I came home, ten to twelve, and I began to cry. My cat greeted me and showered me with affection. I've been gone the entire day, she must miss me much. I couldn't help but cry when I saw her. It's been such a long day at work and trying to keep emotions at bay after a very vivid dream. And everything culminated with the three hour opera I sat through. To top it off, I went to help an "auntie" with something, and we suddenly started talking about family and loss...
She said even after all these years, she still thinks and misses her parents. She said sometimes sitting in the metro, she imagines the parents here and being able to give them a better life here. But that could never be. Even after so many years, she still falls sad and cries. And how long has it only been for me?
No, it's not that I dwell and I linger and wallow in pain and grief. I don't. I get up, try to go about my day, hope to work and be productive, but then everything just falls flat. My mood, my energy levels, my motivation, my drive, my life force... all just deflates, without reason, without warning. What is the purpose of doing all these mundane things? Where is the meaning behind anything? Why live if there is no one to live with you, to share with you in your pains and joys, your triumphs and failings? Life loses meaning after loss, and it is hard, so very hard to find meaning and yourself again. It is hard, the auntie said to me, because she knows and understands. And hearing her say that she knows made me cry...
She reminded me of what mum said to her when they met back in 2010. Mum's greatest worry was me, not my brother because he's got a family now, but me. I'm "weak", in the sense that I'm sentimental and easily affected by what others say...
Today was a prime example. I bought a new phone, something I've been planning to do for over a year, a brand I've been eying for even longer. A beautifully made and very functional HTC One, that according to the reviews gets higher ratings than anything Apple or Samsung has been able to bring out (or rehash...). I posted a picture of my new phone online, within a short time my brother commented all outraged that I bought the phone without consulting him and making me like I'm a fool for buying something substandard when there are (according to him) so many other better ones out there.
We've not spoken in three weeks. I never receive a word of encouragement when I am doing something challenging, like that ride for cancer or when I'm slaving for my exams. I do not receive any words of concern when I post sad songs or pictures that capture my mood and sentiments. Not even a thank you from my own brother when I bought a very special (and pricey....!) gift for my nephew for his second birthday. And yet when I post a picture of a phone that I'm personally proud of because it's my personal (and I believe informed...) choice, and made in the very country of my birth (instead of in China where people are paid peanuts and working standards are sub-standard...), I suddenly receive word from him.
It made me so sad to read that message, and I felt like answering or deleting it. But in a way, it shows to the public the relationship we have. Guess I definitely will not be spending Christmas and all that end of the/new year hype with family.
But I cannot be too hard on him, and should probably reflect on myself... being too gullible, being too hopeful and dreamy about how my family would be after both parents are now gone. I never really wanted to heed the message when people told me that we have split up now, that he has his family, and that I have...well, me. For so long, I thought we could be there for one another, support one another and be encouraging for one another as we both deal with loss and grief. Maybe he's hurting in his own way, maybe he's suppressing all his emotions. Despite all I've written, I do care about my brother, do think of him and his family often... And perhaps I am being unfair because I expect too much and am only setting myself to get hurt and to cry.
Cry because I know and am reminded again life will never ever be the same again, and that, like that note I wrote to myself upon my return to Canada last September and stuck to the kitchen cabinet door, I am on my own now.
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