Who do you see when you look into any reflective surfaces? Many times, of course yourself but do you ever find that at different times of the day you actually don't look like you? Perhaps the hair is parted differently, or your eyes seemed a little more puffed than 5 hours ago? Maybe it was the itch that left your left ear slightly red from the scratch..
For me, I see a different side of me each day. The stereotyped "can't be bothered" Desmond, the "I am tired and need to rest" Desmond, the "what am I doing here" Desmond... the list goes on. Similarly in life, the people in our lives are mirrors, or at least, reflective surfaces. They see a bit of us, perhaps only a side or two... some privileged ones see a few more sides, the "morning-oh-so-ugly" side, the "I-go-crazy-at-the-club" side and perhaps, the "I-am-upset-and-emo" side... same, the list goes on. What I'm trying to say here is, it's all these small small bits and pieces of life that make us US. When people ask for a self-introduction, how do we, and what do we tell them? What constitutes us? I'm not too sure myself as if I tell them I'm a reserved, quiet and down to earth person, I cannot forget that at times, I get so loud and unbashful about things in life. If I say that I'm loud and the joker-wanna-be, I cannot ignore the passive and can't be bothered me.
Myself, as a mirror of others, I see bits and pieces of my friends, of my siblings, my parents... and last night. I saw someone in my dream that sadly, I could not see again.
I don't know what led to me having such a dream, a good, and yet bad dream all in the same stride. Couldn't recall the beginning of the dream, but the main event that took place in it was the death of my paternal grandma. I've never seen my grandpas before. Both of them passed away before I was born. My maternal granny passed away 19 years ago. I was P1 then. I had vague memories of her... but I knew she doted on me. My paternal granny on the other hand, passed away 15 years ago. I was 11 then. I knew more, had more time with her, shared more memories with her... the new years that we spend visiting her at my uncle's place, and seeing her aging and becoming more frail as the years go by and as her grand children growing up and finding their place in the world... it did not occur to me that she will leave. Then again, she moved on. I was depressed. Yet at the same time, I treasured the time at the funeral. It was a family gathering. A time where my cousins and I ate together, prayed together, and even played together.
15 years have passed and I'ven't had anything that remind me of my maternal granny. Last time, I revisited the scene. This time, she passed away again. This time, I'm not longer 11 but 26 instead. I am sure she would be proud that I am finally a local University Graduate. I remember saying to my parents during the funeral, looking through the obituary and my relatives' names... running my tiny finger down the list and saying..."no ... no.... no .... Mummy, all of them never graduate from local university".. I want to be the one who make you proud. The one who will make us, as a family proud, that we have three local graduates of the Ee Family. My granny would be proud of me to know that I made it. Maybe that was why she resurfaced in my memory. When she last saw me, I was nothing more than a pre-teen. Someone unaware of how the world out there revolves... This time round, I'm half an adult, stepping into the world. I don't know much about her, and she didn't know much about me. We never had much chances of interacting anymore. But somehow, I know, she feels my joy, my relief, my pride and all that came along with my commencement. I know my parents feel the same. I know my siblings feel the same too.
Thus, it really didn't matter to me that my friends were not there. Somehow, I knew that it was the highlight of the day. It was about them being there. It was my day. A day I begin to really look back at what brought me thus far and what drives me to go further. They say the end point doesn't matter, but the journey. I took wrong turns and wasted time en route. I gained, and I lost. In the end, I got here. People may not be there anymore, but it's the memories that stay. It's the memories of them that you retain and recreate that make them there again.
I teared in my dreams, I felt the sadness of 15 years ago. This time, it was worse. I woke up, let my tears flowed off my cheeks onto my pillow, and another stream. Might as well let it all go while I was given the chance. Wondered why this happened at this time when I really haven't been thinking about things like that. Nothing in particular sparked off such thoughts and definitely nothing in particular drew back memories of my granny. Until my commencement perhaps. I would say that I never really grew up in an environment that I know people very well, and have someone whom I can call mine. I was and am not possessive, knowing that the more you hold onto someone, something. The faster you lose that person, and when you do. The more it hurts. This leads to my nonchalant behavior, or at least I would excuse myself that way. MY granny.. how much can I call her mine when I barely reflected a segment of her life? How much can she claim to know me when she really didn't know much?
It's all so fuzzy in life that at times, we give up trying to find out how we are all in relation to one another. For one, I know the coming days are a fresh start, and I need to start paving my own route again to the ultimate end. I don't know how many more times I am going to cry in my sleep. So far I've done so twice. Once when I was young (perhaps 8 or 9?) and once... last night. Each time perhaps, they reveal my insecurities of my life that only I know of. I wouldn't even say it's "for me to know and for you to find out" cos' truthfully, I'm not interested to know if you want to find out or not. It's my life, not yours. Whether you know it or not doesn't matter to me.
In the ultimate end, we are still going to be alone. When our time is done and our presence is gone, what's left of us? What's going to be left are those fragments of our lives reflected by those around us who once experienced how brilliantly it shone. That's why they have "a few words" segment in funerals to share with everyone how the deceased was.
I'm not thinking about, or even planning death. Just a random blog entry after a very random, emotion-evoking dream.
Tomorrow, I'll wake up being the same "old" me. Which old? I'll decide again =)
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