low days

There’s always ways to find out where your old classmates have gone. The little kids you used to play with in the sandbox? You’ll probably meet them whilst walking around in Mid Valley some crowded Saturday. Ex-es can be sniffed out and spoken to, relationships can be mended. Bridges, though burnt, can always be replaced, somehow.

As long as the people you’re looking for, the people you miss are still there. I’ve never felt as low as I do today every since I got back to KL about 2 weeks ago. I’ve got no more tears left to shed, probably because my reserve was small to begin with, but also because this grief isn’t the kind which resolves after a good bout of crying. This grief is unending, unquenchable. I don’t see a way out of this now, I don’t think I ever will. Some wounds don’t heal.

I don’t need your advice on how I should do things, you brought me up well enough to be able to tell the difference between what you’d see as right and what you’d see as wrong. I don’t need the security of an adult watching over me like you did. All I want is to be able to talk to you. I want to tell you how my day was.

the bald and the average looking

Even though I have no hair, I just got me a haircut. I'm dead set on keeping my hair short. I've been called 'sexy' more times in the past week than I have in my entire life; enough reason to keep my hair like it is - very very short.

When told of my decision to stay pseudo-bald, my mother wasn't particularly pleased. She said that it would serve as a reminder to not only myself, but everyone around me of his passing. I was adamant. I like being bald: there's no need to worry about what my hair looks like when I get up in the morning, I spend that much less on shampoo and I get attractive women rubbing my head all through the day (without me offering to pay them).

If my dad could see me now (i'll happily assume that he can, thanks), he'd flip. He never approved of my short hair and used to squeal with delight (almost) when I returned home with hair long, but with my heart set on getting it cut. He thought that the long hair made me look more 'handsome' and that by keeping it short, I spent way too much money on haircuts and looked like I was mourning the loss of something.

I kinda am. It's a reminder, and I don't mind being reminded. I don't want to forget.



Now call me sexy.

what i need

to get my life back on track is not what i have right now. What I have right now is heaps of time with my own thoughts, time to piece together every signle event that has taken place and try to make some sense out of it. Time to overcome my grief and convince myself that life is still in fact worth living, contrary to my current belief that at the end of the day it doesn't add up, and life isn't worht the effort. Time to take things slowly, to heal before i don my aromour once again to face the world. I don't need this time.

What i do need is a dive right back into how my life used to be. Deadlines, the pressure of having to perform, the rushing, the 6 hours of sleep a day. I don't want all this time that I have. Judging by where I am right now, I should be immersing myself in prayer, leaving all my fears and worries at the feet of God and convincing myself that He will take care of everything, that he will make it all okay.

The problem here would be the fact that I don't know where I've left my faith. 10 weeks of hoping that He will shower his grace, that He won't let us down brought me this: close to 30 days of grief, close to 30 days of unfathomable grief and quite possibly a lifetime of unanswered questions and an insatiable sense of longing.

We've had our faith come to us easy. We've never had our faith tested as it is being tested now. A side of me knows that to blame God would be useless, and thus I choose not to blame him. Cancer is a blameless crime, in most cases at least. But what if your father never smoked once in his life but had to die of lung cancer? Isn't there anyone to blame? Shoudln't He give me the answers I seek? Is there any way that i will EVER make sense of this? I seek, and yet I do not find.

What I need is not something to believe in. What I need is not the time to develop my belief in something either. What i need, is to get back to the wheel, and wrest myself into living life again.

For the first time in my life, I'm afraid.

hard truths

I was going to blog about how hard it is to come to terms with the fact that I've lost a parent. I can't seem to put my thoughts into words, I can't seem to get me thoughts in order. This problem isn't restricted to this blog post alone, but to the whole experience as well. 22 days later and it still hasn't hit me like I thought it would, it's far too much to stomach.

when terms and conditions do not apply

Taken from a post i wrote on the 20th of April 2006:

'That's the problem with you, you're always in a rush,' he says

When i get stressed enough that i'm convinced that there's no more room on my plate, that the world is falling down around me ears, i call my dad. There isn't at actualy reason behind it, it's almost reflexive, and 30 seconds into the conversation i am reminded that there really isn't a point to calling him seeking comfort. My dad can be unbelievably optimisctic, and i'm a pessimistic bitch. So for the 15 minute or so conversation, we'll be at loggerheads about how life isn't made up of good events, and shit can happen (he says shit happens, but you'll be fine at the end of it all), i say that maybe, just maybe, god (or the powers that be, whatever your inclinations) may let us down (he says that He never lets us down). You get the drift, it's like a tennis match. Backforthbackforth for 15 minutes.

Yet somehow, at the end of what is supposed to be a draining conversation, I feel ready to put my pants back on and face the world. I'm attributing it to the fact that regardless of when I call my dad, even if i'm hitting 30 and desperate, his advice to me will still be the same. That kind of constancy is hard to find. And when you do find it, it's the best possible reminder that all is well with the world. When you can go running back and realize that some things stay right where you leave them. As long as my father keeps dispensing advice that i'll never listen to in entirety, i'll be fine. I love my dad.

You accomplished so much in so little time. Looking back, it seems like you were the one who was in a rush Pa.

I miss you.

that's all

I'm so troubled i'm incoherent. Hence, I shall blog no more. Not now, not in the near future and quite possibly, not ever. Nothing to see here, move along.

a place in the sun

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