2 weeks has flown by faster than I can say McFlurry in Taiwan.
I am having serious withdrawal symptoms of the land of night markets, bugs and glorious scenery (not so much of the bugs though). To be honest, I just got home from the airport - and I had to do this because I MISS IT ALREADY.
But I just lost my fervent urge to document every moment there. Life.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Thoughts
Her hair was peppered with silver and grey streaks, they weren't the kinds you'd see in Hollywood a.k.a Meryl Streep (nobody has hair like celebrities let's get real) but they were silky and neatly bun-ed at the back of her head.
Her hands were covered in wrinkles, a sign of hard work - the sacrifices she'd made, the food she's prepared, the children she cared for. They represented the years she had given up to make life better for the people she loved.
Her face, stoic yet delicate. Her face was an irony. She had a strong face shape, they were hard around the edges but; the thing about her face was as soon as you kissed her, her flesh was smooth, soft and comforting.
Her body was compact. She might have been smaller than she was due to age, that's what growing old is about. You shrink, your beauty fades, you get sick, you become - well, for the lack of a better word - old.
That is the what the conventional growing old was about
But she had an air of gentleness, wisdom, kindness.
Her greying hair were her thoughts with loved ones who weren't supposed to pass before her. It was her showing that they never left her mind, and that they were always close to her heart. It was her saying "I never forget, I never stopped loving". It was her prayers for them, and to them.
Her labored hands were proof of her unfailing love. For those she still had, for those she generously accepted into the family. Her hands were the epitome of a mother's love, and it transcended to the other generations. It felt like you were touched by an angel when she held you. She gave freely, because her heart was so big.
Her face was for smiling only. It never once reflected a hint of sadness, anger or whatever negative feeling a human might experience. She spoke kind words and made you feel at ease. Her rules were never to punish but to mold. Her face was a joy to look at.
Her body was a sign of strength. She endured the toughest of times, but she never gave up. Not through the world war, and not through pesky kids. She was a fighter, a warrior, the strongest one I've seen thus far. It was her telling you that nothing will bring me down, nothing will stop me from protecting you, nothing will make me love you less.
Those that knew her loved her. Those that she loved were amazing people. It is truly a beautiful thing to see that one life has impacted so many, and it is the legacy she left behind. The stories of her are never-ending - "she was so cool", "she was a superwoman", "a pillar of strength", "amazing grandmother". And it is this that keeps her alive in us.
"Unable are the loved to die for love is immortality" – Emily Dickinson
Death is not goodbye, it's "See you soon" Atta.
Her hands were covered in wrinkles, a sign of hard work - the sacrifices she'd made, the food she's prepared, the children she cared for. They represented the years she had given up to make life better for the people she loved.
Her face, stoic yet delicate. Her face was an irony. She had a strong face shape, they were hard around the edges but; the thing about her face was as soon as you kissed her, her flesh was smooth, soft and comforting.
Her body was compact. She might have been smaller than she was due to age, that's what growing old is about. You shrink, your beauty fades, you get sick, you become - well, for the lack of a better word - old.
That is the what the conventional growing old was about
But she had an air of gentleness, wisdom, kindness.
Her greying hair were her thoughts with loved ones who weren't supposed to pass before her. It was her showing that they never left her mind, and that they were always close to her heart. It was her saying "I never forget, I never stopped loving". It was her prayers for them, and to them.
Her labored hands were proof of her unfailing love. For those she still had, for those she generously accepted into the family. Her hands were the epitome of a mother's love, and it transcended to the other generations. It felt like you were touched by an angel when she held you. She gave freely, because her heart was so big.
Her face was for smiling only. It never once reflected a hint of sadness, anger or whatever negative feeling a human might experience. She spoke kind words and made you feel at ease. Her rules were never to punish but to mold. Her face was a joy to look at.
Her body was a sign of strength. She endured the toughest of times, but she never gave up. Not through the world war, and not through pesky kids. She was a fighter, a warrior, the strongest one I've seen thus far. It was her telling you that nothing will bring me down, nothing will stop me from protecting you, nothing will make me love you less.
Those that knew her loved her. Those that she loved were amazing people. It is truly a beautiful thing to see that one life has impacted so many, and it is the legacy she left behind. The stories of her are never-ending - "she was so cool", "she was a superwoman", "a pillar of strength", "amazing grandmother". And it is this that keeps her alive in us.
"Unable are the loved to die for love is immortality" – Emily Dickinson
Death is not goodbye, it's "See you soon" Atta.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Lourdes Mary
This is for Gerard's grandma, Atta - who was called back to Jesus on 30th March 2014.
