October 18, 2022. One o’clock in the morning. Sleep just won’t come. No matter. Twenty-seven months, my James.

I have been thinking of that day, July 9, 2020. Dear James, that afternoon, in the kitchen, you stood by the side of the kitchen table, behind you was the kitchen island. I was on the other side of the table, in my usual seat. We were talking about the kittens. They just came home two days ago.

I then called on the kittens, “Felix. Milo”. They were upstairs.

And then James, you said, “I don’t think they even know their names. They probably just respond to the sounds”

The kittens came down to us. I think you were right, James. They wouldn’t recognize their names back then. It was just two days since we first called them their names.

James, they do now. Felix and Milo know their names. I am sure.

And James, they know your name too. My dear baby.

A couple days ago, I watched the James Bond movie “No Time to Die” again. James, it came out after. You didn’t get to see it. But I watched it for you. I just wanted to see them gather around at the end, and hear them say “To James. To James. To James”. Again and again.

James. Xiaoyang. Twenty-seven months already. We can not say it out loud in the house. But my James, my Xiaoyang, time and time again, I am still saying your name, to myself, every day.

“Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it, isn't there

If they say

Who cares if one more light goes out?

In a sky of a million stars

It flickers, flickers

Who cares when someone's time runs out?

If a moment is all we are

We're quicker, quicker

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do”

Yes, James. From one of your favorite artists. I do.

Twenty-seven months. But not a single night. Without you. Flickering in my endless dreams.

Twenty-four months ago, on this day, it was three months after. The three of us went out for a walk, on this same autumn day. We were by the lake. Mom and sister ahead. I was on my phone, writing to you. My tear weighed me down. I fell behind farther and farther.

I told myself I must keep up. I am telling myself again in this dreamless night-I must keep up.

I miss you James. I love you forever baby. 

Sister turned 16. Sister drives us everywhere. And sister starts junior in high school. Xiaoyang, sister is growing up to your age.

And I ate almost a whole cheesecake. Except the two slices for you. Except the half slice sister ate. Sister and mom don’t like cheesecake. I don’t really eat cake. But I ate almost all of it. Your nineteenth birthday cake.

The same cheesecake I got you in June 2020, for no reason. Except that you ate almost all of it yourself within a few days. Just because you love cheesecake. My baby. And it is sweet, creamy, and cheesy. And I get why you love it so much now.

James, people are talking about tennis, getting excited about the new generation of players. But I have zero interest in watching the games. No. That memory is locked.

People say: what’s past is prologue. It is mostly true, for most of the world. Except some. And we are the some, James.

Our past is our full story. I don’t want anything beyond prologue. I just don’t. I just can not allow it. But maybe I should? Because, just because the better story you have created for yourself, the better place you are in at the moment?

James, since you were a little baby, we started doing everything together. We swam together. We played basketball together. We kicked soccerballs together. We learned to ski together. We had lost count how many hours or days we spent on the tennis court. And we rode some of the world’s craziest roller coasters and water slides together, even though I was terrified in heart, l tried my best to go along with you. Through them all.

We spent hours and hours in the car practicing driving. It still plays in my head that moment, from West Ox Road to Route 50, on the late afternoon of June 1, 2020. When you hit a pothole, I asked you, “can you try to avoid potholes next time?” You, hands on the wheel, looking ahead, smiled, and said, “oopsieeee”. That gentle, pure, and innocent grin of yours, reflecting the warm setting sun, is always there, behind that same steering wheel, when I peek over from the passenger seat. Till this day.

Inside, I often felt so proud that we were trekking the path of growing up together, every step, with you, my son. 

But how could all those lead to that moment? And how can all those lead to this moment? My James?

Yesterday, sister started her first part time job. Days ago, we opened her first bank account. I teared up when I sneaked into the store to take pictures of her busy working in the store vest.

Xiaoyang, I was all guilt inside because our story doesn’t have this chapter.

Twenty-six months after our storybook ran out of pages, my dear son.

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you forever baby. 

September 10, 2022. Lunar calendar August 15. Mid-Autumn Festival, again, James.

This is a day a family gets together. However far away they were. They will share a moon cake. When the moon is in its fullest. A day you had been calling “moon cake festival”.

And I forgot the day, my baby. I am sorry.

But mom remembers. She asked us to visit you after lunch. And she has your favorite moon cake. And pineapple cake. And the beautiful bunch of fresh flowers from her gardens.

Five Mid-Autumn Festivals ago, you spent an hour taking pictures of the moon more beautiful than any I ever saw with my own eyes.

Tonight, I will take a bite of the moon cake, and look up.

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you forever baby. 

August 27, 2022. Had a rare night sleeping through the whole night. Only waking up past 6 o’clock. It’s the day sister taking SAT, like you did three years ago.

But I remembered a dream even in that deep sleep. Even though it is still hot summer. In the dream sister was putting out the Christmas lights. However, she was not laying them on the brush near the house. Instead, she decided to put them in the patch of woods a little farther in front of the house. It’s quite a bit of work. I didn’t understand why. But sister got the lights up. I watched her standing in the woods, in her black wool overcoat with the big buttons, the lights behind her. It was beautiful.

And then sister walked back to me, at the door.

And then I saw you, the tall, handsome boy standing just behind the lights, in the woods. In a grey and blue jacket that I never saw. In your new khaki pants that you wanted to buy in the Uniqlo store in Tokyo, but we told you we could get them in their Tysons Corner store. Mom did get the exact same pair for you from Tysons Corner later. But you never wore them. 

But there you were. In those pants. In those woods. Looking at us.

And I looked hard. There was your smiling face. And I looked harder. There were only the woods. And the lights.

I miss you James. I love you forever my baby. 

