Grand unveiling

The setting was grand, with wooden staircases, carpeted walls, stone fireplaces, and a tall lit Christmas tree. We could not have asked for a more beautiful setting, the set for various movies including the Aviator, for the institute's annual Christmas reception.

This year, as in the past, it was held in conjunction with the 100th birthday of a well respected member of the air/space community. And it was this evening that the publication I have been preoccupied with and under pressure to publish was publicly unveiled...

Alumni and students and professors and professionals gathered around the professor. Though he looked so well for his age, he also looked very dazed, as for several years he has been suffering from the onset dementia. He was surrounded by his family members, even though flying in from overseas, and his grandchildren. Three generations all gathered to celebrate a milestone of a great scholar, philanthropist and who had such care and passion for the development of air/space affairs as well as for students who come to learn at the institute.

A lot of the time, his daughter knelt next to the great man and held his hand, "translating" what was happening around him, summarising the speeches and words of congratulations into language the professor could understand. It was extremely touching. I also took the opportunity to introduce myself and shake his hand. It was such a great honour, it truly was, to be the editor in charge of a publication that is (partly) dedicated to this renowned and respected man whose life and work coincided with the beginnings and thriving development of aerospace as an activity and as a study.

My boss gave me some credit and there was a round of applause for my achievement. I smiled and nodded, and felt embarrassed. Should I feel proud? What should I be feeling? I smiled, but inside was this hollowness, this void. It has been a tough struggle, countless hours of work night and day to pull it off and get the publication to press in time. I cannot complain, because as I was told "this is what working life feels like". I stood there, saw the crowd of a hundred or so gather and applaud, and I felt so empty.

Later the moment I walked through the door of my apartment, I would be overwhelmed with sadness and aching. Why do I feel so much? Why do I associate events so much with the past? This night, a night I should be proud of myself, a night my parents would be proud of me perhaps, felt so empty.

I cried.

It felt like the moment I received a standing ovation and recognition for the work I did organising a competition in the Great Hall of Justice of the Peace Palace. The grandeur of the surroundings, the people cheering and applauding did not, could not, take away the ache I felt at the painful absence of my dad. And tonight, I felt doubly that loneliness, that emptiness because of the absence of both my mum and dad...

Earlier in the evening, I had a long heart to heart conversation with the wife of my professor. She shared with me the pain she felt from the loss of her mum some thirty years ago. As she spoke, even thirty years on, she could not hide her tears. For ten years, she dared not visit her old family home. In fact, for ten years, she could not bear to return to her country of origin. It was too painful, too much to handle... It took her ten years for her to muster the courage to visit, and by that time it was with her child. But even then it was difficult... She patted me on the arm and said to me "I understand, I understand..." and urged me to find friends who can understand and be supportive.  "Loss is so very difficult," she said, "Even after so long."

Mum, dad... if you are out there looking at me frantically typing alone on the floor of my bedroom.
I hope I have done you proud.

How I wished I could tell you both in person what happened tonight, how they applauded and congratulated me on my achievement.

How without you this achievement feels so empty and meaningless...

I am sorry I am crying...

another dream

Another dream left me crying and longing for mum... There was something with flying, and at some point someone said the line "reason to live, reason to go on living..."

 The details have disappeared now after waking up and sobbing and hiding under the covers that eventually made me fall asleep again. It seems sleep is my escape these days, my escape from the world and escape from thinking and anxieties... But sleeping makes me dream, makes my longings and fears appear that torture me in my waking moments. This is such an unhealthy vicious cycle I cannot get out of.

must get out of bed and try to make myself smile.

ex's birthday...

Just wrote a message to the ex. It's his birthday today. There was a time when he would be here with me at the stroke of midnight... when he would fall asleep and wake up next to me. But it is all so quiet here. Same bed, same apartment, some old stuffed animals lying around. Same me, filled with the same old undying sentiments... where is he now? Does he still remember? Would anyone still remember the old days when you are in the embrace and showered by the affection of a new someone?

Probably not. why would anyone torture themselves with sadness and the past after moving on? Why would anyone look back at the unpleasantries and shouting when they have made a choice?

And what am I doing? Still dreaming, still getting worked up about someone who is history... I wrote him a message wishing him all the best of happiness and joy, hoping that someone else can give him more than I was ever able to give him. That is the greatest gift I can give an ex. The only gift I can give someone is my blessings.

It does not matter I am still languishing with feelings, fighting bitter, bitter loneliness and still trying to mend.

I need to drink something or take some sleeping aid so I can be knocked out and fall asleep. I dread this will be a long, long and torturous night. Another long and painful night in bed.