Run Forrest Run

In a few hours, 2012 will end and a new year will begin. Recalling the words of a close friend, "Nothing ever really ends, does it?" And so, try as I may to think that tomorrow will be different, simply because it is a new year, I know deep down inside that nothing will really have changed.

Bless me Father I have sinned,
I'm not sure where to begin.
I won't name names or where I've been,
But I've been there and back again.

It has been the most tiring and trying year of my entire existence. With barely a month in, I had to bury my grandmother. And in the midst of all that, realise that it was also time to step up - that the next generation was the 'now'. Ready or not, we had to take our turn at the reins. Ready or not, responsibility was thrust upon our shoulders.

No Hail Marys will save me,
You learned to live with memories,
Here, slip this sinner up your sleeve,
Just stay inside until I leave.

It has to be said, this thing called responsibility. I have come to likening it to opening the Pandora's box ~ all sorts of vermin will come running out, scaring the living daylights out of you. And because you know it's Pandora's box, you have to find it in you to go back in and shut it. So that hope remains.

And that is what I will carry with me in moderate amounts into 2013 - HOPE. For have I not had an extra 40 days with my dad? Did his oncologist not give him a mere 2 months to live way back in September? From not knowing if we would see his 64th birthday with him, we ended up celebrating Christmas and the year end in a grand fashion - with the family safe in my lil hole in the sky, singing the 12 days of Christmas in our own individual way.

The hands of time may tick no more
Let darkness fall upon this door
No waves will wash up on this shore
I won the fight but lost the war.

I must say, most days this year, were not easy ones. With less than a handful of people I can call my own, I am walking into the new year feeling a little less for wear. I am run myself ragged, trying to accomplish this, that and again - the other, all at once.

There were roses I have loved
Who've given or have given up
I pushed your patience and my luck

But I stand proud and tall tonight as dusk falls across the KL skyline, as folks make their way into the city to ring in the new year, surrounded by friends and strangers. For while I have been at my worst, I have also been at my best in terms of my own emotional self.

While there can be many moments to recall, I take with me tonight, the memory of biting the bullet and admitting out-loud that I am human. And because I am human, I am capable of feeling love. And because I am capable of feeling love, I am able to once more (after 6 long years), come face-to-face with it and say it out loud.

It wasn't love I didn't trust
It wasn't you, or me, or us
You've shouldered 'ifs', and 'ands', and 'buts'
It's that way ok, I've said too much 

I like to think that it is that honesty and vulnerability that has seen me through this year of near-deaths, disappointments, exhaustion and despair. It is that honesty and vulnerability that has enabled people to catch me when I fell, jumping off balconies to snatch me back from the clutches of hopelessness. 

 

But I've been running, always running
Never had both feet on the floor

And so while tomorrow may be 1st January 2013 and I will need to put a new desk calendar on my desk, I know my road will remain much the same: bumpy and dusty. But if anything this year has taught me, I know that whatever 2013 brings, I will be able to face it with courage, with dignity and with honour. And I will be able to look myself in the mirror 365 days from today and say to myself that "I did the best I could and that was it enough."


To quote my favourite tv show, after 9 years - There's no shame in simply being human. It can be a relief to stop hiding, to accept who you really are. A little self awareness never hurt anyone. Because when you know who you are, it's easier to know what you're about, what you really need.


I've been running, always running
Now I ain't running anymore

2013 - I will not run from you, even though the prospects of you scare the shit out of me.


Happy New Year everyone!
~Not running anymore~

By Jon Bon Jovi

Playing for Keeps

I have been behaving badly the last few months. Of course everyone writes it off to the strain - emotional, physical and financial - that I have been under. But yet, I know that those are no excuse as I continuously push the envelope further from  the center of the table.

And while I can apologise each time I mis-behave, I also know at the back of my head that each person has their hard limits. As I scratch my way through them, sooner or later - they will run out.