August 27, 2022. Sister is taking SAT today. At Chantilly High School. She was driving. The traffic into the school was all backed up. So she pulled into the Chantilly Library parking lot across the street so that she could get off the car and walk over.

I sat in the car. The sudden flush of forgotten memories swept over me again, my dear James. Yes, it’s the library we went to so many, many times. It’s the library where you signed up for their summer reading challenge at third grade, the summer we moved back to Virginia from Connecticut. A voracious little reader, you finished the two-month reading list in less than two weeks.

And it is the parking lot where I waited to pick you up from the summer boating camp every afternoon for two weeks at seventh grade.

One afternoon, as soon as the van pulled into the parking lot, the coach got off the van and walked up to me. He told me how brave and helpful you were that day. Another boat flipped over and the boys fell into the water late that day. One of the boys got tangled in something and was struggling in the water. You saw them and jumped off your boat into the water to help him out. And then you helped to right the boat with the coach.

In the car back home, I said to you, “You are awesome today, Xiaoyang”. And you just said, “My shoes are still soaking wet.” But I could see the pride on your little face. And the hardly held-back smile.

And the little boater’s certificate you got at the end of the camp. Xiaoyang, we joked about you taking us out on a boat for a few days. But we never got around to it.

And I had forgotten all these. And I have never seen that certificate. And we had not been back here for so long.

I am so sorry James.

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you forever my baby. 

August 20, 2022. On this day, I suddenly think of the green apple. The rubber green apple. The first green of early spring. The freshest green of your favorite color.

Mom got it for you from a trip. And you loved it. It was always on the left side of your desk, by your computer keyboard. The top was actually a cover for you to open it and use the apple as a small storage for little thingy.

Mom and I knew how much you loved it. Among other things, we left the green apple sitting by your left hand, forever.

But did I open the cover to see if there was anything inside? I probably didn’t. Could there have been a note in there, my baby?

The green apple had been standing in such an obvious place. You knew your stupid dad would see it. You knew nobody could have missed it. But you didn’t know I would just send it away with you, without looking into it first, did you?

Oh my god. I am such an idiot. I am so sorry, my Xiaoyang. 

August 18, 2022. Twenty-five months. My dear James.

My baby. Counting the days, and months, and years, twenty-five is so strange. Back 17 years ago, in August 2005, that was about when I stopped counting by months. I would start telling people my sweet baby was two years old, more than two years old, three years old, four years old……….

No. Twenty-five is so strange. It is not for this world. It doesn’t belong in our lives, my Xiaoyang.

But, saying “more than two years” is just cruelty. My baby.

How can it be that distant if I still feel the scent of your sweat in the air. How can it be so long ago if It still flashes through my mind I could just reach a little further into the light and pull you into my arms for a hug every so often. And never let go again. Never.

How can it be. How could it be.

My dear Xiaoyang. It is also twelve months already that I can’t muster the courage to look at any pictures of you. I always asked you to be strong, to be tough, to be brave. But at the end, I am a coward.

I am so sorry, Xiaoyang.

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you forever baby. 

August 4, 2022. The seventh day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar for the year of the tiger, Valentine’s Day of in the legends of the Orient. Both are your birthday. And they fall on the same day this year. Today. My James. Today you turn nineteen, my baby.

We will have a cheesecake, Xiaoyang. Sister will decorate it, most beautifully, with your favorite fruits.

10 days ago, we just arrived in Amsterdam late evening. I was awake till almost 4 AM. Then I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, it was 5:34 AM when I opened my eyes.

And you came during the one and a half hour. In that dream, I was watching the four of us living our everyday life, just as everyone else’s. You were always that happy boy, running around, laughing, and telling us jokes at the dinner table. And then, I began to notice something. We were all growing older and showing changes in our appearances as the days went on. But you did not. I quietly asked a few other people watching the movie besides me. I asked them if they saw the same 16-, or 15-, or 14-year-old boy. They said no. Instead, they saw the you that was older, maybe 19-, or 20-, or much more than 20 years old. A grown man that was maybe six or six feet two inches tall, not the five feet eleven inches boy I kept seeing.

I then turned to Mom and Sister. They said they saw the same you, fully grown as other people told me, as well.

But when I looked, I still only saw the 16-, or 15-, or 14-year-old you there. However, I rubbed and blinked my eyes. It didn’t change. I was just looking at the same you.

I began to realize something was wrong with me. It was justs illusions in my vision.

I don’t remember how long ago the dream went away before I opened my eyes.

But the illusions stuck. I remembered I felt happy that other people saw the you that was fully grown, taller and bigger. I felt happy that the illusions I kept seeing were wrong.

But did I? Should I? My dear Xiaoyang?

Happy Birthday, Xiaoyang. 

My dearest Xiaoyang. July 18.

Just two more days. We would be going to Virginia Beach. You would be driving. For our first road trip with you at the steering wheel. We would be camping, on the sand, under the starry night sky. The same spot, just as we did a few years before.

And we would chat. Long chats, dad and son, and mom and sister.

We had our last long chat at the end of June. You were so much better after. And then for almost eight days in a row, you closed yourself in again. I was worried. I was anxious. But I thought to myself, it would just be another couple of days, and we would be in the car, and in the tent together. We would then talk it through. I told myself to be patient, which I never was.

James, my baby. Never rude to anybody. Never mad at anyone. Never irrational. Never fought me or walked out on me. Never did anything alarming. Always such a sweet son, a loving brother and caring friend.

Just two more days. I told myself to wait those two more days.

But my world ended before that July 18.

