Choices

It's the 2nd weekend of the 7th month of the year. I'd like to think that after 2 years, I have learnt to brace myself for the silence that rings louder than 10 church bells peeling away simultaneously.

There is nothing particularly special for this said weekend of this month, except that it is the time that you steal yourself away from everyone else to go and reflect. Or rather, you call it reflection, I call it self-flagellation. All done under some tree, in some cemetery up north, looking over some small hill.

And one can't help but wonder - how long must it be, before you can actually come to this weekend, without any sense of remorse or regret? Has time not passed sufficiently for you to come to a point of realisation that no - you did not let her down, you're doing alright in her eyes and yes, she will still be proud of you and who you are today?

Many things have changed. And yet, some things remain the same.

The human life is made up of choices.
Yes or no. In or out. Up or down.
And then there are the choices that matter.
Love or hate. To be a hero or to be a coward.
To fight or to give in.
To live. Or die.
Live or die.
That's the important choice.
And it's not always in our hands.

I can tell you this in all the ways I can think of, and using all the words I know. Yet, it will come to nothing if you do not choose to let go of the regret and live in the pride of the joy you had been.

It is the 2nd weekend of the 7th month of the year. It is the weekend where you delayed returning home and hence missed saying goodbye to your mum before she left this world. I hope this year, you only had good things to tell her and that it ended with you telling you're okay and really knowing in your heart that you are.