Letter number one hundred and thirty-six: a day in my parents' life in KL

Dearest J, 

I'm in much better shape today - mind and body.  Alive, and have things to live for.  It's not perfect but I'm relatively happy today.  

...so glad the dark clouds have blown over for now.

As usual, I sat by the dining table after I finish eating, and let mom have her airtime, to just talk.  I didn't see them at lunch, I cooked some dishes for dinner and asked them to come up to eat together.

Mom told me her morning routine.  Things she does every morning.  It sounds lovely, I think routines are wonderful.  The first thing she does after getting out of bed - washing her hands.  Then she cleans her dentures, puts them on.  Washes her face next.  She takes the milk out of the fridge, reheats it over the stove, sometimes she takes hot water and makes her oats, with the milk inside, sometimes not with the oats.  The milk is a new thing for her in the past month.  Using the gas stove is something I'm proud of for her - she was petrified to use it at first.  Things come to her in her own time, when she is not being pushed.  I'm glad. 

Then she will spread butter over a slice or two of bread, she would spread peanut butter for dad too.  But on some days he'd skips the bread.  He always have two soft eggs for breakfast, and a mug of rolled oats.  She spreads the butter over bread, and cuts them delicately into six pieces...or is it four pieces, per slice.  She takes all of that to the dining table, she says a prayer before she starts her breakfast.  She said dad too say his prayer before he eats.  Giving thanks to the food they're having.  Such a moving thing to know right?  

After breakfast she hopes to go toilet.  She told me she even have a silent monologue, or a quiet pep talk - to her stomach..or to the toilet.  She said she would talk to her stomach, "You've had bread, milk and oats - that's a lot to eat, so now it's time for you to behave and let me poop.  Let's make it smooth."

She said dad too prays for his smooth bowel movement.  These are both amusing and poignant to hear. 

After that she would move around the apartment, exercising.  She has her version of a cycling movement exercise - seated on a chair and make cycling movement with her legs.

"After that what do you do?" 

"I would sit around, wait for updates about lunch - wait for your text message to inform us about lunch plans."

I asked her what does she do after lunch.  She naps.  

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No doubt, self-inflicted guilt is a real issue for me - I feel I'm on a treadmill of a workout.  The workout is taking care of parents.  How much have I clocked in and all that.  Like many other things - I am aware most of my problems are self-inflicted.  

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With parents, my emotions are a pendulum.  I go from feeling annoyed, to being grateful for having them near and I can have a part in being useful to them, to feeling stressed about their problems, to sheer bliss of just enjoying their company - the kind that is much different from being with my friends where I absorb knowledge and exchange ideas and inspirations.  With parents, I just be.  I might not share much with them, but I just be.

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I hope I write more to you.  Making this a more regular routine, and an outlet of therapy for me.

Talk soon.

Love, 

B 

Letters number one hundred and thirty-five: Ten years ago today

Dearest J, 

Before the day is out, to make a note, to make a scribble of something on the timeline, of another moment in time.

It has not been an easy day.  A day shrouded in pain in more ways than one.  

The pinched nerve on my upper back, persistent and stubborn.  The hangover migraine from last night's drinking on empty-stomach after my show with Cher Siang at The Curiosity.  Yet another episode of lip-swelling, felt like the worst of all cases so far.

And the pain of missing you.

It's starting to blur - the shape and touch of missing you - of what is it that I am missing.  

I gave myself a few moments of good crying today.  It's been a while since I just sit here and concentrate on missing you. 

The body is stinging from a fatigue of stress, overthinking, overdoing, inflammation, and all forms of personal hell.   Typing these out is a horrendous sight to my eyes but I want to document this.  This too shall pass. 

I guess the hollowing fact that this is ten-year mark of your departure is weighing down on me.  Painful as it is, I need to allow the emotion to pass through me.  The weight of sadness eats into my flesh, and the throbbing of my pinched nerve is a literal message of the pain.

Believe me, telling you all these is far from fun.  Like I said, I want to document this moment in my personal history.  

Could not bring myself to see anyone from your family today.  I stayed away.  Your mom told me there was going to be a picnic at the columbrian.  

I peeled myself from the bed at 920am to a breakfast at Wild Yeast Bakery, to meet with those who wanted to be with me this morning.  Went to bed past 3am, I was drunk beyond my realisation.  When I cannot recall how I got into bed then, I knew how bad it was last night.

I should continue another time.  I need to physically remove myself from this screen and attempt some form of rest - although resting can sometimes be a challenge, but try I must.

Today came and, going off.  I am tired, but keep living I will.

Just let me wallow a little today.  I promise I will get up and get going tomorrow....or when I am done resting just a little.

Yours, 

B