To say I am at a precipice would be incorrect. I am no longer on the edge of the cliff, wondering to jump or not to jump. For some strange reason, the decision to jump was made for me. Afterall, was it not said - wasn't this boxed off years ago? *Hmm ~ Did it, without me knowing?*

Maybe it was all waiting for me in the sidelines. And as I made one move after another, slowly but surely with copious amounts of drinking courage, it fell into place. Perhaps that is why I had "jumped" and not knew about it.

And so it comes down to this - how do I behave so that I do not run out of space and end up where I do not want to be?

My parents celebrated their 38th wedding anniversary this week past. 38 years and the recent ones has not been getting any easier. For 10 nights, my mum slept on a dodgy sofa bed alongside my dad as he recuperated in the hospital. For many weeks, my dad put up with my mum's silent fuming as the maggots razed through her consciousness (yes - we have the same maggot infliction!). Yet, on the 38th anniversary, they held hands so tightly as they walked into the hospital for my dad's check up.

I wish I had taken a picture of that moment. But I know for the life of me, I will never forget it. The clasp of his right and her left. The fingers entwined so tightly as she feared him pain from his surgery site and he needing her support to walk back into his "house of horrors".

And I wonder to myself, will I ever get there? And also, how did I end up here? For a product of a healthy married relationship, I sure am broken in so many ways. For am I not sitting here tonight, wondering where has the last 4-something years gone, how did it move forward to where I think it is today, without me seeing it?

I have been told that "putting up" with me is a better deal than "giving up" on me. So I know for a fact that someone out there has hopes that there is a good person in lil ole body. That the soul of this lost one is not that lost at all.

Now I suppose all I need to do on my end is to actually have that same belief in myself.

If only I knew how.

Emptying

It has been a long time since I last entered my thoughts here. Things have been less than smooth - "bumpy" would be a gross understatement.

The silver lining would be that my Dad has one less tumour burden in his body. After months of chasing tails, it was finally done successfully over a week ago.

Today I am mourning the loss of my life position and security. Which is a terrible thing to do when I should be rejoicing the saving of my Dad's life. Bear in mind now - the two are distinct and separate issues. If you cannot separate the two, then you do not know me well.

After so many years of struggles, I am back at square one. Yesterday, I had to tell my child that she has to wait till pay-day to buy a book. Today I am fighting down the urge to ring a close friend out to tea so that I can spill my soul on her shoulder, because I can't afford to pay for tea.

Don't get me wrong - I would not trade my father's life for my bank account balance. That is not my rant, nor my whine. I am just so tired of these responsibilities. I am just so tired of denying my kids.

I am angry. I am frustrated. I am tired. 

I am broken and broke.

For Better or Worse

This week, I have a new perspective on what people say when they make their marriage vows.

I am a runner. I am still a runner. When the going gets tough, I have to sneak away, hide and piece together the pieces, before I can come back and stand beside whoever it is who needs me before I can make good my part of any sort.

Since Dad's diagnosis, I have been itching to run for the hills. And finally, last week, I could in the guise of a work travel. 7 days and night on my own, in gloomy, wet cold England where I had wanted to let the autumn air and leave fall envelope me in its deep, dark embrace.

And so I did. Walking in the rain, staring into space on my endless train rides across the country. And I have returned - refreshed and recharge. Ready to take on come what may.

But as I look around me in my local environment, I cannot help but feel sad for my Mom. For while I can run when I need to and want to, take a hiatus from all this: Mom is stuck where she is. Because she is his wife. She is his partner.

And you know what? As tired as she is, her vows keeps her going and so, she sees no need to run.

And we wonder why I am still on my own - after all this time?

Fifty Shades

I am enraptured in Fifty shades - The Trilogy. And I just realized why... The similarities... The past.... Perhaps not the abuse... But DEFINITELY the hurt.

Oh me! Oh my!

From So Far

I turn 37 this year.

As I sit here and post my thoughts on the year past and the year ahead, I do not feel weighed down by the wonderment: If my parents are proud of me. I know they are.

