Showing posts with label Love ones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love ones. Show all posts

People whom I followed closely on social media, I feel like I know them on a personal level, just because I stalk their penned down thoughts. I'm nosy, but I genuinely want to know what happened, whose hearts got broken, whose wounds were ripped apart, whose love didn't get reciprocated, whose concern got shoved aside, whose tears were wasted on wet pillows. I yearn to know not because I want to be judgmental & start sticking my nose into who's right and who's wrong. I just wish to understand someone else's love story.

Love hits some like a hurricane, left some with an empty and broken soul. It has the ability to bring out the best and worst of someone. A feeling so powerful, I used to think it will only happen once. But having read other's love stories, it has taught me otherwise. I could list down a long list of precious lessons their stories have widened my narrow perspective. Which is why I wish to know.

Because I don't wish to be complacent when it comes to love. When you think you know certain aspects of life, you tend to appear more narrow minded because you think you know it all but there are so many things to be chanced upon, to be learnt, to be understood. So here I am, a nosy individual, embarking on a path to understand love so that I'll always be a giver to my love ones, not a taker.

On our way back to SG after dealing with the closure of losing another family member in a year. Then a loud BUMP. Followed by my loud screaming. And the thought of losing my love ones in just that split second. Swiftly, all that happened. 

I remembered looking towards my right to ensure he is okay before turning to check on them. They are safe and sound. 

Few hours later after the making of statements, that split second thought finally registered and I broke down. Fears surrounded my tears. Fear of us leaving our parents all at once if the accident took place just few seconds later, then the car would have been hit on the side and that would most likely send the car flying off to a distance. Fear of all of them leaving me alone. 

I'm traumatized. By the accident for sure. But more by my reinforced belief that life is so fragile; my love ones may not be with me the very next minute. I've lost 3 in just a year. My tired heart is still trying its best to heal and mend its broken shade. 

I'll remember this day. To remember to always cherish them while they are still close to me.

I'm not afraid of being too little for you. What I'm afraid is will I ever be too much for you. Too much of pessimism during my lows. Or just too much of optimism during my highs. Too much of the intense expectations of us, especially of how adorable our future babies are, of how enjoyable our standard of life would be. Too much of annoying petty questions like do you love me, am I the most beautiful woman to you when I clearly know what your answers will be. Too much of nagging as if that would make me more attractive towards you. And so and so...

I never want to be too much for you, for my love ones.

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. 
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.
Fumbling through my own sequel of thoughts at work, I discovered upon an important note-to-self. Why have I always been so fearful of the death of my love ones? So fearful and aching within. 

Genuinely, I thought it's attributed to my selflessness for them, fearing of the unknown that may happen to them/their souls. Unconsciously, we prefer to think the better of our self, that we may be greater than just being occupied with our own well being. But no, my discovery proved me terribly wrong. 

I'm contrary to selfless - I don't fear for what may happen to my love ones when they're gone, I fear for myself. Of what may be left of me, of how am I supposed to move on happily with a significant part of me gone along with their souls. How can I deal with a different me then? 

It still boils down to 'I', 'me'. This outrageously selfish side of me I've came to realize today. To think I actually believed I was selfless.
How many months have passed since the last time I was here? I've not lost track of time, merely too occupied with the ticking clock. 
And too occupied with my immense pride. 

No, not only male has that pride and ego shit. If it's scientifically proven that only male has it, then I must be a male. How difficult it is to drop your pride and ego to admit you're in the wrong? For me, it IS difficult and I casually associate it to my "princess" attitude. C'mon, who am I kidding to even label this unlikable and juvenile attitude to "princess" when fairy tale is clearly a conjured up space. Nothing to do with being a princess or not, I am just being me, this immature side of me. 

I don't throw around the word sorry easily. It is a good thing if you look at it from this angle - I'm not that person who says sorry just to avoid any argument when I don't mean it from the bottom of my heart. But the reason I don't utter sorry is simply attributed to my highly held pride and ego. 

A night's sleep is therapeutic indeed. It wakes me up, non-literally. 
A wake up call. 
And I hope it's never too late. Because who knows when who will be tired of dealing with my shit and decide to make a move. 

People may say I've changed him, but the changes I've undergone because of him... I'm seeing a better me, for him and the ones who love me and I don't know how long I'd take to realize that I need to change if I was not with him. 

