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Archive for the ‘Hurt’ Category

Quizás Quizás Quizás

Posted in Hurt, Write On, tagged , on August 14, 2009| 2 Comments »

Perhaps… the trouble with being strong is, people assume your heart can never break. Well, it is heartbreaking to break the news, but it can. It does. And when it does, no one usually knows what to do. So your heart breaks, you break down, and that breaks others’ hearts to see. The funny thing is: no one would do anything. And the sad news is: no one can. Perhaps that is why no one does.

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Perhaps no one can break your heart unless you let them. And perhaps no one can mend your broken heart, then, until you let them. Perhaps you are not strong anymore. Perhaps strong is not what you have to be. Perhaps you just have to jump on a different streetcar named courage… on which no one looks back. And perhaps you too should try to do so, letting no one break your heart and letting no one mend it.

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Let me let go...

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Or perhaps the only letting left to do is… go.

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Your Call

Posted in Hurt, Sense, tagged , on July 28, 2009| 5 Comments »

There are times when you surrender to the needs to cry, knowing how it can wash your soul off of sorrow… think of this Usman Awang’s (part of a) poem:

 Been crying...

Dia tidak tahu apa itu panas,
kerana dia itu lah apinya.

She knows not what heat is,
for she is the fire.

 

Just like when you struggle trying to find strength and know not how and where to find it, sit yourself down and cry if you must. Only then will you realize, you can call strength by your first name.

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Just About

Posted in Hurt on June 17, 2009| Leave a Comment »

What happened recently did not make me strong. I am still angry. I am still sad. I am still resentful. I am still human. And I let me be. At some point when I stop thinking from my own point of view, I am ready to tell Enida to not waste her time trusting. ‘He who has, gets.’ Nothing just happens. One doesn’t just suddenly have something without getting it. And I don’t just feel angry, sad and resentful just because I just do or just am. I am reacting.

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But I am done reacting just now.

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What happened recently did not make me strong. Or stronger. It made me brave. It made me realize that I do have choices and I can choose. And I am courageous to say that I am keeping my options open. I am brave enough to choose to say it now… if you choose me, try not to lose me.

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We’ll see.

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Forever Whatever

Posted in Hurt, Monchies on October 13, 2008| 2 Comments »

We are home now after four nights of sleeping in a strange bed threesome-ly; Mommy and Monchies. I didn’t sleep much those four nights. That’s just the way I am when I have training courses to conduct. No matter how prepared I am, I still find it ‘exciting’. And I will be just too excited to even close my eyes. I guess, this is MY kind of adrenaline rush.

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Sleepless and all, I got to forget about my Mom for a little bit. Or at least to pretend forgetting about Mom. Until Friday when Ka Cher updated me on Mom’s one-week break from the hospital. In between my presentation slides, I looked up for information on Velcade – the chemo regime Mom is going to be put on starting October 20.

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Sleepless and all, I got to forget about my personal self and enjoy my professional one. Or at least to pretend forgetting that I am about to brave parenting all on my own, single-handedly. I have been doing it for almost a year anyway. Rotationally…just like Be has, with his job. I wasn’t thinking of mothering until Saturday evening when I came back to our hotel room to a teary-eyed daughter who could not sleep because she missed Daddy so much. So in between notes on Communication, Body Language and Effective Presentation…I could not help myself but to send a text message to Be, asking how he was doing.

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Expectedly, when we got home yesterday, reality came rushing and gushing at us. We had no defenses. So we came home to our personal selves, my daughter and I. The rainy afternoon was easy, the sundown was uneventful. But bedtime, like it has always been, was the hardest. And last night, while humming the medley of Suriram and Greensleeves to Kitreena, I was asked yet another question:

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“Mom, when Daddy has a new family with the other lady…what will I call him? Can I still call him Daddy? Or do I call him Uncle Karl?”

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I was sure Kitreena was not trying to be funny. But I tried hard to contain from even chortling. I let out a sigh nonetheless and answered my daughter’s advance-level question.

“Nothing can change the truth, monchy. He’s still your Daddy. So you will call him Daddy forever.”

“But…”

There is always a but with this gal!

“But if he is my Daddy forever, how come he doesn’t want to come home even for just one day?”

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That question, my suriram…can only be answered by your forever-Daddy.

Suriram…Suriram
Suriram, anak yang manis
Anak manis janganlah dicium sayang
Kalau dicium merah pipinya

[Suriram…Suriram
Suriram, the sweet little child
Sweet little child you kiss her not
For she blushes to your kiss]

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Through The Flame

Posted in Hurt, Sense on September 19, 2008| 1 Comment »

Today was supposed to be a big day for my girl. She had been anticipating, waiting for, looking forward to this day and practising her Mandarin for many weeks. She was going to sing the national anthem of China at the school assembly wearing her bright red cheongsam. Big deal, supposedly.

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She was going to show off her ‘lau lei’ in Mandarin to me, singing ever so proudly on the stage while I was going to tape her proudly – to show it to Daddy and show it off to Grandma in the hospital and everyone else. (It’s the chinese blood in me talking now, with pride, of course.)

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It was going to be a special day, but my special girl is lying in bed burning a flame of 39 degrees Celcius. She can’t sing, her throat is hurting. She can’t get up, her body is aching. I can’t watch, my heart is breaking. While Daddy…Daddy’s in Europe with his new flame, planning his next move, progressively leaning towards a future without us.

