It's been aeons since I even remembered I had a blog that used to serve as sort of a chronicle of the misadventures and the blessings in my life.
After moving to the sandpit as I called the place I was in for 7 years, life took on its own busy schedule of work and then when the daughters moved over to juggling demanding worklife and balancing that out with being a hands on wonder mommy that did everything on my own without help. The days got so hectic and time flew by.
In those years that I was away so many more things happened and I'd like to say life was a fairytale in the sandpit with oodles of cash I didn't know what to do with and men at my beckoning. But alas I've never had the opportunity to live a fairytale life ... EVER.
With little remorse or sadness, I welcomed the news of my rapist death with somewhat a sigh of relief, he would not live to be a burden or a demon to anyone else. He'd already done his damage.
My mom went through her own battle with breast cancer and thankfully has been blessed with a clean bill of health post chemo sessions. But with all treatments the side effects is the increasing presence of Parkinsons
My grandma passed away and to say I've accepted her passing is far from the truth. I still often think of her being around tottering to her own devices. But for a lady born in her time she was far more independent and farsighted than expected. She gave me solid advice from the day my ex walked out on the girls and I. She always said "Hold you head up high, be focused on the children, a man isn't the begin or end all of life and reap from the effort you put in for your girls. They need a strong mother to raise them right." Her passing in 2014 was a huge shock for me ... but I guess for the life she'd lived and all her experiences, talents, joys and heartbreaks were laid to rest somewhere in the Straits of Melaka.
My dad had been diabetic from very young, and just months before my shortlived marriage, he'd suffered a diabetic stroke. I still believe if he'd had a little more spunk, he'd have recovered but that's my dad. From the time he'd turned 40, every subsequent birthday would be followed with the line "who knows this might be my last". Even in the years that I was away abroad, every time I called to wish we'd have this conversation. But this year, on his 77th birthday, when I spoke to him, he didn't say his classic line. His diabetes was wreaking havoc since 2010, with leg amputations, repeated infections on the foot and by April this year the dreaded bedsore had made its appearance.
I'd had my own misadventure in the sandpit, having been unceremoniously laidoff from a job that I'd took up 7 weeks prior and remained unemployed despite all efforts to find gainful employment. So hearing dad's health was on the decline, I opted to comeback home the moment the exams of my elder girl were over.
We got home, we told mom and dad my big secret of joblessness for the last year, the struggles and friendships that helped us through. I found work here, on contract basis - something better than nothing. My folks completed their 47th anniversary 4th July'17 and the next day dad was admitted to the General Hospital because the bedsore needed to be debrided and cleaned and addressed - it was the first time I actually saw the wound and I realised my dad was suffering.
I won't ruminate on the following days but on the 30th of Jul'17 .. 25 days after being admitted my dad breathed his last with my brother and me there. My sister was flying home when he passed. It's nearly 5 months now and I still feel like if I look into his room I might find him there watching his TV and I might cheekily say Pa want a peg? But he's not there anymore ... he's gone too ...
The one thing I've come to accept is that we're all growing up and old and soon familiar faces one by one will become memories and someday I too will form a part of the tapestry of memories
The girls have grown and flourished whilst abroad. I have built a good bond with them I hope that will last through their lifetime. I've learnt to not allow the sting of being walked out on as a wife affect me too much nor the length of time it took to get my divorce. I'd rather spend all my time and energy in molding my 2 girls to be good people who have something to give back to humankind.
Letting go might be hard but I've decided that as hard as it seems it's the best remedy to the hurts and pains that it causes by holding on. We aren't perfect people but we can try to live good lives without causing anyone else pain.
The sun sets each day and rises on the morn of the next and we too will ebb and flow in life ... be brave enough and have faith that for each struggle there is a reward and victory in it.
Be well everyone. God Bless
