Sunday, February 27, 2011

the luckiest of the bad luckers

I lay next to her this evening, just watching her sleep. Such peace, such beauty.

My children had gone through a lot. I sometimes wonder how they cope. I've never not had a father. My dad is still very active and I must admit, at most times forget that his children have all grown up. He is still telling us what to do and claims that he is always right. As an adult, it makes me feel insulted that my life is not respected and the decisions I make are ridiculed. He even puts on the guilt play making me choose between him and my decisions. Of course, he wins. I am his little girl and I can never live with myself with him upset. Yes, that does make me angry. But he is my daddy and I am blessed to have him. My children do not have that. They cannot remember having the father in their lives. He died when they were so young.

So, I should feel very blessed that I am privileged to have grown up with a father, a mother, brothers and sisters. I am blessed to have been married. I am blessed to have had children. I am blessed to have a job, to have health (just not today), to have met MS and to have potential for happiness.

Through all the bad luck that I have had, I think I am the luckiest.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Eleven-teen already?

Mind and body on strike today. Over-worked and over stressed results in shut down of all system. I do really need a system reboot.

So, the week ended with a snotty nose, sore throat, watery eyes, bouts of sneezes and a temperature to warm things up.

To my little princess, I'm sorry for being a bum bum head on your birthday. I know it is not everyday that one turns 11. But we'll plan something next week. Umi is just really tired today.

But we did have cake, the presents and the traditional sit down on the couch as I retold her the story of her birth. She particularly liked the egg tart fart bit..... Thank you to my sister who bought me egg tarts the night before.

And for her daddy, we said our doas. He would have been so proud to see his little girl blossom. Yes, she is a handful, but I wouldn't want it any less. We did good (and still are).

Saturday, February 5, 2011

What does music mean to you?

I love my music.

I love playing it.

I love singing it.

I love listening to it.


I like the music I listen to because it relaxes me. I don't want it to be heavy, depressing, too loud or too abstract.

I love stories in my music.

But most of all, the music I listen to reflects the stories surrounding the time the music was around. When it was playing 75 times a day on the radio, the memories that goes along with it. It isn't just the music. It's the people I was around when the music was playing. It was what I associated myself with when the music was playing. So, excuse me for the real passionate music enthusiasm out there, I love listening to Westlife and Ronan Keeting because you used to laugh at it. The music brings back your laughter. I love the predictability of the music because you thought it was crap. I love the way we used to make up our own lyrics and sing in the car when the boys were on air. I love the memory of our first born humming a boyzone song before he could even talk.

That music relaxes me. I don't have to think while listening to it because, lets face it, you don't need much grey matter for that kind of music. It also leaves my mind free to go back to my favourite places and hear him again.

Weird as it may sound, the fact that it ticked him off makes me like it even more.

stop to breath

Occasionally, we need to just pull back and take that much needed breather.

That time happened to me about 3 years after his passing. Overwhelmed by all around me, I needed a little time away from it all. It was after the initial phase of shock, disbelieve, denial and trying to bog myself down with work and study. It took me 3 years to realise that I was in a mess and the tangles brought the kids in with me.

We packed up our bags and we left. We left everything and got on a plane and flew far away. However, we did go back to a place I was familiar with. The place where I had met him.

We got ourselves sorted in that 1 year away. We managed to see things clearer. We also managed to have some closure. I think it was a form of escapism, but that's ok. Escaping from things to survive is always good in my books.

We came back fresh. We came back stronger than ever. It was the best decision I had ever made.