In fact, it was nice that social media made a conscious effort to include women who had lost a child or could not have children. [I also think social media has also gone too far in being politically correct on Mother's Day...but that's for another post.] 

So I was caught off-guard when an unexpected wave of sadness and loneliness washed over me as I sat in church last Sunday. As I parsed through my emotions, I realised that I was feeling...grief. Grief for the children I don't have. Grief for the children I love now but who will never call me "mother" or "mine". Grief for a lifelong, deep-rooted dream that is dimming with each passing year.  

I know motherhood isn't limited to having children by birth, marriage, or adoption. I can still be maternal and nurture other people's children. Part of why I adore my nieces and nephews and the children at church is because I can't have my own, so the next best thing is to be the best aunt.

But no matter how much love and energy I pour into them, there will always be a distinction. I can be the best "mother" to these children but I will never be their mother. 

Perhaps these emotions are coming on because I'm turning 35 this July. For some reason, 35 feels like a giant milestone where I stop deluding myself as being "still young". The biological clock is officially counting and winding down! 

I've been richly blessed in other aspects of my life, so please don't think I'm bitter. I'm also 100% aware motherhood has its own challenges and difficulties. But my challenge is dealing with the fact that I can't have children, and no amount of being the awesome, fun, "kick-butt" aunt will fill that void. (And please don't start on the whole "it will come in the next life". It's cold comfort for THIS life. Thank you for understanding😅.)

So to all the young mothers in my immediate social circle, I hope you understand why I'm that over-zealous aunt who goes around spoiling your children. Feel free to tell me to back off, but I really mean no harm. 

[Update in July: I'm feeling 100% okay now. These waves of grief come and go. Singlehood (can be) awesome!]