I placed my last student for the new academic year this morning at 5.46 am - that's79 doctors to be and 10 dentist to come. At this poignant point of life, when grave illness has hit the family in a hard way: I am filled with hope as I recall each of these 79 faces.

A week ago, I sat in despair and cider, wondering where did I go wrong in Year 36 - it was suppose to be bigger and better, ending with a bang so loud, it'll make the New Year's Eve fireworks pale in comparison. And this morning I am exclaiming - Let the Fat Lady Sing!

It's all a question of perception. And not giving in to fear while giving out absolutely to hope!

Hope used to be my bogeyman, my monster in the closet, my bad 4-letter word. But I have come to see, that without it, life is not worth living, not worth my space in the world. Much like love - it'll take your breath away if you allow it too!

And so, as I step into another year of life, feeling extremely grateful for my health, my family, my friends, my work - My Life: I am hopeful.

And because I have that, and God - I know that come what this year brings: I will be fine!

Happy Birthday Me - you've come so far from licking the bottom of the Devil's cauldron!

The World Keeps on Turning

Traffic is moving as it always does on a Monday morning, along the highway, just by my apartment. The backfire of a truck, the sirens of an ambulance and the horn toots of inpatient drivers late for work.

The world keeps on turning....

I have bundles of bags standing by the door - my clothes for the next 3 days as I stay over at my folks, the puke-bucket, wet wipes, boxes of tissue, plastic bags, all in readiness in case Dad feels sick on the way back later today after his 1st chemo run.

The world keeps on turning....

As we prayed together as a family on Friday night, mum had a vision of me, sitting by the cliffs with a storm raging around me. I was apparently sitting still, knees clutched closed to the chest - looking lost, forlorn and alone.

The world keeps on turning....

A colleague from Ireland wrote last week, asking if I would be available to meet her in 2 week as she stops over in her first visit to KL. We have plans for breakfast since I did not think it was appropriate to tell her that I can no longer make plans longer than 5 days ahead.

The world keeps on turning....

I know deep down that while many thinks and believes that today is the start of the road to recovery, I know differently. Today is just the start of one long road. Whether it ends in recovery or it ends in us picking up a suit, shirt and tie for Dad - it remains to be known.

It is not that I do not have faith. It is not that I do not have believe. It is simply because  the world keeps on turning and to ensure that it turns as smoothly as it possibly can, I have to think 10-steps ahead and be on the ready for whatever the turn brings.

The world keeps on turning - Can you blame me then for feeling like I am all alone through it all?

In These Lil Hands

My world has gone upside down, inside out, left and right - all at one go.

Exhaustion. I thought I knew what that meant. But in truth, I did not - right up till now. And I suspect that as time goes by in the near future, I would begin to know that word with deeper insight.

Physically, the body and mind is tired. Tired of travelling close to 1000 km in under 8 days. Tired of researching, reading, digesting and summarising.

But the champion of exhaustion would have to be the emotional state of mind. Of having to be constantly up-beat, slightly non-nonchalant (but not too much now) and well, basically be the complete opposite of what it is really is. For when no one is around, I sit and stare off into space. If I thought I could afford it, it would be done with a bottle of wine in one hand and a carton of smokes in the other.

And apart from this lil box in space, I can only be all that I really truly am when I am with my persons. The one who saw me through all 7 levels of hell - hey, we didn't think there would be an 8th did we? And the one who still remains here, despite having me shatter into a million pieces.

If there is anyone that can save me from self-destructing, it would be them. So in these lil hands of mine, I'm collecting the pieces that have chipped and broken off in the space of the last 1 month. And I am asking you to keep them in a lil box somewhere. And when the time comes, to help me piece me back again.

Please always remind me that through all this, you've got my back.

Past, present & future

Today is the beginning of the future.

