Upon hearing that, my tears fell without any reason. In Kiribati, when big storms come, people will gather in their houses and wrap themselves together with their families, “so that if they’re taken away by the storm and the tide, they’d be taken away together.” It is about a Pacific country named Kiribati. Our first session together during EACLC#2 was storytelling. However, within the first few lines she said when we first met, I was deeply touched and moved by this tender lady. That weird feeling of hollowness and heaviness was pretty much what I’ve been experiencing in those usual days, just even stronger and more tormenting.Īctually, my physical interactions with the facilitator nearly stayed within those five days during EACLC#2. It was as if somebody carved a hole in my chest, and tons and tons of grief flooded into the hole.
In the crowded MRT car of Taipei city, I pulled the strap with one hand and covered my eyes with another, failing to stop my tears from seeping out from the gaps between my fingers. What struck my eyes were tens of posts on her wall, all ending with RILs and RIPs. My first instinct was that it was not true to prove that it wasn’t true, I clicked into her profile page at once. Last month (yes, that’s how time flies), I learned from a partner organization’s Facebook post that our facilitator for last years’ East Asia Climate Leadership Camp (EACLC), passed away that morning.
