Yay Thoowhat

“Yay Thoowaht”
I was in a place of wonder and joy. I felt warmness all over my body—I was in heaven. I just wanted more, like a ravenous beast. I got whiff of my prey and ravaged with full fury, no holding back—I was ruthless, yearning for more, more, more, MORE!!!!
I did not want to leave this place—it was a place, the only place, in which my full desires could be obtained—my wish becomes reality with the arrogant notion of a demand. My eyes closed, my breathing slowed—I was at a state of complete calm and unimaginable relaxation. I was lying down on my bed with nothing more than a translucent white sheet covering my naked body, the room was dark. I was in the position to gain anything, and everything I desired—an unearthly pleasure. I never wanted to stop—but with a mere shaking of my body—it was all over. The pleasure vanished from sight and all that remained was a sense of depression and sorrow. I sat up in bed trying to gain focus, everything was a blur and I was so cold and confused. Instead of my eyes coming into focus to a sight of an ethereal Valhalla, flowing with love, and with the promise of endless halcyon days to come; it came into sight to a dull painted room with no sense of up, down, or any adherence to the laws of gravity. My world had been “flipped upside down”. I looked to the right and saw my mom’s face, pale as a ghost—with the expression of one too; eyes as deep as a bottom-less pit. She looked at me, but it seemed as if her eyes were focused on something behind me—or as if she were looking right through me, into my soul. She had woken me up from my dreams, the only retreat I have from reality, to tell me that Yay Thoowaht(Great Grandmother in Cambodian) is very sick and that maybe this could be it. She shook me awake from my sleep, annihilated my candy shop—and replaced it with a manure factory.
My mom, sister, and I trudged through the eerie dead of the night to get to our car. My mom said that we were going to visit Yay Thoowaht in the hospital, as we have done many times before. My mom had just gotten a call from a worried relative, whom was currently “on duty”—sitting her post watching over our aged Great Grandmother, as we all took turns doing. Our relative informed us that our Yay Thoowaht might not make it through the night. We all shrugged this off and laughed at “Death’s” foolish struggle with our tough Yay Thoowaht. The record proved “Death” to be a very un-worthy adversary. Yay Thoowaht had recovered from certain death time and time again. Just as “Death” seemed to have Yay Thoowaht inches from grasp, our Yay Thoowaht would make a sudden “U-turn”, evade; so that she may taunt death once again—and perform her victory dance in the company of family. We all hypothetically questioned each other, “What if this time Yay Thoowaht isn’t so lucky, what if this visit were our last chance to show her how we felt?” We all concluded that this visit would be a special visit, in which we would treat it as if we believed it were our last chance to tell her our innermost gratitude of her and how she has done so much for the family.
As I lay in the darkness of the car, on the lonely freeway, I was caught in a trance. The steady perpetual beat of lights, from the lampposts above, was like the beating of drums. A rhythm of life; life is a rhythm we dance to. We dance, for a reason we do not know. The rhythm takes control of us and we must dance, to perform the most impressive and joyful dances we can; before the rhythm ceases to beat, before time runs out. Then we will dance no more.
Our journey brought us to the Hospital. We drove up to find a group of our family members standing oddly in the parking lot waiting for our arrival. We saw a look on their face—as if someone had just died. “But who could have died….?” I thought. I shrugged it off and said “maybe it was just that person’s time—these things happen, they will get over it”. “Now where is Yay Thoowaht I have important things to tell her”. I wanted to tell her that in no time she would be, once again, watering her garden and frolicking in the love of her family. I headed towards the hospital, with a smile on my face to meet Yay Thoowaht. I was suddenly stuck in my tracks, not able to move any further. I looked back to see that my mom had grabbed me by the arm and stopped me from galloping any further. She said “Yay Thoowaht is…” I stopped her in the middle of her sentence, and told her to tell me whatever she had to say after I have greeted Yay Thoowaht. I was in self denial, I knew what had happened but would not allow it—I would not let her confirm anything, not one damn thing! I was going to visit Yay Thoowaht and nothing would ruin it—nothing.
The car suddenly comes to a halt and the opening of car doors wakes me up. I sigh a joy of relief, because I realized that I had just dreamed all of the non-sense about Yay Thoowaht not “making it through”. But then as I emerged my head from the car I started to feel a dizzying sense of “De JaVu”. The same gathering of the family, the worried faces—I started to feel frightened that my gruesome nightmare would become a reality. So instead of giving my nightmare any chance of becoming a reality—I would simply not get out of the car. I would return home and visit Yay Thoowaht when she was better. I would visit her in her garden and she would greet me with that warm smile, as she tended her beautiful flowers and flourishing fruits. And I would return the smile—along with a great big hug.
So instead of leaving the car, I was frozen in place—by a combination of fear and hatred; hatred towards the possibility that these halcyon days would be turned into blizzards and maelstroms. But if these halcyon days did become hell, then what would happen to Yay Thoowaht’s delicate garden. It would die like everything great in this world has and my world would be reduced to sadness and a vulgar state of depression and loneliness. I started to complain, in a child-like tantrum, “Why did we have to drive all the way over here! I am tired and want to go home now!” I looked like a foolish idiot to my mourning relatives—but I was the one mourning the greatest. In my mind; rocking back-and-forth, in the fetal position, on a vomit covered putrid floor—daring “Death” to take me as well.
This trip changed my life forever. My mom drove me back home, without the opportunity to even glance at Yay Thoowaht. She took the spoiled child home so that he could get his sleep, as he so selfishly requested, while his relatives die. “He has no compassion, what a disgrace to the family they all thought.” I knew Yay Thoowaht had just died but it did not affect me whatsoever, I did not let myself succumb to the belief that she was actually dead. When I started not to see her as often, or when I saw her garden wasting away to a barren wasteland—it hit me, she is not coming back. I always thought, even during the funeral, that she would just walk right out of the coffin, smirk, and yell out “nice try ‘Death’!” Then we would all burst into laughter and once again relax in her beautiful garden and enjoy one another’s company. Enjoy the sweet aroma of the flowers, the music of the bustling wildlife, the variety of beautiful colors, and the ripe taste of her well loved fruits. She will always be alive in our hearts. She is celebrating and doing her victory dance! Look at her go. She is in a good place now. She left this world a happier place—in every respect.
This trip to the hospital was a life changing experience. Death is not to be feared. She planted her seed, of a family, and now gets to watch it blossom—from the heavens.