Two days before last Christmas, December 23, 2021, the cruise we took ported at Nassau, the Bahamas. The three of us strolled around the city. You didn’t go there. The last time we went to the Bahamas together, the four of us, in the spring of 2016, we spent all four days in the resort area and the water park. Mom saw a wooden turtle in the craft market. She couldn’t take her eyes away. She bought it. James, you know mom never cared about turtles. There is one person in our family who was fascinated by turtles for a couple years. And that is you, my baby. Mom brought the turtle home. It has been sitting on her dresser.

We never talked about the turtle when she bought it. We never talk about the turtle at home. We just have it sitting quietly in our room, baby.

My dear James. We used to share a secret, just between the two of us. I used to buy Ferrero Rocher chocolate often, even though I avoid eating sweets myself. Because you all love it. But then I noticed mom was eating too much of it. So I began to hide it, and only take some out for you all in a grand gesture once a while as a surprise. But soon I told you, just you, where I hid them. You have always been the healthiest and skinniest in the family. My worry about you was always not eating more. I still remember that evening in April 2020, the two of us at the kitchen table, me at your usual seat and you at mine, having our nightly routine of fruit. You told me proudly, “Dad, I’m over 120 pounds now”. And I slapped the bicep of your right arm to feel its toughness.

Life is some tiny secret. Life is some little silly moments.

Or endless nothingness.

James. When you were that little three-year-old, you were always clinging to my side. Until one day I told you, “James, you’ve got to be brave and wander out a bit more. Don’t just hold on to mom and dad all the time”. You did, cautiously.

Until one day, in the sudden downpour of rain in Lucerne, Switzerland. On the beautiful Chapel Bridge across the Ruess River. We decided you and I would run back to the car to get the umbrellas while mom and sister wait there. But after a minute of running, I knew I was slowing you down. I asked you, “Xiaoyang, do you think you can run to the car to get the umbrellas yourself? I am too slow to keep up with you”. You said, “Sure”. And then you ran on. It was such an anxious 15-minute wait for me until you came back to me. We just arrived at a new city, barely an hour and half ago. And I let you go off by yourself. It was August 24, 2017. You just turned fourteen. That day I was so happy that my baby had grown up.

The nights after you left us all behind, in July 2000, the rain was pouring hard, every night. I stared at the cracking thunders. I begged the unending lightning: Would you please just strike me? Don’t just stop at the windows.

How could I let you go into that ruthless rain alone?

That movie is still playing in my vision most days. You were just a few months past one year old. We were at the playground in Fair Oaks Mall. You were climbing on the big block in the cener, wandering around the animals. But every few minutes, you would look for me. And I would call out your name, and stretch out my arms toward you. You would smile, and run into my arms for a hug. Then you would go back out to play.

And this clip, when you were almost two years old. In the apartment in Fair Lake. You were holding a big bowl of grapes. Mom and me sitting round. You would pick up a grape, put it in mom’s mouth. And then another one, in my mouth. And then one for yourself. Again and again. The three of us sharing the sweetest thing in the world. The next moment, you looked into the bowl. Only a couple of grapes left. You picked up one, almost giving it to mom. Then you thought again, little fist paused in the air, with that precious grape, halfway between you and mom. We then saw that tiny hand turn backward, the grape into your own mouth. We all got amused, reaching for your mouth, and the grapes in your bowl. You turned around and ran away, little palm cupping over the precious bowl. What a chase in the small apartment. We all ended up on the floor, rolling around, laughing so hard.

And we’ll always have Paris. That beautiful evening of August 31, 2014. The four of us walked back to the hotel after dinner, by the Seine River. The silky water dancing with the light show from the Eiffel Tower across the river. The lampposts lining the river bank, aged and ornate, bathed in the gentle moonlight. Sister hand in hand with mom ahead of us. Me wrapping my right arm around your right shoulder. A bottle of wine in me. I was talking nonstop. And you said, “Ba Ba is drunk”. We leaned on the stone railings, took in the perfect summer night of the City of Light, and many silly photos of ourselves.

Two days before that, we left a lock with all our names on Pont des Arts over the Reine. The day before we left, we paid the lock another visit. Today, it must have been long gone. But the moments were locked away. Nothing can ever steal them, my dearest James.

In April 2020, you wrote, “I would love to visit Paris, France again……I loved the You loved the atmosphere when I visited there as a small child”.

A little child so happily clinging to my side.

There was perfect. Even though perfect is always only a fleeting illusion. Like a firefly in the summer.

My dear James, those are the movies that keep me surviving the darkest moments. My James.

I heard the saying “three years of mourning” a long time ago. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think it was possible. Until I don’t see it any other way myself. Is it really two years without you, my baby. Why do I still have that vision that I can simply pull you into my arms in the bright daylight?

Life moves on. From the present to the next present. Nature’s rule. For the world. But it is cruelty, for some.

My dear Xiaoyang, that is why we are son and father, right? You defy life by living the future. I defy life by living the past tense. Just a little more. And a little longer. It is all that matters.

James. USTA sent you a membership renewal notice. We signed up for five years last time. We thought it was such a long commitment. But we were committed. Weren’t we?

Still almost a full case of unopened tennis balls. Eight tennis rackets. All those, I could never touch again. There was not a single other activity we spent more time together. Just you and me. On the court. Under the sizzling sun. In the freezing winds. It was a bubble for just the two of us.

We started playing tennis when you were just five in the town tennis court in New Canaan, Connecticut. Then one evening when you were eight, on the Dairy Lou tennis court in Franklin Farm in Virginia, you hit an almost twenty-stroke full-court rally with me. I was astonished. You were excited, and proudly asked me, “Ba Ba, are you happy?” By thirteen, your powerful forehand strokes were smashing my racket out of my grip. Yes, Xiaoyang, I was so happy.