How the world changes, at a drop of the hat, a flip of the coin. Instead of waiting for Dad to come out of surgery today, we explored palliative therapies that the oncologist may prescribe come Monday. Instead of focussing on the curative, we are now looking for palliatives.

The whole of today as I drove from one errand to the next, I could not help but recall when I was Daddy's little girl - following him around JB town, getting lunch, picking up his cigarettes from the wholesalers, stopping by church...

What I would give to go back there again... When our world was safe, sound and made sense. When the present was forever and the future so distant it didn't even cross our minds.

I dread asking on Monday, how much time. And in many ways, I really do not want to know. For what is the point of knowing, if only to have dread set in.

If we are set and determined to make the best of life, then truly would knowing how long the future is going to last, going it make any difference?

All I have is the present and that is all that matters.

Winded

My dad was diagnosed with 1st stage renal cancer yesterday. In about 2 weeks' time, he would go from having a pair of kidneys to just having one.

"It suddenly dawned on me, that the time when there is no more fixing to be done, is drawing up really fast," I told Mandy. There is something to be said about saying something out loud - it brings it into shape, it brings it into the present. It makes it real.

At the countless funerals I have been to in the past 3 years, mortality has never struck me as an issue. I have my loose ends tied up and my 'i's dotted, 't's crossed. If my time comes prematurely, I know my children and family would be well taken care of. But I realise that I have been looking at it from a purely financial and material perspective. Sure - both kids would be millionaires then but they would be losing their one and only parent.

When Grandma passed on, my colleague told me that "losing a grandparent is unsettling." She neglected to say that losing a parent would be life-changing. Even the mere thought of it is already sending ripples and waves the size of tsunamis across this small ocean called my brain.

I have come to realise that no matter what age we are, we will never be ready to lose a parent.  It changes you in ways that you never thought possible. As it is now, having spoken to various persons most knowledgeable in this field, I am already filled with remorse. Yes, everyone tells me that I cannot put the blame of this illness at my own door.Yet, if you knew me as in really knew me - you would know that my own door is my first port of calling in the analysis of "How did this happen?!"

And so I will fight - with every ounce of my physical being, with every dime that I have tied to my name. Because I did not fight harder when I should have. As another colleague says: We're in curative stage - so no expenses will be spared, even if I have to up-root everyone to the one place where my faith in medicine and medical miracles is strongest.

My only hope is that, when the time comes - hopefully decades from now - I will not let it go with any regrets of not having done more.

Four big and one small

Ben turns 41 today. He is off celebrating with his pals and by the time I see him next, this day would be long came and gone.

It is a poignant day. Not because this is a contest of who gets the best of his time. And it is really not about today as in the day and date.

Ray died, shortly after his 41st birthday. And I, no one better, knows how short life is... The things he could have done, if he had lived longer.

And that is why today, Ben's 41st birthday is an important one. Because I need him to cross this.. Not just a bit of it, half of it, or most of it. I need him to cross all of this.. And have many more.

I missed out on one lifetime... God, I do not want another snatched out from under me again.

Indulging in Greed

I'm indulging in my sense of greed tonight. I need to get it out of my system before it explodes in the worst possible manner. After all, we need to have acknowledgment before we can have acceptance.

Acceptance that this year you've been stolen right out from under my nose. That in less than 72 hours your birthday will dawn and this year, it would not be with me.

Logic tells me that it is just a birthday. Rationale creeps in with yes, life is short and you love to spread it around.  Memory reminds me that we had Valentine's on top of one of the world's tallest structures this year. YET I cannot help but be greedy.

And I wish with all my might that I am not that bun that comes with the set lunch. I wish that I can stop wanting a bottomless glass. And I try, and try and try. And then I stop and hold my breathe.

I know Thursday will come and go. I will have to at some point exhale. And I know that I will be fine.

Cos if I know you like I think I do - you'll find a way of making it up. In your own silent, silly and nondescript way.

And then I pray that when that day or moment comes, I will have wised up sufficiently to recognise it as it is. Cos this is what it takes to love someone like you.

