July 18, 2011

Houston, We have a lil' problem.

And the problem right now is that I can't seem to get some decent shut eye.

I don't know what it is. It most definitely isn't coffee because I consumed none. It most definitely isn't the curry I made for dinner (which was delish, if I may say so myself heeheeh). If anything, that curry should've made me sleepier.

But it's not.

So, it's got to be that hour-long nap I took this afternoon, seeing that I was fasting and could not get myself some lunch, for obvious reasons.

At times like these, I get all nostalgic. Or reflective. Sometimes even morbid. About the many things that happen in my life daily.

I don't get nostalgic about anything in particular. But most times, when I scrutinize my thoughts, it's always about my pre-wedding drama and on a happier note, Perth. I just realised that I have not finished off Autumn in Love posts proper. But that's probably something you don't really want to read about anymore?

At times like these, I also think of the bundle of work I have to deal with day in, day out. It's true that I love my job. It's also true that I get depressed when my brain is left idle, unused and unappreciated. But I have never felt so swamped in my whole life.

LLB Honours was a different story altogether. At that time, I was in a long distance relationship, lived on my own with my good friends and had no commitments. Oh, no. Don't get me wrong, I love being married. But there are times when I think I can no longer juggle as well as I thought I would.

But nonetheless, I'd give myself a pat on the back for effort. For the food I put on the table almost daily, no matter how tired I get. Because nothing can beat my husband saying, "Thank you for the food, Love" at the end of a long day.

At times like these, I also wonder what I would do if I lost the people I love. A very dear friend of mine recently lost her mother. I tell her it'll be alright, but would I be alright if I were in her shoes? I bet I wouldn't be so strong.

Death changes our perspective about the people we still have with us - who are alive and kicking. Looking at my friend's sorrow, I knew thenceforth that I didn't want to do anything that would make me regret when Allah took my parents away.

In that respect, I want to be exactly like my Father, who only cried when he had to perform the final rites of putting his mother into the grave. Thereafter, he acted like nothing ever happened.

When we asked him, he told us, "There is no point in crying. She is gone. Plus, where Mama (my late grandma) is concerned, I have no regrets. I have done everything in my power to make her happy. I have done everything to make sure she doesn't worry. I tell her whenever I am going off somewhere, even when I was already married with kids. I have no regrets with her"

We were obviously rendered speechless.

I try my best these days to do what my Father did. As much as they smother me, still. I know that they can't help it. They can't help it if they still check on me. They can't help it if they buy 2 sets of groceries when they go out shopping. They can't help it if they consider bringing me on their overseas trips (this one I super like!), just so I don't lose the feeling of being their "girl".

After all, what are parents to do when their child leaves their nest empty?

I like the phrase "regret has no rewind button". Because it's true that no matter how many times you replay how you should have done things, it can never be undone.

And to my dearest strong friend, you know that you have all the right to take all the time in the world to heal. People move on, and so will you. Like everything else, this too, shall pass. But no one should ever tell you how fast.

Al-fatihah.


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