Why, why, when I occasionally see the beautiful pictures of your handsome face, I would feel like a hot iron stick puncturing my eyes, or a swinging sledgehammer I instantly run away from? Because what never leaves me, is the pain that hurts me so.

My dear Xiaoyang, were you happy? For two years, this has been the question I keep asking myself, asking you, my baby. This has been the question tearing at me, eating me up. How do I, as a father, need to ask myself this question?

Days ago, Sister asked me to take her out driving at night. She said she needs 15 hours of nighttime driving practice for her driver’s license. That shocked me right back to the night of July 4, 2020. Before going home from the holiday party at a friend’s place, you asked, “Can I drive? I need to practice driving at night.” Xiaoyang, you were still planning to get your driver’s license. At that moment. And that night, you were telling your friends we were getting two kittens in three days.

The kittens have grown up, Xiaoyang. Many times a day, your Milo would lean on a window in the kitchen, to look at the two cardinals on a tree in the backyard. They look so much like the two outside your windows too, James. No, I know they can’t be the same. Yet, they are here, for Milo? Or for us all?

Xiaoyang, the beautiful birds, Blue and Sparky, have both passed away in the last few months. The first thing you did coming home from school every afternoon, was to feed them and change their water. They want to keep you company, forever, too.They want to fly around you, rest on your shoulders, and walk on your arms again.

Every day On your phone and on my iPad, there is a reminder of “Do Homework” at 4 pm. You set that reminder under your Apple ID in July 2019. Every day on my phone, there is a reminder to check your Google folder at 7 pm. Every day, I have two reminders of you, my dear James. A pretend world. A pretend reality where you are right by me.

My dear James, for two years, I have been listening to only one music playlist, one of your two. I can still not muster the courage to listen to the other one. And baby, when the songs go on, there is never a nanosecond of doubt. You are my dearest. You are the best thing that ever happens to me:

“The sun goes down, the stars come out

And all that counts is here and now

My universe will never be the same

I'm glad you came

I'm glad you came”

Baby, you came to us. For the precious sixteen years, three hundred and forty-eight days. Seventeen days short of the seventeenth birthday.

But the after? One foot in front of the other. One day after another. I walk on. For two years now. But to where, Xiaoyang?

“There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes

In a happy home, I was a king, I had a golden throne

Those days are gone, now the memory's on the wall

I hear the songs from the places where I was born

Upon the hill across the blue lake

That's where I had my first heartbreak

I still remember how it all changed

My father said

Don't you worry, don't you worry child

See heaven's got a plan for you”

Upon the hill of the Swiss Alps, across the blue lake we looked into Italy. Right there, you taught me to take one of your favorite photos of yourself, with your camera, in the summer of 2017. The young man, tall and handsome, with the smile from the purest heart, stood on the endless green in the gentle breeze from heaven. We were living a fairytale. We were in heaven.

For seventeen days short of seventeen years.

We miss you Xiaoyang. We love you forever baby. 

June 19, 2022.Our paths.

“There was a time

I used to look into my father's eyes

In a happy home

I was a king, I had a golden throne

Those days are gone

Now they're memories on the wall

I hear the songs from the places where I was born

Up on a hill across the blue lake

That's where I had my first heartbreak

I still remember how it all changed

My father said

Don't you worry, don't you worry, child

See heaven's got a plan for you

Don't you worry, don't you worry now

Yeah……..”

Dear Baby, I put on your AirPods, out to the summer sun, submerged in your songs, retracing the paths we took together, one foot in front of the other. It is our quiet time. The world of you and me. Father and son.

The familiar path ahead keeps going. To places we had been to, together. Instead I see the flashback of the slideshow you made, on Father’s Day seven years ago, in 2015. You called it “Where Is Dad?” Where you led little sister along in a journey of trying to find me.

And I look up now. All I see is your favorite colors: green and blue.

I miss you baby. I love you my dear baby. 

The promise. June 18,2022. Your Home.

James. On the evening of June 18, 2017, you made a promise to little sister. You promised to take sister to Busch Garden again. We were waiting in the line of a ride little sister really wanted. But it was halted by a thunderstorm. You and I thought we should get going for the long drive home. Sister didn’t want to. She still had hope the thunders may pass. So you promised her you will take her back to Busch Garden again, even if Dad doesn’t. You said you will. A promise.

That was five years ago. To this day. What a day we had in the park. We rode high. We plunged deep. We sweated under the sun. We got soaked by the intermittent rains. We laughed. We laughed so hard. This world was full of fun. Full of hope for the fourteen year old. The tallest in the family by a lot. The young man who was starting to look after little sister, mom, and the old man.

And the young man made his first promise. That day. June 18, 2017.

Dear James, I can no longer count that far back. The starting point of all my counting, has forever changed, fixated at one singular dot. Twenty-three months since. My dear baby.

James. You offered to vacuums the house in June 2020. But you were not able to keep it. I saw you clean up things, fixed the wall outlet in your study that you took off more than a year before. You cleaned up the things that you could do in the quiet of the night, a half hour, without waking us up. But you didn’t keep your offer of vacuuming.

I keep thinking why. Why didn’t you keep your promise, baby. I am so sorry. Baby.

You don’t know it. But the days and weeks after you joined us in this world, I was scared. I was afraid I couldn’t protect you well enough. I would look at that chubby little meatball, thinking again and again if I had done everything right. I would playfully swallow your tiny fist, and your stub of a foot, to get you to laugh. Subconsciously, I might have a mind that putting you in me was also a way to protect you from all the dangers out there in the world.

I had forgotten my promise, my James.

More than a few times, in the past so many months, I would ask you in my mind: “James, how could you do that? Don’t you know you owe me for all those I’ve done for you? How could you leave me just like that?”

