Things to remember 

Writing this as I fly somewhere in between London and Singapore, almost halfway. I’m more than halfway through my course and year away; submitting my final assignments for the term just past reminds me of that ever more so. Now I’m just left with my dissertation and pieces of a new life to fit back in with the old.

When people ask me if the year has met my expectations, I don’t quite know what to say, because I’m not sure what expectations I had. But I know for sure that I’m very very thankful for this year, and that it has filled me in ways that I otherwise would not have experienced. For one, it gave me the time I really needed to slow down. It occured to me somewhere along the way that I used to be nervous about flying partly because the idea of being stuck in a small space somewhere high above ground for so long was somewhat unnerving. But for the first time, I quite looked forward to my flight today, and am quite enjoying the time to be disconnected. Having plenty of leg room and nobody else in my room (or my vicinity, hardly really) also help I guess. But simply being comfortable enough with time, with inactivity, with silence, with stillness and slowness took me a long time. 

I’m glad too for the loneliness. I think I’ve always prided myself in being happy to be alone or comfortable with solitude, but I never realised how attached I was to those closest to me, and how I was never really alone. In fact, the only times I remember that I’ve been as alone as I feel now were probably also those two times that I got panic attacks. I probably haven’t talked about loneliness this much too, until these few weeks. Perhaps because V was so ready and open in talking about her pangs of loneliness, but it occured to me this week that I probably only very recently admitted that loneliness to myself. And it is not scary anymore, and even if it’s still sad sometimes, it’s a good thing to be certain of God’s presence and to find that it is enough; it is also answer to a long-prayed prayer. May I never forget. And may the second part of the prayer — to still open my heart to people — also be answered in time.

This past rail trip has also been most memorable, and, for want of a better word, remembering. Part of me was tracing my mother’s footsteps; perhaps I’d been doing that since Paris, and it was quite nice to think about where she has been and what she would have loved as I went through a tiny bit of Europe. She would have loved the Rhine cruise; she would have wanted to know that the two paintings stolen from the Van Gogh Museum have been restored; she would have loved the food; she would show me what liked best about Keukenhof. She would have been immensely immensely grateful — for opportunities, for people, for new learning, for life. And when I watched Lion King yesterday it was also to trace a path she had tread in. The last pre-illness memory i have was meeting her and Y at Marina Bay Sands after they watched Lion King. We went to a fancy rooftop restaurant for dinner to celebrate her birthday, and she stayed over that night. But there was already an undertone of unease; she seemed to be really tired, and in my memory, her tummy area looked a little  bloated by then. I wonder if it was the same trip that I had watched her go to the bus stop to make her way home from Guok, and I sat at the window of what became her room and waved at her, and said goodbye, thinking how our goodbyes had changed from her waving me off from Skudai to me waving her off from Guok.

So when Lion King began and ended with Circle of Life, I guess it was some…poetic justice? Not exactly comfort, because comfort comes from her being with Christ, but some poetic justice seemed right too. 

One evening last week, as I reached the end of two weeks of struggling to write and battle emotions and thoughts, a realisation came upon me that never quite surfaced so clearly before. Near the end we were seeing a palliative care doctor who would tell mummy to do things to look forward to the future. Plan things to do with her imminent granddaughter, write recipes/a book, make notes for her granddaughter etc. I got her scrapbook stuff enough to get me a Paperchase membership. But she didn’t seem to want to get down to it. I didn’t want to push it, but just said well there are these small cards if you ever wanna write anything. It wasn’t till that last weekend, when she suddenly felt poorly after a good morning and her blood pressure was too low to be measured, that she finally asked for one of them cards. “拿一张来咯.” Then she wrote the only card Beth has from her, which stated the most important thing that was already true then: “Dear baby, Grandma love you.” That was probably when she knew it was time. And until that point, she had still been fighting. She didn’t want to write any notes or cards because she didn’t want to have to. She wanted to see the baby, carry her, and talk to her herself. It was only when she was certain she couldn’t that she would write.

So at the end of the day, what I was thinking about at the start of this post was also that I’m back full circle. I went away looking forward to leaving everything and everyone behind, and finally being alone. I was alone, perhaps more alone than I’d expected, but at the same time I also realised that things and people follow me. I follow me. I’m changed in some ways maybe, but there are many bits of me that don’t change anymore. And that’s okay. When I go back, even this time, I hope I’m also more okay with whom I have and whom I don’t. That I’m okay with what I find myself in and with, and that I can be grateful, and then happy. That I can be committed to those committed to me by God, and that I can be ever more rooted and grounded in Him, immovable, steadfast. Then perhaps one day also abounding, and filled with the fullness of His joy.