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I just got some Tylanol into her and if her temperature does not come down in 2 hours, I am going to have to do some Dr-Ananda magic trip-o-tricks. I’ll walk if I can’t run, and I’ll creep if I can’t soar…to put out the flame of 39 degrees Celcius and still make today a special day for my girl.

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I’ve got what it takes.
I’ve got sunshine on a clowdy day.

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Damaged Goods

Posted in Hurt on September 14, 2008| 2 Comments »

There’s a big dent on my car. So big, and yet nobody notices it. The last few weeks I have been debating whether to just sell the car, get a brand-spanking new one, or take it to the best repairman I know, spend as much as I need to… to make it look like what it used to. You know the saying? “If you look good, you feel good.” You do whatever you have to do to make you feel good because you actually do something about it.
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And there is a huge hole on my favorite dress. So huge, and yet I have to point it out before anyone takes notice of it. I haven’t done anything about the hole as I am still thinking whether to get a new one made up exactly like it, or to get it fixed by a professional tailor. I know one brilliant designer who would do wonders. But he would cost me 5 if not 15 new dresses just to get the hole patched, mended, and concealed! I don’t know. I keep looking and staring at the hole these days. I think it’s getting bigger.
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I also have a daughter – a sweet little button, I tell ya – just as beautiful as an angel, who has a scar on her forehead. It’s gigantic to me, though it can always be covered with her gorgeous curly locks. It’s obviously un-noticeable to those who don’t know the story behind the teasing, the chasing around with her big brother and the bumping of head almost through the kitchen wall on that sunny winter morning. So, naturally I would be thinking whether I should get that scar removed or whether I should get rid of that sweet little button altogether. I can’t keep a damaged good, can I?
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If choices in life were that simple, I would be just happy to press that RESET button and go back to June 8th, 1998 and say “No” to Be’s big hug, late tea at The Melting Pot and that one-week fling of my life. If.
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God bless my soul, for I cannot keep on killing one lamb just to save another… and another, and another.

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Or can I?

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Hush Little Babies…While I Weep

Posted in Hurt on September 11, 2008| 2 Comments »

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My Precious Ballerina Kitty and my Little Blue Pocoyo…
I was down on my knees again tonight, weeping and wishing that I would know how to tell you the things I don’t even know how to tell myself.

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When the time comes, you will understand that love is not what you spend your whole life looking for. You don’t look for love. You just love.

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In time, you will see that love is not those I-love-you’s you say when you know not how to say the I-am-sorry’s. Do justice to the truth. Tell it. It will set you free. Just be sorry when you don’t mean the love you say.

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And someday you will love the way I love your Daddy. No reason, no season, and no prison.

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So, my sweet little monchies…
While you were sleeping tonight, I loved your Daddy the only way I know how.

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I let him go.

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I love you, goodbye.

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Forever Holds Your Peace, My Child

Posted in Hurt, Monchies on September 9, 2008| 5 Comments »

We were just about home from Seoul Garden (formerly Seoul Bulgogi) when the car USB got to In My Daughter’s Eyes by Martina McBride again. Kitreena was just happy singing along through the first and second part. But towards half of the song, she went awkwardly quiet. I turned to look at her. She was covering her face with both hands, her body was shaking from trying so hard to contain herself from crying.

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When I stretched my left arm to touch her right knee gently, she broke down. She was all in tears. I knew exactly what she was going to say. I just saw it three weeks ago. So I said exactly what I said three weeks ago. That it is okay to miss Daddy and that I am sure Daddy feels the same way. And that I would skip to the next song if the song upset her. And as exactly expected, she denied that it was the song that made her feel sad.

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What’s not exactly like what happened three weeks ago was what she said tonight.

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It’s not the song Mom! It’s Daddy!

What do you mean?

If Daddy doesn’t know when he’s coming back, I keep thinking he’s going to be there [in Russia] forever!

No, sweetie. He is coming back in October for a few days. I told you that.

But you don’t know when!

True. But he is coming back.

Does the airport know when Daddy’s airplane is landing here Mom?

I don’t think so, monch.

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A long silence.

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Mommy, does Daddy want to come back?

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A longer silence.

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I was just holding my breath wishing for some numbness. We got to the gate, Kitreena sat up and said, “Mommy, I keep thinking Daddy is going to be there forever.” While waiting for the gate to open, I looked at her and smiled, “No monchy, Daddy has a home here. He can’t stay there forever, can he?” Kitreena looked at me and smiled – convinced.

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But I lied.

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Kitreena, held by Daddy, when she was just six days old.
She’s turning six on November 10, this year.

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It Only Hurts When I Breathe

Posted in Hurt on August 25, 2008| Leave a Comment »

When You’re Gone

I always needed time on my own
I never thought I’d need you there when I cry
And the days feel like years when I’m alone
And the bed where you lie is made up on your side
When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now

When you’re gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you
When you’re gone
That face I came to know is missing too
When you’re gone
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it ok
I miss you

I’ve never felt this way before
Everything that I do reminds me of you
And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor
And they smell just like you
I love the things that you do
When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now

We were made for each other
Out here forever
I know we were
All I ever wanted was for you to know
Everything I’d do, I’d give my heart and soul
I can hardly breathe I need to feel you here with me

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