And then, I would bang my head on the wall, again and again, for even thinking that. For even thinking of placing blame on you.

I failed to keep my promise. I fail.

Since twenty-three months ago, I has stopped making promises. Then, I began to realize sometimes your face, your high dimple to the right of your cheek, your boyish voice, and your young-man voice, are starting to fade in my memory. I caught moments that I wasn’t thinking of you. Then I pinched myself. Then I know. I am failing to keep one last, and only, promise, to you, to myself, even if I never said it.

I am sorry, my James.

I miss you James. I love you forever baby. 

Dear James, I woke up in the middle of the night, from a dream, days ago. I kept driving down a road. Fast. Even though there was a lot of traffic. At the end of the road, I needed to either turn left, to go back home, or turn right, to drop you off someplace. I turned right once. All the other times, I chose left in the final split second, for home. We just kept making that mad dash, on that same road, again and again.

That road was not a road that I recognize. That city was not a city I know. But thinking hard, the layout looked a little like New Canaan, Connecticut, even though it’s a suburban bedroom community, not a busy city as in the dream.

But there we were. You and me. Driving fast on the same road. Rushing somewhere. But nowhere.

It was the morning your sister turned sixteen. Dear James, sixteen. I saved you the slice of the cake with the number 16 on it. The other day, sister asked where the 16 went. I pointed at it at the back of the refrigerator. And she nodded. Sister understands.

We miss you James. We love you forever baby. 

October 2014. You just started your sixth grade at a new school. You had to finish your last year of elementary school by making new friends in a new environment because we moved, again.

Since kindenergoseden, you had attended four elementary schools by the time you chose which middle school to go to. Floris, South School, Oak Hill, Sunrise Valley. Virginia, Connecticut, and then Virginia again.

A few days into your new school in October 2014, I asked you, “Xiaoyang, do you like your new school?” You said in your usual boyish and happy tone, “Yeah”. I said, “I’m sorry to make you leave your friends at Oak Hill. Sometimes life is just not in your control”. To that you answered, “You get what you get. You don’t always get what you want. “

At that moment, I was just amazed how much my boy knew, and how matured beyond his age he was. And then I thought that was how you should be because you had always been so smart. And instead of giving you a big hug, I just simply let any fleeting thought of that go.

Until this morning, I woke up to your sweet boyish voice again, “You get what you get. You don’t always get what you want.”

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you baby. 

May 18, 2022. Your Home.

Some say time can make light of things. Some say time heals. Yes. And Yes. But only for the world. For most.

Not for a cocoon. Or just some cocoons. Where the senses, the scents, and time can be sealed, and seem still reachable, from the inside.

Twenty-two months. My dear baby.

My dear Xiaoyang. There is a difference between light and empty. Day by day, it is not lighter and lighter. It is emptier and emptier, and more emptier.

 The emptiness makes you feel like running away, even flying away, at ease. Or a little at peace? My dear James?

Xiaoyang, your lovely kitten, Milo, is just like you. He always clings to the doors and windows, longing for the big, big world outside. He wants to run out to explore. But not away.

Every meal we have at the kitchen table, milo would jump onto your spot, and patiently eat with us. Felix never does that. Every night, milo would quietly sleep by my feet, and then sit by my side waiting patiently for the new day. Felix doesn’t do that. Every evening when I sit down in the couch, Milo would jump on my lap and make himself comfortable. Felix doesn’t do that.

Every time any door is opened, Milo would make a run for it to get out and explore the outside world. Felix never wants that.

Until one day, we couldn’t find Milo anywhere in the house. We all went out looking for him. And I went over the whole neighborhood and the surrounding streets, calling out his name. My heart sank. Until we found him. Mom found him hiding in a tiny crack under the deck of a neighbor, scared, but calling back to mom when he heard her.

In early July 2020, your Google activity records show your searched up how to raise kittens, twice. You were preparing to welcome your Milo and Felix home. You were going to watch them grow up.

Milo and Felix, the twin brothers, look in no way like twins, except they are both beautiful and cute, and kind to each other. Felix always looks like the grownup, eyelids drooping a little, with the worries of the world in him. Milo always looks at everybody, everything, and the outside world with his big round eyes wide open, with all the curiosity and cuteness of a baby.

 Always like a baby to rub on us, lean on us, and sit on us, any chance he gets. To be with us. Your lovely Milo. Is it fate? Did you arrange that?

Three nights ago. I couldn’t sleep. So I went downstairs to read. And James, your Milo just got up from the bed and quietly went down with me, picked a comfortable spot on the chair, and continued his sleep until four in the morning.

In the dead of the night, little Milo brought quiet peace into the tiny cocoon.

James, I always remember that afternoon, July 8, 2020, the day after we brought Felix and Milo home. You and I sat on your bathroom floor, watching Milo play. You asked me, “Ba Ba, do you like his pattern?” I said, “of course. Like a tiger”.

And we almost lost your Milo. I am so sorry baby.

A few days ago, I got a surprise text message from a good friend of yours, asking about us. About you, James. He told me he was back in town for some time. And he brought me the answer to one more of the many questions. Dear James, I was so touched. To the deep, deep bottom of my heart.

 James. Mom just had an art exhibition, together with a good friend, two weeks ago. It was quite some beautiful paintings. One of mom’s work won a first place in an international competition too.

James, since young, you had shown us your artistic talent. Drawing and craft work just came naturally out of you. Still remember that first day we put you in a new day care center in Tysons Corner. It was in early 2008, you were four and a half year old. I went to pick you up after work. And the teacher excitedly showed me the huge transformer drawing you did, almost as tall as you. I was amazed, but not surprised. Because I know my little artist. 

