Thursday, May 2, 2019

My friend Don

I had come to know Don through his spouse Cora both artists in Vancouver.  She is the daughter of my father’s best friend from Pui Ching Middle School in Macao.  Her father was an eminent scientist-leader who set up Taiwan’s first research park in the 1980s.  Because we were in the adjacent state, we would visit during summer vacations.  Her father also Dr. Li was one of the few Chinese males who gave me fatherly advice and actually was fatherly, unlike my own. Some six years ago, after a 50+ year hiatus, I renewed ties.  They both are just the sort of insightful, liberal, socially conscientious, art activist folk that I respect. 

Whenever in Vancouver, we would gather at their inviting custom-designed Japanese-style house replete with large, vegetable garden, beehives, large coi pond, free standing artist studio, wall-to-wall paintings (his Asian inspired acrylics) and drawings (her geometric ink). They are vegetarian.  Don is a red-blooded Canadian, that is to say not only respectful as Canadians tend to be, but also opinionated and outspoken.  Other adjectives that come to mind include high energy, inquisitive, adventurous, well-read, perceptive, and thoughtful. As one example, when he goes to China to do videography, he unabashedly uses his studied Mandarin to connect.  

Mid-December, 2018.  I took my usual late fall sojourn to Vancouver to “correct” deficiencies in  my Tai Chi form.  As always, we got together for dinner.  Our dinners are typically full of extended discussions on a myriad of topics from kids, grandkids, healthy living, local, national and Chinese art, current books, social and political issues.  We also went to see Crazy Rich Asians together and had a dinner discussion afterwards.  

Late January, 2019.  I received an e-mail from Cora saying that Don had a brain tumor and was scheduled for surgery.  I then went to Kenya and Tanzania.  Sporadic updates revealed that Don went home but had completely lost his speech, an unimaginable loss of connection.  However, he understood things normally.  And he preferred not to have visitors. I sent my best written and internal wishes.

Mid April, 2019.  I planned another two week “corrections” trip to Vancouver.  I asked if I could come and see Don.  Yes, he did want to see me but it would depend upon how the day went as he was having recurring seizures.  I felt honored.  It also evoked my traumatic experiences with Teri. I approached this with less trepidation about his seizures but more about what I wanted to say and how best to say it.  I brought some homemade tea/soy sauce eggs and some store bought dofu skins stuffed with mushrooms that I thought he would like.  

I received a text message that it was OK to see him that afternoon.  I arrived and found him resting following a mild seizure.  I then learned that the illness began subtly with his noticing difficulty finding words – albeit not noted by anyone else.  At the Emergency Room they discovered a large brain tumor on CT scan  and three weeks later it proved to be a highly malignant glioblastoma.  Emerging from surgery, he spoke normally, but within hours had a seizure and then lost all speech.  At his follow-up, they offered radiation therapy which was accepted. Despite the loss of speech and some one-sided weakness, he understood fully, communicated nonverbally and was able to take care of his bodily functions.  Hospice care was initiated at nighttime as they awaited the outcome of radiation therapy.

Don walked out of the bedroom and … amazingly looked like his old self!  He was moving well, calm but unnaturally silent.  Yet his intense gaze and occasional nod revealed his full attention and understanding.  I spoke briefly about my trip to Africa.  Then I told him how he presciently predicted my growing involvement with art and art collecting, something I could not anticipate. I also shared that I had just commissioned a ‘chaos’ calligraphy from a contemporary Chinese artist in whom we shared a mutual interest, and, how my decision to obtain a larger piece was clearly inspired by his expressed intent to do the same and his usual ‘go for it’ attitude.  I told him that once completed I would like to bring it to show to him.

As I prepared to depart, I was overwhelmed by my thoughts.  I felt good that I could share, and he comprehend, that he had influenced my life.  I was profoundly struck by the speechlessness which so affected his inter self and was relieved that his core self was still  intact.  Yet I wondered how I would ever cope with a locked in persona.  This made me think about who he is and what he stands for.  And I worried about Cora coping with the day-to-day and ultimate uncertainty and that this occasion might be the last time I would see him.     

We hugged.  I felt his warmth, gentleness and clear gaze.  He waved goodbye.  I became wistful.

Two weeks later, Cora notified me that Don had passed away.

With respect and love,


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