High Maintenance

I spent the better part of yesterday at the hospital with Mum. There was the follow-up to her GERD treatment as well as seeing a new physician for her chronic hip pain. Of course, to Mum, the key issue was that more than half a grand was spent. 

As the Ambassador said to me not too long ago - we all reach a point where, like it or not, we become high maintenance with our healthcare issues.

I come from the perspective that pain is unnecessary. If money could buy relief and yes - healing, then let it be done. There is no need to hem-haw-and-hee about it. So what if it is a strain on resources? In today's lifestyle of excesses, there is always something that can be done without.

Yet, try as I may to explain thing very simple logic to my ageing-parents and extended family, it frustrates that it seems to fall on deaf ears.

Parents should believe that they have done right by their children and raised them with the core values of life. And be acknowledging that, allow them to provide the best they can.

Take it from me, the grown child - there is nothing more hurtful that a parent can do, then by denying the grown child the opportunity to do that. Yes, you may have one foot already six feet under - but do not leave us with guilt for the rest of our lives.

So if you're high maintenance now - so be it. Sit back and enjoy the ride: after all, even you live only once.

Three Lil Words

We're in the season of TV drama finales. From September to May the year after, we stay glued to our telly screen - same day of the week, week in and out, at the same time. Come hell or high-water: nothing stands in between our soaps and us.

I had written before - if only life and living was as easy as an episode of something: the high, the low, the mystery and the salvation all wrapped up in under 40 minutes. But life is not a schedule in a TV guide... nor does it last just 40 minutes.

One of my all-time favourite soaps is undeniably Grey's Anatomy. For 8 years now I have watched the dark and twisted sisters go through all sorts of drama. At some times of life, you could even say it is almost like watching the mirror into your soul. Yet, even with TV characters - they grow, they evolve. They break, they mend.

Perhaps I have been watching too much of Grey's at one go. Perhaps I forgot for a moment that it is just a show, and not real-life. Or maybe perhaps it was just time.

Words that should have been spoken long ago were finally expelled (and yes, it felt good!). Questions that should have been asked were finally asked.

Do I regret it? I may... tomorrow.. or the day after... I don't know. But that's not important. The important thing is that I said it. I will not go to my grave (or him to his) without never ever hearing what is truly important being said, even just once, out loud.

I have come such a long way. We have come such a long way. And you know what - there's so much more way to travel.

I bared my soul to the still of the night - and I came out of it alright. Maybe it is indeed a sign: Life has changed... Life has moved on - leave the past where it belongs.

Perpetual Flash Backs

The ugly dragon reared it's beastly head once again. Despite everything I have learnt, it takes very little to have me cowering beneath my desk.

I am sick and tired of this; of myself and my past. Oh what i would not give to re-live my life over, just so i do bot have to go thru this perpetual flash-back of falsehood, lies and pain.

I need to cross over my own Tennessee line but I do not know how...

God help me please ...

My Missing Shoe

I had spent the week past in a whirlwind trip of Ireland on business. It was unscheduled and it was rushed. Yet, in between the the rolling countryside and the winding roads, the boardrooms and the hospital rooms, I couldn't help but be very aware that I was traveling with my better half.

I had jokingly said some time back that if this trip had materialised, I had to go it alone - that I needed my space whilst traveling.

It's funny how you do not realise what you need until you do not have it. I needed you very badly on this trip - even if it was just to calm me down at the end of a crazy scheduled day.

I was walking without a one shoe. I do not want to do it again.

April's the Fool

4 years have come and gone... needless to say and as cliche as it may sound: Time has flown by.

This year, I am reflecting how far we have both come and how if I allow it: Life can and has surprised me, taking away my breath with it at the same time.

It's not just the places we've gone together but rather the strides in our communication. One would think that after some years, this would no longer be a problem. Yet, we all know that the first thing to go in most over time is the ability to communicate.