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you forever baby.

It was that intriguing dream in the twilight hours. I was driving to the edge of town. More like escaping. From something chasing me.

The buildings were getting sparser, and the trees thicker.  It became the edge of a forest, and mountains in the distance ahead. I abandoned the car, and got on the grass. I saw a lot of deers, everywhere.

I ran on. But then, I noticed some deers were in different shapes. No, some of them were not deers. They had furs the same color of Milo’s.  But they were goats. I strained my eyes and looked more carefully. Yes, I was sure many of them were goats. A lot of them, all the way into the forest, and up the mountain.

They seemed to subtly form a path for me, to guide me, into the beautiful green of the woods and mountain slopes, and all the way into the serene white of the clouds caressing the mountain crest.

Oh my Xiaoyang, my little goat. How I miss you.

I woke up with the tune of “See You Again” in me. It was our favorite in the house for quite a while. We hummed or sang it together when it just came out. A lifetime ago.

“It's been a long day without you, my friend

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again

We've come a long way from where we began

Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again

When I see you again

Damn, who knew?

All the planes we flew, good things we been through

That I'd be standing right here talking to you

'Bout another path, I know we loved to hit the road and laugh

But something told me that it wouldn't last

Had to switch up, look at things different, see the bigger picture

Those were the days, hard work forever pays

Now I see you in a better place (see you in a better place)

Uh

How can we not talk about family when family's all that we got?

Everything I went through, you were standing there by my side

And now you gon' be with me for the last ride

It's been a long day without you, my friend

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again (I'll see you again)

We've come a long way (yeah, we came a long way)

From where we began (you know we started)

Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again (I'll tell you)

When I see you again

First, you both go out your way and the vibe is feeling strong

And what's small turned to a friendship, a friendship turned to a bond

And that bond will never be broken, the love will never get lost

(The love will never get lost)

And when brotherhood come first, then the line will never be crossed

Established it on our own when that line had to be drawn

And that line is what we reached, so remember me when I'm gone

(Remember me when I'm gone)

How can we not talk about family when family's all that we got?

Everything I went through you were standing there by my side

And now you gon' be with me for the last ride

So let the light guide your way, yeah

Hold every memory as you go

And every road you take

Will always lead you home, home

It's been a long day without you, my friend

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again

We've come a long way from where we began

Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again

When I see you again

When I see you again (yeah, uh)

See you again (yeah, yeah, yeah)

When I see you again”

April 22, 2022. James, my dear baby.

Watched a movie last night. It was made in 2003. Its main character was named James. He was a talented computer programmer. He was a new recruit at CIA. And he made good cheese eggs.

My dear James. You invented your own cheese eggs recipe at your second grade, with tomato in it. It had been such a special dish in so many of our dinners for so many years.

It has been another sleepless night.

I miss you James. I love you forever my Xiaoyang.



April 18, 2022. Your home. My Xiaoyang.

Spring is finally taking hold out there. After a year of planning and hardwood, mom has transformed the boring little lawn around the house into a beautiful flower garden. All kinds of flowers are in full bloom now. Colors are flowing in the breeze.

Twenty-one months now. My James. I so often lose track of the date, but I just keep counting a number that goes only hopelessly in one way.

The way of pain. The pain is so acute, so complete. Everywhere I look, the old house in imagination, the new house in reality, it’s pieces of pain scattered around.

Pain is you eyes are suddenly hit by a shockwave in the dead of night, and jerk wide open. You see nothing in the darkness, but the air you breathe feels like icicles.

What purpose does pain serve?

Saw a TV show not long ago, a sad yet beautiful, poetic drama about an arduous and lonely journey to the American west more than a hundred years ago, in which it said, “pain is your best friend. Because you know you are alive”.

No. They don’t know pain. They thought pain is physical. No. The real pain is not.

I didn’t know pain. James. I got cut. I won’t let out a sound. I got burnt. I won’t pay it attention. But I was plunged into a journey of pain.

James. Did you know pain? You probably did. You probably didn’t. Do you?

One night in seventh grade, maybe late spring or early summer of 2016, I saw on your left shin a big patch of bloody bruises. You didn’t mention it at all when you came home earlier in the afternoon. I asked you about it. You just shrugged, “nah. I fell when I was running around with friends at school”. My worry went away. Inside I was happy. I felt my boy was growing up, and growing tough. He was no longer that little baby who insisted on a bandaid for every tiny scratch.

James. I almost died twice, as a child. The first time as a baby, with the brain membrane infection, in a village. Grandma told me the doctor in the city hospital said I was maybe a day from being too late. The other time when I was maybe four year old. Your grand-grandfather was with me by the river bank. I fell and got swept away, only to be picked up by somebody else down river. I just won’t die. And I’d used up all the fortune, for the both of us. That’s not the fate I want. That’s not the destiny you deserve. I don’t deserve you, baby.

April 12, 2022. I saw you in my dream, sitting across a table with a friend at a restaurant. Like two young men. Your friend more muscular. You were still slim but your frame bigger now. Your hair looked a little shorter by your standard, combed to the front and right. Your face still immaculate, clean, and neat. Your jaw sharper. You leaned forward, back straight, so attentive and involved in the conversation, not knowing I was there watching you on the side.

It was like a movie set. I was looking at you from your right. Then I was able to slowly circle to your front, and see your full handsome face. You were smiling, that gentle and sweet smile. But not seeing me.

I then spent hours lying in bed, thinking hard. Why was that dream? Maybe subconsciously, I was just longing for you to live a normal life, just as everybody else?

