♒Åℚ∪Åℜ│⊔S ♒

Yes, it is way more than what it says on the surface. In fact, it is nothing near that for me. 

Whenever I come across articles or overhear conversations about how the millennials seek for more work life balance, my insides cringe. Doesn't this imply that younger generations simply want more freedom, that we want to play as hard as we work, that we can't handle too much workload?

For me, not any one of those reasons is valid.

It has nothing to do with the different generations, young or old.

As much as I strive my best to contribute to the company, to the society, I don't want to leave myself with regret and guilt. Time, unlike money or water, can't be saved or recycled. With each passing day, I'll never have an answer to "Is today my last day alive?", "Is this week my last week alive?", or even "Is this year my last year alive?" Point is I've absolutely no idea when would be the last day I bid goodbye forever to my family. It could be tomorrow, next week, next month or many years later. God knows. No, it should be no one knows. 

Every morning from the moment I wake up, I'm plagued with making decisions, trivial or major. If I decide to slog my guts out for work and leave so little time for my family, what if today was my last day alive? Would I rejoice that I've worked so hard or would I regret that I could have spent more time with the people I love?

I don't wish for when that day arrives, I find myself harboring the second thought.

24 June 2016; the day you left.

From the moment I received the phone call at 4 p.m in my office till the day of your cremation, feelings were bottled up, countless urges to let loose of my emotion were suppressed. In denial of how much I couldn't bear for you to leave, I overwhelmed myself with whispering and whimpering of "She's rid of all pain & suffering", "She's in Heaven" that only I could hear. 

I remembered I've once documented my realisation here of how selfish I am to be fearful of the death of my love ones. I'm selfish because I am afraid of what's to become/left of me when a significant part of me is gone with their departure. 

This time round, I tried my best to be selfless, to think of the best of your departure for you instead of the worst of your departure for me. So I suppressed, so I showered myself with heavenly consoles instead of loud warm tears. 

The act that I put up was all good until I woke up from a nap after 'everything' was settled. Or was it? And will it? 

Staring at the boring blank space with hubs in the background asking what's for dinner, I got myself half dressed before sitting at the edge of the bed and continued with the aimless staring. Hubs got fed up because his presence was ignored, his repeated question of what do I want for dinner was left unanswered, so he yelled instead of asked. Then I broke down. Not because he got mad at me but because reality finally hit me hard.

I cried so hard my tears dried up yet the wallows couldn't stop. I was still selfish. I didn't want you to leave. Even though for years you couldn't remember me, I was happy and contented being able to see you, touch you, feed you, baby cradled you and speak to you in your own language. Now your departure rids me of all these, the precious minimal things that I could still do with the amnesic you. 

Grandma, you left not remembering who am I but I will always remember all my 25 years with you.

In just 12 more days, I will be the legal wife of the man who has been loving me unconditionally from the start, even when I haven't then.

I feel differently the same, should this make any sense. 7 years of relationship cum partnership, yet we knew each other 10 years ago, became close friends 9 years ago. We can practically proclaim "I've known her/him for almost half my life". Thus becoming legal spouses is merely a change to the 'official' status, just a paper ceremony. This way, everything remains. Yet, there are going to be so many upcoming phases and 'life' projects awaiting us - these are different tastes of life to be experienced. 

Building our love nest is going to be exciting, temporarily casting aside the months of hard works to be done which have already began. The end product is definitely going to be worthwhile, we are certain.

Moving out physically from my comfort home I've been with since birth, I'm already having tearful thoughts and moments now and then. So much emotional adaptations to make. Not coming back to my heroine welcoming me home, saying she knows it's me just by the sound of my footsteps with my hero giving his classic slight smirk to her quirky comment. Not coming back to my siblings ordering food delivery and asking whether to count me in. Not coming back to my parents having their eyes glued to HK/Korean drama series and debating over their differing predictions of the next scene. Not coming back to my brother cooking maggie mee and stealing a few mouths from his bowl without him ever complaining. Not coming back to the bed my siz and I share till today and having random conversations, discussions, gossips till either of us falls asleep. So many many more. Some may be embarrassed to admit or even mention how attached they are to their family. Not me. I proudly declare how emotionally and physically attached I am to my most precious family, Just like the wordings on my back dictate, "My family is beautiful because they make me believe that I am, by showing me how worthy I am to be loved, and because of them, I'm being nurtured to love." How to not be deeply attached to parts of your own soul? 

Fortunate thing is our own nest is still considered near to my comfort home so I'll still be able to get my healthy dose of emotional pill. 

Each love journey to its own, and I pray for all love to be equal in the eyes of all. No love is inferior. No love should be disregarded. No love should be measured by gender, race, nationality. Love doesn't have to be further complicated by the narrow mindsets of others, it is beautiful, whether it is between the same or different gender/race/nationality. He loves her for her. He loves him for him. So why should gender come into the picture? 