Sorry.
Sorry for doubting you. That's the last thing you deserve from me when you've never doubted me even when people around you said the worst of that me who was locking hands with someone else. 
Sorry for letting emotions get the better of my reasoning skill.
Sorry for not saying sorry earlier.
I'm learning to, as you can see. 
Bro's Graduation Fashion Runway: 28 May 2014




























Work has occupied my weekdays and weekends are meant for time away from the screen. It's agonizing enough for my eyes to be facing the desktop at work from 9-6 on Mon-Fri. But this graduation fashion ceremony of my bro has never left my mind and I'll definitely have to share it with everyone (if there is in fact anyone) who is a reader of my humble space. The air of pride still surrounds me now whenever I get reminded of my bro's talent. I pray with all my heart that he'll be at his healthiest. Same for my family and my love ones. 
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

Abrupt end
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. 


Ever since you haven't been feeling well, the first thing I'd do when I woke up is to check on you, to check if you were still breathing. Then one day, you stopped. I touched you gently afraid of waking you up, there was no reaction. I felt for the breathing movements but to no traces of them. I looked at your wide opened eyes and slowly reached to touch them, no reaction. I was afraid to pick you up, afraid that you were in fact just in a deep sleep & I'd wake you up. In denial. That's what I'm still going through now. I spent the entire 12May14 having you by my side, secretly wishing miracle would work on you & that you'd wake up all of a sudden. But you didn't, and my heart left with you too. 

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. 

That empty space where your house used to be has left the same vacant space in my heart. Tears well up in my eyes every single day when I find it difficult to suppress & hide those feelings. I lost count of the times I did this.  

Every corner of the house, every object, remind me of you, of us. The fridge where your fav long beans is. The basin where I bathed you. The specific corners you love to lie at when you were out for a walk. Your shampoo in the basket. The sofa and my bed where you spent your last moments on. Your towel which I still fetch for it to draw in a long breath, taking in my fav scent. The sound of mopping of floors which scares you. The sound of thunders which reminds me of how I used to check on you to see if you were intimidated but you were always just chilling in your house.

Even if there's no smell or sound or sight to remind me of you, this one thing will always bring my thoughts back to you: my heartache. 

Then there's your ashes kept in a white princessy urn. Yes, your ashes. Despite seeing it every day, I still wish for you to be back to me. I hope you do one day. Come back to me in any form, just let me know you're happy & healthy. 




I've always love crossing the borders to Msia, especially when it's a visit to my grandma's house. This time round, I love it more because Redbull finally decided to tag along just to make me happier. After this trip, I grew greedier, secretly wishing he'd go with my family & I every time. But well, of course I'm not going to constantly pester him to go, it must be according to his own wishes that would make the trip meaningful.

Anyway, due to Qing Ming Jie, everyone was making their way to Msia so we were stuck in the traffic for more than an hour or so. But, the journey was more tolerable because of the companion and random conversations accompanied by loud roars of monstrous laughter. 

Yeap, booked a private car for the 6 of us.

Lying on his flabby arms while watching the never-ending line of vehicles.

'No honking' sign which was ignored blatantly right at the custom's authorities' faces; all the impatient motorcyclists summoned all their energy to honk with all their might until the authorities opened another lane for them to pass through. 
Talk about teamwork. 

This faceless lone ranger.

Night time must-do activity is to visit the pasar malam for all the goodies. We ate non-stop the moment we embarked on the trail of food. Practically non-stop. We kept our eyes affixed to the two rows of stalls, hurling 'STOP' to the rest of us whenever any one of us saw something we wanted to eat.
 Beancurd, cheese fries, ice-kachang, peanut mochi, fried chicken, fish cake drenched with sweet chili, taiwan chicken bun, fried sweet potato balls, carrot-cake, cheese tofu tarts...

The amount of calories gained that night.

This is the first time we saw this stall, must be new bird. RM7 for a generous portion. 

Right after dinner was a search for Redbull's crabs. Spent close to 40 mins searching for his crabs, we all grew restless & tired. But at the very least, the crabs we found were satisfactory, ELSE...

Too little time to eat & shop. It'd be better if we've stayed till Sunday night instead of heading back to SG right after sao mu the next morning. Well, at least we had a sumptuous breakfast consisting of nice dim sum & dried kousong mee before letting the heat consumed us during sao mu. 

When you grow genuinely together as one, you find yourself compromising (we said to accompany each other for sao mu on every alternate year. Soon, it'll have to be arranging visiting during CNY), changing, setting goals together with another half. I always say I'm bless and don't ever doubt me when I say so. I may say "I'm tired of this" or somewhere along those lines when we get into a huge argument. But saying that doesn't mean I retract all my feelings towards how I've always feel, I'm just directing "I'm tired" towards that moment during the argument. 

Anyway, here's my gross looking heels after the foot mask. The process may be displeasing to the eyes, but the outcome is what's worth it. 

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