A reader whom I shall call “Fanny” sent me the following e-mails in response to my poem Looking for Valentine. Sequentially, she was actually writing me after she read the touching letters by Miss H and ST. She wrote in Chinese although she understood English perfectly. To protect her privacy I’ve translated them to English without t telling you her real name or showing you the original text.

E-mail #1.

Dear Cam, I am so happy you found God.

E-mail #2.

Cam, where are you going?

She asked me that question probably because I told everybody I was leaving town for a while. After a short reply from me, in which I told her I was doing okay, she became more comfortable and opened up some more.

E-mail #3.

(The following translation is heavily editorialized to again shield her from her true identity.)

….The past year was a difficult one for me. I had frequent fights with my husband. Then my father passed away. I asked a close friend if she had a large closet I could lock myself in. She thought I was crazy.

Who would understand my feelings?

Loneliness is an awful thing. I should know. A little more than a year ago I was hospitalized for aneurysm for 20 some days. During that long stay my mind was confused most of the time but I was absolutely clear on one thing: the unbearable state of self-pity and loneliness. I wanted to commit suicide to free myself from it. Whatever drugs the doctors were prescribing to save my body might have something to do with this depressed and irrational mentality, but it sure made me miserable and wanting it to end.

My dear friend Fanny, you are not alone. I am no psychiatrist, but I share your frustration and depression. You must be a devout Christian because you were happy for me that I discovered God. This is the time to put your faith and your prayers to work. You know you are not bearing this pain all by yourself. God is in your heart with you. I bet a lot of my readers who don’t know you are rooting and praying for your strength too. I am. Reclusion “in a closet,” even metaphorically, is not the cure. I hope you seek out family and friends whom you could confide in. Whatever is so bothering you, you have to let it out. Please.

For Fanny

I ask if I control my own fate
I ask if fate makes me who I am everyday
Did God create me?
Or if men and women imagined God, visualized for all to see?

I do not know the answer 
For I lack that wise and clear sensor
Life isn’t always sweet like a parent’s kiss
To Fanny my sis
What I could proffer is only this
Open your eyes Look forward, look far
Despite its current mist
Take stock of your blessings
Your future days can be sunny and bright
A bliss

*** The End ***

 

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