I'm digressing. It's just that, I want him to be happy too. 

Life for me, I wouldn't say it has been a breeze but since my last post, there hasn't been any major setback/hiccup that has occurred to me and for that, let me boast and spread my genuine happiness. 

1 Nov 2015: our 7th anniversary and he puts a ring on me. The proposal was a great success because I was so taken aback by the surprise that I screamed, laughed, cried altogether. The hysterical me obviously didn't manage to keep my composure (not that I was attempting to anyway) despite all the different cameras aiming at me. With our beloved families and close friends there to witness this significant moment, I have nothing more to ask for. 

  

His speech was nothing close to cliche, it was close to his heart, close to mine. I find myself replaying his speech in my head while eyeing on the beautiful customized ring on my finger. 

 

Another moment leading me into another phase of my life. 

They say time heals, I tried to convince myself into believing it too. I was really believing, or so I thought. So I thought facing my fear is the best and bravest way to heal along with time. So I did. I (tried to) faced my fear, the fear of having to relive all the past memories with you knowing new memories will never be created again. 

My pace towards that shop was hesitant, undoubtedly. But I seemed to have believed that time has healed me. My feet you once loved to lie on brought me into the shop, to a similar glass framed container where I first laid my eyes on you. She/he isn't you, but looks exactly like you. That tri-colored soft looking fur, that black patched eye which led to us calling you Lavigne, and that adorable round butt. 

Tears filled with sadness blurred my vision gradually as I tried to hold back. "This is not you, not you, not you." I told myself, in silly hopes of stopping those tears. Then it hit me, this is why I am still not healed. Because I know this is not you, because I know there will never be a guinea pig who is you, or be like you, because I know I'll never have you back in my life again.

I left the shop hastily through the back door, wanting no one to intrude between us, even during my moment of grieving for you.

The howling of his mother and the pounding knocks on his room's door at 7 in the morning jolted me up from his bed immediately. I sprang up from the bed, to be specific. 

It was like an unexpectedly expected news - her departure. Still, nothing could prepare us for the loss of her, despite all the signs over the past month.

Looking at her still and cold body on the bed, I placed my hand over her cupped and wrinkled hands gently, in fear of waking her up. "She's sleeping", that was what we exchanged amongst ourselves, because uttering that word sounded too distant, too harsh. But that is how reality presents itself at times, isn't it? Especially at a time like this. 

No more witnessing of that cheeky slight smile and winking of her eyes directed at me whenever her favorite grandson teases any one in the family or cracks a joke only she appreciates the most. No more hearing her childlike complaints.

For our own comfort, even if it helps just a little, we tell ourselves this is a blessing for a kind angel like her. Being a devotee, she must be in heaven with Jesus and Mary now, where there should be no more pain and suffering. For all these years, her weakening body has undergone tremendous pain, with grandpa shouldering her suffering and taking care of her every need which was also slowly depleting his energy. 

Clock still ticks, but the livings will always mourn and grieve for the dead. The vacant look in grandpa's red eyes as he wanders off alone in his slow pace, it reminds me how all of our sadness pales in comparison with his. We may have lost a mother/grandmother, he has lost his lifetime partner, his confiding best friend, his soul companion.

Money is the factor, for now, for my hesitancy now. 

With the limited funds, I'd rather prioritize our dream house and photo shoot over a wedding banquet. The both of us only get to go through this once, this being our very own private affair. So why do families and relatives get to decide they have a say in what belongs to us? You've your own marriages (going to have one), likewise for us, this is our own too. How would you like it if we poke our nose around your private affairs? We do love our families, but that doesn't mean we like them to decide whether we should hold a wedding banquet or not. It is our own choice, a choice that belongs to the couple. 

Spending on our dream cozy house and photo shoot is different. It signifies the intimacy of the couple since both involves just them alone. Wedding banquet involves literally everyone, which I'm not detesting. Just that if I were to prioritize (which I need to since money isn't abundant for us), I will want to focus on renovating our own love nest and once in a lifetime photo shoot, first.

I smell fear. Fearful of what I'm going to undergo, again: the departure of someone I hold dear. She's not my biological grandma, we may not have the same blood flowing through us, but our relationship is more than the mere superficial "blood is thicker than water" label. 

For so many moments that I wish you can stay, the many other moments of witnessing your pain and suffering set me pondering whether I am selfish to secretly wish you can be here to stay, to witness your grandson and I tying the knots and bearing your beloved grandchildren. When you're old and fragile withstanding all the pain, is time really a luxury for you or is it just prolonging your pain? 

It's foolish for me to wish for forever, but I do wish for the time you have with us, it can be filled with lesser pain. 

