A warm breeze blows gently
Ushering in the smells of the rolling mountains
And the salty seas
As I say goodbye to my motherland
Under the blue sky where you rest
Cradled in the richness of love and death
We will meet and laugh again
With high kicks and cat swipes
And our love for action heists
Forever my heart remains full
With your soul deeply etched into my being
For that is the legacy you have left behind
As only a beloved grandmother could.
Two and a bit years have passed since my last post and admittedly I was not in a good place. I tried returning to this blog in a feeble attempt to write something but no matter how hard I tried, I didn't have it in me to share anything with anyone. I wasn't angry nor unhappy but I was suffering from a wound that felt the size of a crater bereft of oxygen. I had lost interest in writing. I had also lost my beloved grandmother and due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to see her in her final days. And even though it's been nearly 3 years since her passing, the tears still flow down my face as I struggle hard to type these words. So I guess time is still healing. Perhaps it will never heal at all.
Breathe. Breathe in deeply, breathe out. Reach for the tissues, dab my tears and blow my nose. I can do this.
I had at least, arrived in time for her funeral - whatever consolation that is supposed to provide. Actually, it's none. The day I caught my flight to travel those 36 hours to Fiji was the day she passed. The night before I had dreamt of her, seen her surrounded by blood. That was the final message I suppose. When I arrived at her home, my childhood haven (gosh the tears are rolling now), my body trembled from the grief of already knowing she wasn't there to greet me. I learned that she had passed peacefully, surrounded by most of her children and that she had laid eyes on them in her final minutes. She had looked at every single person and then she closed her eyes forever.
The next day after my arrival, I accompanied some of my family to the hospital to pick her up. When we pulled her from that freezing compartment, I saw her face clearly. The expression I witnessed will forever remain imprinted in my mind. My grandmother had a smile on her face. She looked happy and at peace. The smile made her look alive, as if she was happy to see us. My father and aunts told me that she did not look like that when she had passed, nor after they had dressed her and driven with her to the hospital morgue. That smile on her face made everyone feel happy, despite the fact that we had unleashed Niagra falls in the tiny hospital mortuary. It helped lessen the guilt in me for not making it in time to see her when she was alive. Her smile made me feel that she was standing right next to me, aware that I had arrived and that was all that mattered to her. Even as I tell you about this, it is extremely difficult to keep my emotions in check and I must open my mouth to breathe in. The dryness in my chest is hard to soothe and I have to take a break from writing this.
After my grandmother's passing, I took a long hiatus from writing. Sometimes I write short excerpts and jot down my ideas but nothing truly solid has been developed. I did at one point dive back into the sequel for Ice Phoenix and I have gotten through 15 chapters at least but I am unsatisfied simply because I don't know which character I should focus the beginning of the story on. So I am attempting a new beginning. Hopefully I will be able to maintain my rhythm and not falter.
Over and out.
Ushering in the smells of the rolling mountains
And the salty seas
As I say goodbye to my motherland
Under the blue sky where you rest
Cradled in the richness of love and death
We will meet and laugh again
With high kicks and cat swipes
And our love for action heists
Forever my heart remains full
With your soul deeply etched into my being
For that is the legacy you have left behind
As only a beloved grandmother could.
Two and a bit years have passed since my last post and admittedly I was not in a good place. I tried returning to this blog in a feeble attempt to write something but no matter how hard I tried, I didn't have it in me to share anything with anyone. I wasn't angry nor unhappy but I was suffering from a wound that felt the size of a crater bereft of oxygen. I had lost interest in writing. I had also lost my beloved grandmother and due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to see her in her final days. And even though it's been nearly 3 years since her passing, the tears still flow down my face as I struggle hard to type these words. So I guess time is still healing. Perhaps it will never heal at all.
Breathe. Breathe in deeply, breathe out. Reach for the tissues, dab my tears and blow my nose. I can do this.
I had at least, arrived in time for her funeral - whatever consolation that is supposed to provide. Actually, it's none. The day I caught my flight to travel those 36 hours to Fiji was the day she passed. The night before I had dreamt of her, seen her surrounded by blood. That was the final message I suppose. When I arrived at her home, my childhood haven (gosh the tears are rolling now), my body trembled from the grief of already knowing she wasn't there to greet me. I learned that she had passed peacefully, surrounded by most of her children and that she had laid eyes on them in her final minutes. She had looked at every single person and then she closed her eyes forever.
The next day after my arrival, I accompanied some of my family to the hospital to pick her up. When we pulled her from that freezing compartment, I saw her face clearly. The expression I witnessed will forever remain imprinted in my mind. My grandmother had a smile on her face. She looked happy and at peace. The smile made her look alive, as if she was happy to see us. My father and aunts told me that she did not look like that when she had passed, nor after they had dressed her and driven with her to the hospital morgue. That smile on her face made everyone feel happy, despite the fact that we had unleashed Niagra falls in the tiny hospital mortuary. It helped lessen the guilt in me for not making it in time to see her when she was alive. Her smile made me feel that she was standing right next to me, aware that I had arrived and that was all that mattered to her. Even as I tell you about this, it is extremely difficult to keep my emotions in check and I must open my mouth to breathe in. The dryness in my chest is hard to soothe and I have to take a break from writing this.
After my grandmother's passing, I took a long hiatus from writing. Sometimes I write short excerpts and jot down my ideas but nothing truly solid has been developed. I did at one point dive back into the sequel for Ice Phoenix and I have gotten through 15 chapters at least but I am unsatisfied simply because I don't know which character I should focus the beginning of the story on. So I am attempting a new beginning. Hopefully I will be able to maintain my rhythm and not falter.
Over and out.