The Phone Call

Its 10am.

I am at the office.

Every day for 5 years,  mom would call me.  And we’d talk. About work. About how life is.

Then after an hour, we’d say our goodbyes.  And go about our day.

Then this pattern stops.

How do you live with that?

I can’t.

I don’t think I ever will.

Love Notes

I came across a mommy blog today.

She talked about how her kids would write her lots of short notes on pieces of paper.  Messages of love or random everyday sweet nothings that are too mushy to blurt out.

I am transported at once to  a big pink room I once shared with my sister when we were in elementary school.  After arriving from the US, we stayed at my grandmother’s old mansion.  Mom took out the division of one room and opened it up to fit 2 beds.   Between these two beds across was a large study table that was always untidy.  Before school, my sister and I would write little messages that mom would read within the day.

Years later, she would mention those letters to us.  Then she’d bring out a whole scrapbook filled with letters from me and my sister that she saved and collected over the years.

There is no mom to enjoy reading them now.

At least, I know, she once did.

 

The Reason I’ve Been Away

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I have always believed in the saying “when one door closes, a window opens.”

With mom gone, I felt a door close.  I got lost.  I traversed unguided roads alone, it felt.

Then in one of those roads, it lead me to something new.

It opened another door. And I entered it.

It was a journey unlike any other that I have experienced.

And I want to share it with you.

I Am Still Here….(I Wish You Were Too)

I have not totally forgotten this blog.

Life just took a strange turn.

I still read your comments.

And I always read your posts in your blog.

I looked over at my G+ page tonight.  It showed a post dated December 8, 2012.

It had a photo.

A desk calendar.

It was dated December 2011.

Yes, it has been a year.

Amidst everything that’s going on in my life right now,

No matter how busy I get or how tired I am,

I will always have that moment to stop and say…

“I wish you were still here.”

When Not Going Home is the Answer

Sometimes I want to be alone.

Just me, myself, at home, doing not so important things.  The hubs doing his thing.  The little one watching cartoons.  Just like that, we’re engrossed in our own little lives.  Finding peace in that moment.  Contentment.

Especially when I need it the most.

Like tonight.

I go home because dad’s there.  I need to.  I have to.  Because he’s there.  Nothing more.

I go home because “going home” meant getting a stress free life even for just a while.  When I am surrounded by an easy way sort of living.  But now that’s not the same.

I go home to an emotionally charged atmosphere where people I used to know are somehow not the same anymore.  Since mom died, it has become just too much not just because of a simulation of more responsibilities, but the thought of working and then efforts go unnoticed, unappreciated, and most of the times, advice are strewn aside (why did you even ask me in the first place?).

There’s a long vacation coming up.

But sometimes, like tonight, I’d choose to stay put.  Just here.

But I can’t.

Because dad’s there.

 

‘Cause Nobody Asks

How I feel about mom’s death.

How I feel now that she’s gone.

How I feel with me and my family here and dad and sister there.

Basically how I feel about everything.

Probably because what I feel doesn’t show on the outside.

I am happy and outgoing.  You will see me smiling and laughing but you will never see my heart breaking.

Emotionally I am torn.  And drained.

There are things people expect me to understand.  And I try to all the time.

I give in most of the time.

But do they ask if it’s okay? No.

And when I want to be alone, they get mad.

Is it because  on the outside everything is okay and my life is just fine and dandy?

No.

But no one will ever know.

‘Cause nobody asks.