April 14, 2022, baby, I lived with you in the dream again. It was under a collapsing house. I got you and sister outside already. But somehow there was something, I don’t remember what it was, that I had to go back in to get for you. You told me it was nothing important. But I was determined to get it. Just because it’s yours. Baby, you gave me your backpack to shield myself from the falling objects from the house. I was back in the house, your backpack slung on my right shoulder, instead of the usual left. The backpack blocked away all the things falling on me.

Your backpack saved me. Again and again. But the dream went away before I could get back out to you and sister. I was just in the house, running, and hiding, and blocking with your backpack, again and again.

Half a world away, millions of people are suffering the madness of this world.

A world away, my Xiaoyang, in a world of your design, I know there is peace; there is perfect; and there is normal.

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you more My baby. 

April 9, 2022. We are going to celebrate the birthday for Milo and Felix. James, the little kittens, as you remember them, are turning two today. Sister has presents wrapped for them. She will make a birthday cake for them.

A good fiend visits us this weekend. We went out to a barbecue place for dinner. Why did we pick a barbecue place? I wasn’t sure. But subconsciously, did I do that because she reminded me so much of you? She first met you when you were just days into this world, baby.

But no, baby. I don’t really need any reminder of you, do I?

It was a gloomy evening outside. Between drizzles. Cold. It’s supposed to be spring already. But unlike a normal spring in April.

Looking at the platter of ribs and briskets. Yes Xiaoyang. The barbecue ribs. Your boyish voice was ringing in my mind, from seven years ago. It was the same gloomy spring evening, patchy drizzles outside the windows. But the four of us were in a cozy booth at the left end corner of a warm Applebee’s restaurant. It was April, 2015. It was in Delaware, not somewhere close home like yesterday. It was a Saturday evening, not Friday like yesterday. It was when we always found things to do for weekends. When there were four of us.

I wanted to bargain you into ordering from the two-for-one menu so I could save some money. But you wanted the barbecue baby back ribs. And when your food came, you burst out “Ribs”. Your big eyes even bigger, your thick brows wider. In that happy boy’s voice, the gloominess outside mattered not a teensy bit to us.

I had an extra piece of the rib for you, baby.

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you always, baby. 

March 18, 2022. Twenty months. Twenty. James, remember how we started counting together? How we tapped all your tiny fingers and stubby toes, and ended up with silly smiles on all our surprised faces?

James. Ever so often, when I go to a new place, or a place we went to together, I ask myself, I ask you, “James, do you see what I see?”

James. What is it worth to me to be there if you don’t see what I see?

James. My dear James. You designed a better world. You took charge of your destiny. However much I don’t want to accept it.

Do you see what this world has become here?

Millions of people are getting their lives destroyed for no fault of their own. So many of them children, many younger than you, many your same age, full of dreams. Most of them are adults. All have their lives shattered. By the evils in this world.

So many of the kind people have controls over their lives taken out of their own hands. What has this world become?

I used Airbnb to rent an apartment in Kyiv, Ukraine as a form of contribution to the people there suffering from this madness. I sent the host a note. He replied graciously and courageously. And he ended his message with “God bless you” even when he might be under bombing from the evils of this world at that moment.

He doesn’t want any of this. He was living his peaceful life, like all his countrymen did. But he can not take charge of his own life, in this world.

My dear James. I know you are blessing us too. But you know what I want is your presence. Here.

In the early morning hours of March 10, 2020, my baby, you came in my dream again. You were in your white and orange stripe shirt. The one with big horizontal stripes. The one you wore when you were five or six year old. Blue shorts. White ankle socks. And your favorite Nike air snickers. The last pair of yours.

You were up on a giant tree. Did not see how you got up there. You stood on a big branch. Your arms stretching up onto a higher branch. You looked down at me. Smiling, calling me “Ba Ba” as you used to do.

I looked up at you, so fearful for your safety. But what I saw was not that five or six year old little boy. It was that five feet eleven inches big boy. The handsome face with all the angles formed just like you were. The big eyes shining at me under those sharp and thick eyebrows.

You were calling “Ba Ba”. You wanted to come down from the tree. You tried but somehow you were afraid.

It felt like I could just reach up and touch your feet. But however I tried, I just couldn’t. I jumped. And I jumped. And I jumped. All futile. However I tried, you were just out of my reach.

I stood closer so you might step on my shoulder, or my head. I reached as high as I could with my arms so you may try stepping on my hands too. I bent down so you could land onto my back. I asked you to just leap off to my arms so that we I would grab you and fall together.

But no matter how hard I tried, you were still standing on the big branch of the giant tree. Arms stretching high holding onto the next tall branch. Smiling at me. The kind and sweet smile I took for granted for so many years.

I kept trying, jumping and jumping. I got despaired and scared. And then I suddenly got my eyelids open. I woke up to a damp pillow.

My dear Xiaoyang, I miss you. My baby, I love you forever. 

February 18, 2022. Nineteen months. My James. How has nineteen months passed me by, my Xiaoyang?

I was in front of the TV last night. A beautiful scenery appeared on the screen. Horses running on the golden plain, grasses swaying in the golden breeze, in the golden fall.

My mind somehow drifted into that golden autumn day in September 2009, in Connecticut. Under the shining stars, on the ground of South School, where you just started first grade, the four of us sat on the blanket, and watched our first movie outdoor, Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs. The movie was hilarious. You were so proud because it was at your school. Sister was admiring her big brother. Years and years later, that movie just keeps flashing back. Was that evening really so long ago, my baby?

James. Our first cartoon together was Tom and Jerry. We have a whole collection of the shows. Since you were that tiny meatball who started to crawl. I watched them when I was a kid, laughing by myself. And then I watched them with you on my laps, laughing my heart out, just because you were laughing. And I don’t know since when we began the tradition of negotiations. I would say five more minutes. And you would counter “ten”. And did you remember, you always won.