So I am pleased, contented but most importantly - grateful. Grateful for your patience, to have waited this long for this clam to open up. And at the same time, for no longer clamming up yourself.

You have been and continues to be my silver lining, my unexpected blessing, my lifeline. Here's to many more babe!

Lady Month of Balls

March shall go down in history as the month I spent the most time with my girlfriends. In all forms - from someone who knew me from long ago, to someone I share books with and to someone who is also a client.

You can seek the advice of others, surround yourself with trusted advisors.

I suppose in the face of it all - the aftermath of February - I was seeking ways to justify my thoughts, as well as to keep the new ones at bay. But tonight, I can no longer keep that new dust bunny at bay. It has been gnawing away at my insides that it has unsettled me so much. I can no longer be untrue.

But in the end, the decision is always yours and yours alone.

Like it was recounted to me - Was it all in my head? Did it happen? - I sure would like to think it was only ALL in my head. But no, it was said outloud and it un-nerves me. For you see, all my life, I have always left the ball in someone else's court. And for once, someone is telling me "It's your call".

And when it's time to act and you're all alone with your back against the wall,
I suppose it is MY call - what I wish to do with MY life. Yet, it is not so much the words but the manner in which is was said. And because I do not want the responsibility of having to decide. And because I do not want the responsibility of setting myself up for a fall - I brush it aside and be all uppity-bitchy.  

the only voice that matters is the one in your head.

But all said and done. And all the false bravado aside - I have to ask "What was it all for?" when I could be happier with the thought that while it may not be conventional, it is what it is. And didn't we already knew that from long ago? Hadn't I already make that decision? And so far, hasn't it proven me right?

The one telling you what you already knew.

Perhaps then I should be asking my lady friends a different opinion. Not one of why men will always be boys. But rather, what it takes to stick it through.

The one that's almost always right.

Where is Barbsie?

It is a very bad place that I am in right now. And I know that for a fact simply because I have had to walk back to the car 3 times over the course of the day, forgetting to take my phone with me.

Right now, I cannot help but recall a question an old friend once asked over Facebook ~ What is on Barb's mind. Cos it feels like there is a thousand and one things that is running through it - much like a thought-montage, each one blurring into the other, only to come back again like in a loop.

Another friend tells me I should stop reading and watching depressing materials. Yet, I cannot help but feel - the books I have read and the movies I have watched - in someone else's hands, the outcome would be different, less morbid.

Perhaps it is a series of realisations, without a pause in between. I am overwhelmed. By my own self. Go figure!

Now, I know what they say ~ Acknowledgement is the key to recovery. But hell, how does one recover when the various things one is acknowledging are all contradicting?

For example: Barbsie is stuck in 48 hours in Paris. Not so much the sights, the sounds and definitely not the weather. But the shared conversations just after the lights go off for the night; the mumblings just before sleep takes over. Yet, at the same time, Barbsie knows that close proximity is not something she is ready for right now. That sharing living quarters, scheduling plans in between plans is going to be too much for her pea-sized brain and her egg-shell consciousness.

Or how Barbsie feels that life is too short to let her head rule her life. That there are many things that she over-thinks when it should be one of those things in life that she should just Nike-it. Yet, Barbsie knows that jumping the gun is not always the best solution. That it only leads to a lot of "Oh good grief! I did not just do / say that!"

So yes, Barbsie is lost. In her own head. To the point that she feels she has lost her words.

Perhaps, it is time for less thinking on one's own and time for more talking. About the things that really matter.

Strange Affinity

It has been almost 2 weeks since our return from the break. And yet, I cannot shake this strange affinity of the city that I spent only 2 nights in.

And yesterday it dawned on me ~ why it is called the City of Romance.

Perhaps because as a city herself, she had seen one sorrow too many - from the French Revolution to the World Wars. Or maybe it is because so many great names - in literature and arts - had grown and blossomed in her embrace.

Her synonym as the City of Romance, to me is mis-guided by one and almost all. For it is not the love that you have for another, but rather the love for life and living.