She was a stoic woman, everytime I saw her she would be smiling.
I remember meeting her for the first time. On Easter or New Years'; I can't exactly remember and I was clad in black - a colour all of Gerard's family members were forbidden to don on festive days. I remember being scared that I would upset them, with his sisters giving me warnings about what I might face when I stepped into the house.
When I arrived, most did comment that I shouldn't be in a dull colour but the one that I feared upsetting the most (Atta) didn't do anything but smile and say "Hello girl." I don't think she ever knew my name actually.
Subsequently, the other meetings with her I was more comfortable around G's HUGE family and I was able to chat with her. Atta was probably the nicest old person I've ever met. She was also the most chill, haha. I never saw her panic or being flustered during the festivities whilst everyone else was always bustling around me. She just sat in her rocking chair and watched TV - mind you, she watches football & wrestling.
Being Chinese, and in an interracial relationship, my family has never been too welcoming to Gerard in the beginning. They saw him in a prejudiced light because of his colour - dark. Chinese, as blunt as this is, are the shittiest people in Singapore. Quick to judge with a lot of unsolicited comments. I do reiterate again that this was in the beginning, they are now EDUCATED and love Gerard as their own :')
So being in this situation I thought maybe his extended family might not be happy too but how Atta readily accepted me into the family was excruciatingly heartwarming that I wanted to die because I don't deserve such kindness ever. His entire family was SO DAMN open-minded and cool and I love them to death because they made me feel at home, like I belonged.
Atta considered me as one of her grandchildren and I cannot be more grateful for that.
I know that we're supposed to celebrate her passing because she's no longer suffering and her life was nothing short of amazing, but it is difficult because I wanted her here for everything Gerard and I were going to embark on together. I wanted to grow closer with her, celebrate the rest of the festivities at her home with her, see her on her rocking chair, talk to her.
Now that she's gone, all that lives is her memory. And that is scary, will she cease to exist if I forgot her some day?
In the short span of time knowing her, I learned so much. How to freely love, how to focus on the present, how to never forget to tell your loved ones you love them.
All the stories of her will live on, and she's left behind a legacy.
To Atta, thank you for everything. You were an inspiration, and you will always be my grandma. I love you.
She was a stoic woman, everytime I saw her she would be smiling.
I remember meeting her for the first time. On Easter or New Years'; I can't exactly remember and I was clad in black - a colour all of Gerard's family members were forbidden to don on festive days. I remember being scared that I would upset them, with his sisters giving me warnings about what I might face when I stepped into the house.
When I arrived, most did comment that I shouldn't be in a dull colour but the one that I feared upsetting the most (Atta) didn't do anything but smile and say "Hello girl." I don't think she ever knew my name actually.
Subsequently, the other meetings with her I was more comfortable around G's HUGE family and I was able to chat with her. Atta was probably the nicest old person I've ever met. She was also the most chill, haha. I never saw her panic or being flustered during the festivities whilst everyone else was always bustling around me. She just sat in her rocking chair and watched TV - mind you, she watches football & wrestling.
Being Chinese, and in an interracial relationship, my family has never been too welcoming to Gerard in the beginning. They saw him in a prejudiced light because of his colour - dark. Chinese, as blunt as this is, are the shittiest people in Singapore. Quick to judge with a lot of unsolicited comments. I do reiterate again that this was in the beginning, they are now EDUCATED and love Gerard as their own :')
So being in this situation I thought maybe his extended family might not be happy too but how Atta readily accepted me into the family was excruciatingly heartwarming that I wanted to die because I don't deserve such kindness ever. His entire family was SO DAMN open-minded and cool and I love them to death because they made me feel at home, like I belonged.
Atta considered me as one of her grandchildren and I cannot be more grateful for that.
I know that we're supposed to celebrate her passing because she's no longer suffering and her life was nothing short of amazing, but it is difficult because I wanted her here for everything Gerard and I were going to embark on together. I wanted to grow closer with her, celebrate the rest of the festivities at her home with her, see her on her rocking chair, talk to her.
Now that she's gone, all that lives is her memory. And that is scary, will she cease to exist if I forgot her some day?
In the short span of time knowing her, I learned so much. How to freely love, how to focus on the present, how to never forget to tell your loved ones you love them.
All the stories of her will live on, and she's left behind a legacy.
To Atta, thank you for everything. You were an inspiration, and you will always be my grandma. I love you.
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