where thoughts materialise.

So we're into the sixth version of my blog after the last version hung around for a year or so.

Now, a bit of info on this image. This photo was taken one lovely spring afternoon, featuring the iconic Old Well from the UNC Chapel Hill campus. I would like to think of this image as a tribute to my time in UNC Chapel Hill, the awesome friends I made and the memories I now hold dear.

A milestone in my life indeed.

I've dropped the tagboard cos its useless and taking eons to load. But thanks to Angela who helped me set it up, I still do like and will miss the pink interface.

So yeah, it's the sixth one you fellas!

Yours.

27 April 2008

you know you miss my older entries

October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008

Sunday, July 15, 2007

I was looking through my archives when I chanced upon a poem I wrote when my grandma was first diagnosed with cancer. I didn't think I understood the extent of what I wrote then, how the horrible truth of losing my grandma would eventually actualize, and then become a past.

Morning, and coffee
You would ritually make.
I sit by and watch
Your gentle hands in motion.

We are but silly play-things at His feet.
How fragile our mortal existence seems.
Our frivolous fate at His disposal.
He who gives life, also takes it away.

Mourning, and coffin
We would ritually pray.
I sit by and watch
Your gentle hands at rest.

Then what after?
A memory, a legacy.
A still photo to remember your face.
Carnations annually.
- 11 January 2005

I clearly remember how I wrote this poem after having our weekly coffee one Saturday morning, lovingly made by my grandma, telling myself: Cherish this, there may not be more cups to come. On hindsight, this poem spoke only partial truths of what ensued. Definitely not carnations annually, but weekly. Frivolous and silly play things we are not, but precious creations in His sight.

Time, the merciless force I mentioned once, moves on as we fast approach the first anniversary of her passing. Ten and a half months seems at once, short yet the longest. Seems I just lost her, yet also seeming I've lost her forever. Knowing she is in a better place, yet aching always to know that she's gone. It is this ambivalence that puzzles me, which I've learnt, extends to much of life in general.

But the focus shouldn't really be on the process or the "then after"s, instead, centering on her - the life she led, the values she imparted and the love she selflessly gave. When my aunt spoke in her eulogy that my grandma is an amazing woman, I realised that I've never thought of her in that way before, simply because she made what so amazing seem so effortless and normal.

Well, loving genuinely and overflowingly should be normal, shouldn't it? We live in such dark times today that looking back, I now see how amazing she truly was, and still is in our hearts.

Always my pillar of strength and source of bountiful love, I will miss her unceasingly.

always

nimgnoy let the night fall at 4:32 PM

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