J's tongue cancer has reached its final stage. He hums and picks up a pen to write down his homeless life.

J was at first puzzled by my presence. He waved his hands around and tried to tell me something, his mouth making humming sounds, but I just kept on explaining to him why I was there.

His tongue cancer was in its terminal stage. I can only imagine what his now garbled voice originally sounded like. I was lucky that his nimble fingers and his willingness to share his experience allowed us to communicate through written words.

"Don't be like me. I didn't take the time to be good to my parents. It wasn't until I was dying that I realized I should be more respectful to them..."

"I want to tell my story, so that everyone will realize that they should be nice to their parents before it's too late!"

J personally wrote down all the details of his thirty-nine years of life, and he ended it with the word "idiot."

Wandering aimlessly

Seven years ago, J's wife suddenly left him, for many reasons. This was a huge blow to him. He felt that his life was meaningless, and he did not even want to continue in the job he had held for more than ten years. He simply wandered around aimlessly.

He used to write letters to his family in southern Taiwan, but after his wife left him he stopped writing. His parents were so worried that they even put an ad in the newspaper looking for him. Seven years later they finally met again, but only in time for a permanent separation.

His homeless life led him to different towns and cities around northern Taiwan. A board, a blanket, a park, an underpass or a temple was all he needed to sleep.

Two or three days a month, he did odd jobs like washing windows and washrooms. His savings were completely drained by his way of life, so he regularly accepted his three meals from others.

On the first and fifteenth days of every lunar month, when the temples held religious ceremonies and prepared food for worshippers, he would be there to enjoy a meal. Whenever anyone had a wedding banquet, he and his friends would also sneak in while everyone was busy.

"When the banquet was halfway through, waiters and waitresses would always be very busy and pay no attention to us. But to prevent anyone from noticing us, we never took too much food." When J had written about this clever stratagem, he smiled sheepishly.

Sometimes, his other homeless friends would also share meals and wine, and together they would drink, eat, sleep, fight... In short, they lived a free life. "When we didn't have any money, we simply drank water," he wrote optimistically.

A few months left

Last September, the cancer cells started to act up. J again got a job for money to treat his illness.

In March this year, it was diagnosed that he was in the final stage of tongue cancer. Shocked at the news, he suddenly thought, "What about my parents?" He had three to six months left. It seemed a bit too late to start practicing filial piety.

He once read an article about the body donation drive for the Tzu Chi medical school, so in early April he went to the Heart Lotus Ward, the palliative care ward at Tzu Chi Hospital in Hualien, and expressed his willingness to donate his body after his death.

"I don't want my parents to worry about my funeral," he wrote, his regret showing clearly on his face. "I'm choosing to do this because I want to give my parents the merits I'll get from donating my body."

"I begged them to forgive me for not doing my duties as a son." J was eager to see his aging parents again, but at the same time he did not want to burden them with having to care for him. He did not know what to do.

The body donation card required the signature of a family member, so volunteers and social workers contacted his family. The following day, his father, brother and other family members rushed to the Heart Lotus Ward to visit him. He was delighted to see them.

He kneeled down before his father and repented his carelessness and irresponsibility. He also begged his father to allow him to donate his body. No one in the family really liked the idea [Chinese traditionally believe that a person must be buried whole], but they still respected his decision.

"He lost contact with us in the past, but he was healthy and was able to take care of himself. Now he's sick, and we'll support him no matter what. He's one of us and we won't hate him because of the past." His younger brother's sincere, loving remarks moved J to tears.

A tender sprout

"He voluntarily helps us with many things," observed Sister Lien Shu-mei, a volunteer at the Heart Lotus Ward. "He places wheelchairs in order or cooks delicious food for others. And he doesn't mind talking about himself."

At the Heart Lotus Ward, J voluntarily helps to wash and take care of other patients. During Tzu Chi's thirty-third anniversary celebrations, he helped push patients' wheelchairs to various activities. When he first came, he saw that wheelchairs outside the hospital lobby were always scattered around, so now he arranges the wheelchairs in orderly rows five times a day.

"If you just think about it but don't actually do anything, it's useless. I don't have much time left, but I still have to do my best. Since I can move around, I like to help. I don't want to be a flat ball." This was a complete change in his attitude from before. He said he has been "recycled" by Tzu Chi.

One time, Dr. Hsu Li-an, director of the Heart Lotus Ward, asked J if he wanted to plant vegetables in the hospital garden, and he agreed at once. Less than a week after the seeds were planted, green sprouts appeared. His eyes sparkled as he wrote, "a sense of accomplishment."

"I hope someday I can share the vegetables I planted with everyone and I can say good-bye to you all. And I hope I can return as a Tzu Chi member in my next life." A pure nature as tender as the sprouts has already taken root in J's heart.