So while I feel like I have wasted somewhat precious moments of our trip, in a way, it was a learning curve. And it took a whole city to teach me that.

Life is too short to want to do everything and anything. And while to have everything in life structured and planned out to a T is also bad: at the end of the day, it's all about balance in the present.

Someday we'll be back there. And this time, we'll sit in the park and talk like we always do.

Then we can really say "We had Paris at our feet!"

Paris: It Almost Didn't Happen

If I had been more pig-headed, a week ago, instead of boarding the Eurostar for Paris, I would have been boarding the plane home. Yes, Paris almost didn't happen. And it's quite amazing that we had to travel thousands of miles away to have our 1st big fight.

It takes a lot of physical closeness and time to really get to know somebody. That is what I realised on this trip. 4 years may be coming on and by, but in truth, it was only in the last 2 weeks that we have really come to know each other.

Was it for the better? Or did it bring things to turn for the worse? I have yet to figure that one out. After all, without the trepidations of Barcelona, this trip was really about the good, the bad and the down-right ugly. Well, mostly the Barbsie ugly - yes, I was as loaded as Barbsie could only be.

My mum says I am fortunate: that he is the sort who would bite his tongue and let me fuss and fume cos that way there would be no fuel to my fire. And I am thinking here - eventually all that biting is gonna take a toil. And then what?

As dreams of walking through the streets of Paris plagues my sleep (still!), I am grappling with a number of things. And I am glad of this harsh reality of coming back to the real world and work. It is giving me a time-out to clear my head, ponder on things (said and done!) and I suppose, if it doesn't kill us, it'll only make us stronger (I hope!).

But at the end of it all, I am glad Paris almost didn't happen. And also glad that it did. Now if only I can see the wisdom in all that.

Change Over

"Was she the last of your grandparents?" asked the Ambassador as we had a chat over lunch the other day.

Perhaps it has never really struck home before this but with that line, it all came to light - this roller coaster of emotions that I have been on since Ah Ma passed. The feeling of guilty aside, there was this big gaping hole that seem to stare me down in the face each time I think about it. And it never did make any sense, right up till then.

A colleague of mine had remarked in her email to me: The loss of a grandparent always put us on uncertain grounds. And again, I never really understood what she meant.

In our world today, we rarely keep in our conscious minds that we are of a particular generation. It is always, levels in the family - but correct me if I'm wrong - we're all clumped into one big happy family tree. And like all trees in our sight these days, it is just a tree - the branches, the twigs, the leaves: it is all part of a tree.

Yet, if I look at my tree right now, really closely - a whole bottom level has been trimmed off. And while the top has sprouted new branches - they are young, not yet firm nor strong; very likely to break or splinter with a huge wind.

It is a time of change-over. It is a time of stepping up. As I told the undertaker the other day: Ah Ma's eldest grandchild is 48 years old. And as I told my Uncle as well: It's time to stop seeing us, his kids, his nephews and nieces, as if we are all 5 still, running around in our PJs as we chomp on our breakfast.

I do not feel ready. To be the middle section of the tree, supposedly the strong bits left while the level below us slowly lose their strength and the one above us builds theirs. It is a heavy weight that rests on these shoulders (and my cousins) as it is now up to us to hold this tree up, until our young'uns come into their own.

I suppose until readiness comes to me, I just have to do it like how I was taught: two feet forward, firmly planted on the ground and give it my best shot.

96 Hours Without Ah Ma

The deed is done.

We sent Ah Ma off the way she would have wanted it to be done - with our shoulders squared, heads held high and words of praise to God on our lips.

I have yet to grief. Sure, there has been the brief spurts here and there. Tried as I may to keep it together, when memories locked away from my childhood and my adulthood come flooding back, the memory of "Ah-Bab-Bab" in Ah Ma's voice come ringing in my ear, grief could not be kept at arms' length.

