Upon popular demand, I've returned to blogging my thoughts. Richard, my family and my friends have all told me of my ability to capture thoughts and images far better than they can. More so, I seem to able to capture the very things that their heart delves into. Hence, my love for writing will be resurrected. You might ask, where have I been all this while? Answer, my dear friends, is quite the obvious for those who have been by my side, but for my dear friends in other places, my life took a dark turn.
My dearest Grandmother (paternal) fought bravely with ovarian cancer. Though the days of her battle still ring bright in my minds eye, I say only that it was a period of dark fear but also the most beautiful time of life where the family was brought together to care for the lady who has touched our lives in so many ways. I will always remember her nursing me back to health from a horrid stomach flu. With ginger ale and unsalted crackers to eat, I was weak and delirious. All I remember is waking up occasionally to find her cool hands on my forehead, her talking to herself about my sickness, and her strong spirit praying for me. I remember distinctively having being propped up, a minty ointment splashed on my back and her tiny weather worn hands rubbing my back to ease the discomfort in my stomach and back. Everything dissipated, the stale taste of crackers and ginger ale, the sea in my stomach, the barge in my head. For that moment, my mind was as sharp as hers as she sangs songs of old to me, songs that reminded me of the time where we went to tangkap bubuk*, times where I squatted with my little sun hat, rubbing the sand out of my eyes. All too soon, the relief was gone and I was back into fitful slumber.
It was those little hands that held tight to my arm so as not to fall, it was those little hands that I held to my cheek as I read Psalms, it was those little hands that massaged with cream, it was those little hands that were too pale to be hers, it was those little hands that pulled me close to bless, and it is those little hands that I miss.
My soul and my life have closed itself off from the inception of the loss. With the help of many and all, I have slowly reinstated myself into a life I once led, one of self reflection. For the longest time I avoided self reflection, for the reason of repeating the most painful parts of my life. Now, it is the self reflection that teaches me the most about myself. My dear friends, I pray that what I write is not for my self sake, but for the sake through which you find God holding the base foundations of your soul. I found that out, though not the easy way.
Shout out to Benjamin C. Miss you too bud, you were always a hoot.