Our last movie together was Midway, in April 2020. In the living room of that house no more. You sat on the floor, leaning on the big white sofa as usual. No more.

Every few days after, I would ask you, “Xiaoyang, watch a movie with me?” You were always like, “Nah, you can watch. I have to do something. “ it’s only after, after it’s too late after, that I knew you were spending all those time on games, and more on Japanese anime, character reversals, afterlife. School was closed. There were virtual classes. But they didn’t require you to turn in homework assignments if you didn’t want to improve your grades from where they were before they closed down the schools. You had all the time to indulge. To get lost. And I was so blind.

My James. You were so smart, smarter than your age. And you were so immature, more so than your age. And I am such a fool.

James. You were always the youngest in your class. I began to regret not holding you back a year soon after you started school. But I am such a fool as always. Never acted when I should have.

You probably stopped going to grocery shopping with me since middle school. But there was a day in 2019. We were in Costco together. Because I took you to a haircut and still had some time to spend before we picked up sister from her dance class. I stopped in front of the big TVs for a few seconds. You said, “Why are you looking at TVs. We almost never use our TV anymore. “ We then walked on.

Oh James, TV was only for the precious moments we shared, together. The nights we spent together watching Harry Potter. Watching Lord of the Rings. Watching Star Wars. Watching Ratatouille. And watching Tom and Jerry. Like a movie playing again and again. Just too short, my baby. This movie is so short that it is just cruelty. And this is the only movie that matters to my life.

James. You amazed me with your first shorted making videos at the sixth grade. You even named yourself “The Napkin Studio”. I was thrilled by my boy’s artistic talent. When I saw you spent countless hours filming and editing your school’s spirit videos, I sometimes asked myself: maybe one day Director James Huang of these videos would become Director James Huang on a big screen?

My baby. I saw you had an idea to create a video game. Maybe you had an idea to direct your own movie? My James. You probably didn’t know it. But you must know it by now. You took a big piece with me into that movie with you.

But that final movie of yours still has no part for me, does it?

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you my baby. 

January 31, 2022. The last day of the year of cow. Tomorrow will come the year of tiger. My year. But all I am thinking is the year of goat, you, my baby, my Xiaoyang.

Creeping in and out of sleep in that twilight hour, I dreamed of Angels Flight on Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles. That iconic tram climbing up and down the hill. We were at the bottom of the hill in summer 2016. You and sister got into the tram and rode up.

We were at the bottom of the hill in December 2017 again. But you decided not to join sister and mom for the ride again. Instead, you walked the numerous steps up the hill with me, taking pictures along the way. And then, we saw them just before reaching the top of the hill. The goats. Somebody was raising four goats on Bunker Hill, Los Angeles.

Goats. And my little goat. Angels Flight. Where angels take flight.

I missed you every day, my Xiaoyang. I love you forever, my baby. 

January 18, 2022. Eighteen months. One year, and a half. My dearest James.

You were not really ready to journey alone. Yet you decided to fly on. Yet I find myself trekking into the abyss.

On Christmas Eve 2021, at the traffic light of the off-ramp from the highway in Jacksonville, Florida, a young man was holding up a cardboard that said, “I lost everything but faith”. When he walked up, I asked mom to roll down the window and help him out a little bit. From his look, he could only be in his very early 20s, shorter than you, and almost as skinny as you. I would never know how life led him to that junction off the highway. But it seemed he at least found the right words to carry on with his life. And he must have learned hardship. Baby, we had everything we needed in this world. I talked hardship growing up myself, but never got it across to you. You have been so smart and just breezed through everything with ease. Life had been too easy. But you got lost in a week and we’ve lost everything. How should I pay for my failure?

A few weeks ago, in the Caribbean ocean, I screwed up in snorkeling. Twice. The second time., I struggled in the waves, choking in the bitter sea water, my throat burning, having a hard time staying afloat with all those equipment on me. I felt I wouldn’t make it if the shore was five more meters out. Baby, all kinds of thoughts flashed through my mind while I panicked. But thinking back, it wasn’t just fears. There was also numbness in the mix. But I knew I had to make it.

Two days ago, I drove your sister’s good friend home from our place in the evening. She just lost her mom a few days earlier. You know her mom, James. I know you will see her and help her up there, right? On the way home myself, I took West Ox Road. And then, not even thinking about it, I found myself taking the turn left onto Vale Road. The turn that I took countless times before, to THAT house. That familiar narrow, winding, hilly road. The road that I stared so hard at so many times, first on the driver’s side, and then on the passenger’s side, with my heart at my throat, while teaching you to drive. We even joked about it. You were going to be a great driver because you learned to drive on the most difficult road around. You did great on those roads, in the rain, and in the snow even. I thought I prepared you well for life.

Last Saturday, I went to the dentist for the first time in two years. Couldn’t go there for so long. Because, we always made our dentist visits at the same time, together, on Saturday mornings. Every time, they would marvel at how much taller you were getting. This time, I went there by myself for the first time in so many years. I was so afraid what they might ask about. But Ben, the hygienist, who I first met there almost 20 years ago, asked me about your sister. I was so moved, and so relieved, by his kindness. James, at the end of our dental visits there on December 7, 2019, the lady at the front office scheduled our next visits for June 6, 2020. I said to you, “James, put it on your calendar”. And then I saw you tapping away on your phone, then said to me, “Done.” We cancelled that appointment due to Covid. And Covid cancels our lives.

Life in life. Life in afterlife. The world moves on regardless. We talked about parallel worlds years ago. Yet where is the portal in the endless emptiness, my dearest James?

I miss you Xiaoyang. I love you baby.