//

It has been more than a year since you left. I still cry and wallow in pity when I allow myself to dive deeper into the bottomless ocean of thoughts and memories of you. Work has been a real helpful deviation of these thoughts. What's not making this heartache better is the guilt that has never faded with time. What if it was me who didn't take enough care of you? What if I discovered you were ill earlier? 

Reunite with me more often; in our dreams we meet.

For the past week, I have decided on something personal and working on it ever since. It's a big baby step, for me. I snapped myself right into my thoughts, got intertwined in them, then I thought I had to act on what was once just my dream.

I hope I would be able to say it someday. When that day comes, I'll scream my lungs out and let the whole world know about it. For the time being, it's just it with my family, the most supportive and positive vibes I need during this period.

Every night right before falling into slumber is a living nightmare for me. The heart throbbing aches and silent tears that come so naturally when my thoughts are all of you. Our memories together replay themselves so vividly in my mind and no, I can't pull off a smile being thankful for the existence of these memories, instead all I do is to dwell on how you are no longer here with me to create new memories. It has been 2 months and 14 days since you went to Heaven, and here I am with a bleeding heart wishing you were still right here with me.

 I want to feel your fur again. I want to smell my favorite scent again. I want to see you munch on your favorite long beans vigorously again. I want to see your blur face again. I want to hear the sound of you drinking water again. I just want to wake up and go to sleep to the sight and touch of you again. 

Bro's Graduation Fashion Runway: 28 May 2014

Whoever said dreams are the opposite of realities is a liar. I dreamt of you again, Princess. In my dreams, you were sick. So fragile. But, you recovered. In reality? No, you didn't.

 

Yet another day filled with love. Some see it as a specific day to pamper the most important woman in their life, some see it as just an ordinary day where every second is merely just a tick on the clock, some feel that it’s a day to be coerced or pressurized into buying/making a gift for that woman. Well, it should be just an ordinary day in the sense that every day should be a day filled with endless gratitude and love showered upon the woman, upon the people whom you love. My siz and I each prepared a dessert for our Heroine who has a sweet tooth. She made strawberry truffles while I made coconut & pandan layered kueh. 

Simple dinner at The Grandma’s Kitchen, a relatively new dining place. The food is good, to the point that Heroine praised that it tastes better than her cooking which is the FIRST time, so that says it all. 

My fav KL hokkien mee. 

CKT

Curry chicken

Salted egg prawn

Steamed white chicken

Beef rendang

Spinach beancurd with mushroom

Exactly one week since you've left and this is the first time you came back to me in my dreams. The dream reflected the reality: in it, you've left too. But you came back to us every single night without fail, running around in the house being your usual active & curious self, occasionally climbing onto my legs like you did in the past. I could touch and feel you in my dreams. That virtual reality... I could almost feel you, almost. 

If there's to be any day when I speak of you any less, it doesn't mean I'm thinking less of you because I'll never do, it just means I'm scrambling for better ways to deal with your loss. And I'm failing miserably, for now. 

Back to where it makes me sick to my stomach, again. Seeing/knowing the minute respect people give to their parents according to their temperament, always makes me cringe. I swallowed my opinions, when I'm not even one who does, just to put a halt to my outburst of temper.

What's the point of being able to sing along to your favorite songs, to laugh at your favorite variety shows/dramas, to download (illegally) movies/songs from your laptop when you don't even give the due respect to the ones who paid for the monthly Ethernet subscription fee? 

What's the point of being able to doze off on your bed, hang the new clothes that you bought in your closet when you don't even give the due respect to the ones who provide this roof over your head? 

What's the point of knowing to have the most basic politeness towards those in the customer service line when you don't even shower such fundamental courtesy to your own parents? 

What's the point of growing up healthily when you don't even give the due respect to the ones who gave you this life? 

They're hitting their fifties while we're just about to step into adulthood. The time they've spent raising us up, the hardship they're going through just to ensure we've a comfortable & stable roof over our heads. Sure we don't live luxuriously, but at least we don't have to worry about food & accommodation. They slog their guts out for us. Their work is purely physical. Imagine you at their age, having going through such physical labor for more than half of your life, imagine the toll it does to your physique. If all these aren't worth the biggest respect they deserve, I don't know what is. 

We all know life has an expiry date, we just don't know when that is and it's because of this uncertainty coupled with the limited lifespan that should make us fear and in turn cherish them when they're still able to see us. What if you wake up one day to find them gone? What if you wake up one day to your own parents who don't recognize who you are? Just what if? By then, it'd all be too late. Too late for you to reciprocate to them in ways they best deserve. 

April Fools was the day when I fooled my family with my brilliant cooking skills. Alright, I didn't fool them, I really did whip up a korean meal for my siz's sweet 16th. Not self-proclaiming I did a fantastic job, but I do think I deserve a pat on my back, at least no one spitted out anything or suffered from a stomachache. That alone should be regarded as an achievement for a first-timer who learnt the ropes from online recipes, right?