preferredfate

the better way.

8:20 am on a sluggish, overcast Tuesday, and you just want to make your miserable-ass way to your miserable-ass work day. Suddenly, the announcement… the train is being stopped due to an onboard assistance alarm being activated. The majority of the passengers grunt in disgust, rolls their eyes, etc. and the morning has already been soured for them.

I’d witnessed this happening at least once every other day. What becomes an interesting yet unwelcome scenario is when the passenger who needs assistance is you. Such was the case over three weeks ago on my way to work.

It was a regular day. I normally board at the southernmost car, leaning myself against the door nook at the (front?) (?) (back) (?) of the train. Bent over and engrossed in my Stephen King novel, I look up after a while and suddenly feel very hot and flustered. I loosen my scarf, the world begins to spin, and before I know it, I open my eyes to see several strangers peering down at me, asking if I’m okay, and helping me up off the floor. They make way and walk me to a seat, all while the passenger alarm is ringing, and the train suddenly halts. Davisville station. Four stops from home. A nice lady in a TTC uniform, the driver, comes up to me and asks what happened. I’m mopping the sweat off my forehead with my scarf. She tells me it’s okay to feel ill, and don’t be embarrassed, because it could happen to anybody. I’m shocked and disoriented, because it’s happened to ME. I actually fainted for the first time in my life (okay, the second time, if you count that time in grade 8 when it was cool to make someone push your throat up against the wall and make you faint – yes, it works).

A very kind lady offers to come outside and sit with me until the medics and police can assess the situation. A policeman comes very swiftly, takes my ID, and asks me a series of questions, all the while very pleasant and accommodating. Then came the paramedics, who pricked my finger for a blood sample and took my blood pressure, which turned out to be low. They suggested I go to a doctor, and told me an ambulance was waiting should I decide to take it. I declined, fearing it a) might be an extra cost I didn’t wish to handle and b) was just too much melodrama for a mere fainting incident. After taking more information, the paramedics let me back onto the train, where I headed back home immediately, emailed my boss of said incident, and headed straight to emergency with my family. Long story short, after five hours of testing and general waiting, I was declared fine and allowed to leave.

Why I am writing this story today is because I was so touched and overwhelmed to have been treated with such kindness – by fellow passengers, TTC staff, the police, and the medics. I’ll admit, I was one of those jerks who was the first to roll her eyes at any delay. Now, I’m grateful for the time that is taken to ensure the safety of every passenger onboard.

I was scared to “TTC it” for a few days after but, ever since, I ride all the way to Finch and back south just to make sure I get a seat. Doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

Lady in White

As of 9:00 am Saturday morning (3:00 am EST) we are in Malaga, Spain. Our last day in Paris was the usual: tiring but beautiful, with visits to the Notre Dame, the Galeries Lafayettes (mainly for a coffee atop the 7th floor panoramic terrace, as shopping is tres cher) and Au Printemps department stores, and the Sacre Coeur, ending the day off with Dani running around Les Jardins Tuileries and riding the carrousel.

Seeing the magnificent white Basilique du Sacre Coeur sitting atop that hill reminds me of my late Aunt, known affectionately as Tita Peng. She was a simple and inspiring lady. She had devoted her life to God and only wore white, which is why I thought of her yesterday. She passed away in 2004, in my first year (2nd attempt) of college. In my early years after first moving to Toronto from Calgary, she was always so kind and supportive. Ever since our arrival, my mother’s 4th eldest sister had always been my favourite. Though she was never officially ordained (pretty sure that’s not the right word, but there isn’t any wifi for me to google it so it’ll do), we always thought of her as a nun, and were actively part of her prayer group called Rufina’s Family Crusade. We would bring the Mother Mary from home to home and pray the rosary together, and we had even taken a pilgrimage to Montreal to visit churches and spread our word. I remember sleeping in a cot in a bare-bones monastery there, and that it felt cold and quite eerie. There was nothing on the bed other than a sheet and nothing on the walls, so I stuck a small prayer card of St. Joseph on the wall above my head with some toothpaste to protect me.

I also remember doing processions in the streets of downtown Toronto. My aunt always talked to and never turned away from the homeless, bringing them food and an ear to listen whenever they needed one. She didn’t even own a television in her apartment.

Going through my rebellious years, I would fight with my mother a lot, and I remember one incident when my mother told me to get out of the house. For a week I did, staying with my boyfriend at the time. Then I received a call from her, telling me she was sorry and to return home because she loved me (she had never, ever in my memory admitted she was wrong, nor apologized for much of anything). I later learned this was under the influence of my Tita Peng. After hearing of our fight and the harsh words exchanged, she was appalled at her younger sister and told her to call me and tell me to come home right away. Now, I was a pretty wild teenager who partied many late nights, yet my aunt never doubted that I had my head on straight and I’d make something of myself. In my eyes, she was the only great influence in my life who really knew and believed in me.

I thought of you, that beautiful white presence atop the hill, Tita Peng. I wonder if you can see for yourself, but in case you can’t, I’m working very hard. I’m trying to be the best person and mother I can and I think you’d be proud. I wish you were here to see for yourself. Danica would have loved to know you, too.

I miss you every day.

Love, your Di-Di

alpha basis birth blastoff

I once dreamt I found myself in a house and in one of the rooms was a dark shadow that terrified me so I tread lightly and eventually passed by it. I went up the stairs and in one of the rooms there was a psychic and her male associate and she was holding a handheld device with an LED display lit up with blue letters. When she saw me there, she pressed a button and the words Preferred Fate appeared on the screen. With her head, she motioned towards the staircase and the dark room below it, and I understood what she was wordlessly telling me: my preferred fate or that room; the choice was mine.

This is how my blog came to be.