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...