I will continue to miss her, just as 13 years later, I still miss Ah Kong (grandpa). I used to think that Ben was insane to speak to his mother (God bless her soul) in the presence tense. But over the last few days, so did I of my grandparents. And I am pretty sure, when I am old and grey, I would still do the same. They were the only grandparents I had ever known. I did not have the good fortune of knowing my maternal grandparents.

96 hours later, I am holding it together till I get on the plane and get home tomorrow night.

I think if I hold on tight to the fact that both my grandparents would be damn proud of who I am today, I'll be alright.

Fourth Day without Ah Ma: Half Strength

Ah Mas body will be cremated this afternoon.

I have been digging very deep in for the strength to carry through the last 3 days and 4 nights. It wavers, it breaks me, it brings me to my knees. But each time it happens, I go and sit by her body and I find solace.

Ah Ma would always tell me: Have patience, be strong. I can still hear it in my head that clear strong advice of hers. Even in the face of the worst adversity of my life, her forgiving nature never faded.

But I am drained - emotionally and mentally... And today, as my cousin already warned me last night: I have to be strong to carry the rest of the through.

I have to cast aside all my regrets - the number of New Years and Christmas that I shied away from her and the family as I hung my head in shame and disgrace: all wasted years. For never once did Ah Ma judged me nor barred me from entering the family home.

As I prepare to send her body off, I can only hope that wherever she is, looking down upon me, she would give me the grace to make good on her lifelong advice ~ for like a desperate person, even a half-strength shot of coffee would do plenty good.

Third Day without Ah Ma: Chasing Cars

One day more.. one day more before Ah Ma goes the way of the Bible saying: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

It is a bit more poignant today as I look through the social networks and blogs and find that my cousins seems to have recent pictures taken with her. While all I have of her is a picture we took together 21 years ago and the smiling face she gave me at Christmas.

I have been feeling rather left out as I was assigned the responsibility of ensuring things went smoothly and the finances are fully accounted for. I watch from my "station" as everyone else throngs at their whim and fancy to go in to sit with her at the wake.

I keep telling myself, that it is alright. That I do not need that physical closeness with her body to mourn. That I can hold on until I reach home, shut the doors, turn off the lights, stop the clock and bawl my heart out. But that is not true.

This is now know. I need my fair share of having last gazes at her face with eyes closed, trying to push my hands through the glass pane to grasp hers one last time.

I need time still to ask Ah Ma: would you still chase cars with me, even though you're not gone?

First Day without Ah Ma: Perfect Day

I had finished Sebastian Barry's latest book: On Canaan's Side just last week. A book that struck me strange as each chapter was marked by "X-Day without Bill". Yet, there is a certain poignancy this morning: Our 1st Day without Ah Ma.

My grandma passed away peacefully yesterday evening - on the eve of the new Lunar calendar. She quietly slipped away as we - her children, grandchildren & great-grandchildren, surrounded her with hymns praising the Holy Mother Mary.

It was the "release" she needed, after being bed-ridden since Boxing Day 2008 when she had a fall. For if you ever wondered where I got my strength, my stubbornness and my need to be constantly independent - look no further, it was all from my elders and Ah Ma was one of them. So I can only imagine what the last few years has been like for her - not able to do anything for herself.

We have had time, plenty of time, to prepare ourselves mentally for this day - yet, no matter how many times we have said our goodbyes, the finality of it drives a certain sense of extreme loss home like a stake being driven through the heart.

Oh what I would not give to see her face light up once again when my kids call her "Lau-mah" and she recognize that it is them, that they have come home once again.

Oh what I would not give to cook another roast chicken meal for her to enjoy.

As I watch my aunt, my dad, my uncles - we're all holding on so tightly to the fact that she had slipped away, after all her pains and sufferings of the last couple of days. And how that it was with holy choirs of angels that she left our side.

So while it was a day of deep, deep loss for all of us, it was also a perfect day.

Ah Ma is now free.

Ah Ma is now gone...