Whenever one of these bizarre Coke commercials come on, usually very late at night on a cable channel during a film noir festival of some kind, I am absolutely riveted. The completely demented concept of separate body parts, replete with different accents and personalities for each one, well… fascinates me. This one is my favourite, I think.

I did absolutely nothing today. Nothing at all.

I just sat on my big butt and talked to my mother on the phone.

For four and a half hours.

Heh.

Dear Jason,

My beloved nephew. Four years ago today, I sat in the late-night darkness in my living room, chewing on the nails of one hand while the other clutched the phone. I was barely able to breathe past the tightness in my chest. And I whispered the first of what would be many, many urgent prayers for your health and your safety over the next four years.

Your mother was in the hospital and your Gran had just called me to let me know you were on your way – your Mom was going to have a C-section within the hour. Gran sounded nervous. She was undoubtedly thinking about how your Dad had been born the exact same way. Little did we know that would just be one way you were so much like your Dad!

I prayed and waited for the phone call that would let your Canadian family know you had finally arrived safe and sound. When it did, the joy we felt was incredible. You filled the lives around you with amazement, and people half a world away fell in love with you the instant we saw your perfect little face.

I used to check my e-mail constantly for the next photos your Dad would send. He was working so many hours and was as exhausted like all new daddies are, but he couldn’t wait to see you at the end of the day and I have so many wonderful pictures and short videos that show how much he loved being with you.

Four years later, your life is very different from what we all thought it would be. Life is like that, darling boy. We don’t always get to do what we want to do the most. I still haven’t even met you and it’s been an agonizing two years since your Dad left Thailand to come back to Canada to work.

But on this, your fourth birthday, I am writing this letter so that someday you might be able to know that we love you always, always, always and we miss you every single day. You are talked about and prayed for every day. Your Mom sends photos to Gran and Grandpa in Houston and they send them to me and Jason, we can’t get enough of your amazing grin and heartbreakingly beautiful brown eyes! As much as we miss you and pray that we can all be closer someday soon, we know we are so lucky to know where you are and to see that you are healthy and happy and going to school.

We are grateful for every second of your life. There aren’t enough words in English or Thai to describe how much we love you. To tell you how precious you are to us.

We just pray that someday soon, we can show you.

With all the love in my heart,
Your Auntie S.

I am so homesick today. Looking through old photos of the last few years just makes me feel worse. I don’t know where I want to be… I just want to be back there somewhere. I want to be that person again, and save myself from all the mistakes I was about to make.

And to save everyone else from theirs.

A series of efforts today to try and stave off the menacing grey. It’s like a fog that has weight, the grey that steals over me sometimes. Instead of weighing me down from the outside like something real, it seeps into my limbs and deadens my fingers and makes everything ache.

It’s not depression. I’ve been depressed before, I know how it feels. Or maybe it is depression but I don’t buy into brain chemistry and the need for drugs. The medication doesn’t prevent these episodes, so it’s not the answer. Fighting it is the answer. If only it wasn’t so tiring.

So, efforts. Paying bills, sweeping the floors, doing even just one, exhausting load of laundry. Sticking to a promise to cook healthy meals at home instead of constantly ordering out – even tonight. Even tonight when it was so hard to drag myself to the kitchen and stand over the stove. Perhaps especially tonight. Handmade turkey burgers with guacamole and Monterey Jack cheese with a side of triumphant exhaustion!

Take that, $%@#$ greyness.