Passing Life

In... DEEP... GRIEF. Beneath the strong exterior, I'm a lump of disintegrated sand.

It's been exactly 2 months since mum's gone. But really, the pain is still as fresh, and as deep as when it had just happened. Or even fresher... deeper. It is impossible to spend a day without thinking about her. EVERYTHING triggers something... whether it's the waft from homecooked dishes from her self-proclaimed "competitor" below, the hellos from our friendly neighbour-maid hanging clothes next door, the backview of the old aunty whom she religiously gave vegetables to next block, the fruits she'd scrutinize & poke at in the market fruit stalls, the cheap loose-cut culottes she'd buy from the small heartland shops, everything... in the house, out of the house, everywhere. Is her.

This is going to be difficult. ReALLy DiFfICuLT. The suddeness of it all makes it very tragic. very difficult to accept. and move on. If I had the chance to do everything just one more time with her, perhaps it would have been easier for me. But then again, if I have the say, I'd want to do everything not just once, but twice, but thrice, and more and more times all over again with her... forgive my greed... maybe, just let me bring her out to eat at the "la mian" place once more, let me buy vegetarian pizza for her once more, let me help her dye her hair once more, cut her toenails for her once more, and let her make a trip to the U.S to see her beloved little brother once more...

My dad is not one who verbalizes his feelings. He is not one who knows how to console. He suffers, in silence. And in turn, he leaves others to suffer, in silence.

I'm brought up to be strong and independent. Many are proud of me this way. My friends, teachers, colleagues, relatives and everyone else believe I can make it through this, just give me time. But hell... I've flirted with the thought. Until the day i find a new direction, i'm a goner.