It's time...

Mortality. It's not a common topic to be discussed, especially so openly within a conservative community. It needs to be ingrained in tradition and culture before it can fully be embraced. But before it can be accepted at such a large scale, it needs to be understood at the smallest scale possible, ourselves. 

And time. Have you ever pondered your life as a series of film reels? And then wondered how you could possibly remember the things you experienced when you were 3 to suddenly break off from your dream-state to your office desk staring at a computer screen? The notion of time is almost invisible at this point. 

Time is immortal. Yet, our decaying bodies are not. I've never been so close to death, nor seen it, and truthfully, I probably wouldn't like to either. But as time passes by, slowly, slowly, us mortals will be swallowed by the earth and left behind as memories. It's even harder when we are suspended in time and mortality. Unable to leave and determine to stay. 

I'm sorry for the rather cryptic and confusing post. I'm merely trying to collect my own thoughts on what has been happening and what will happen, perhaps some time soon too. Everything's so sombre right now. I don't think I even have the time to comprehend that this is affecting my work life. But I think it is better to let go of the thoughts rather than bear the burden even longer.

My grandmother is currently not in the best state, physically. Psychologically, she is searching for something before letting go of this mortal world. We don't know what yet, but she is definitely clinging onto something. 

I heard of her situation not too long ago, but even then she was still physically able to move and talk and hold conversations albeit a little off topic and random. Oftentimes she would mistake one person for another, but at the very least she was still able to recollect from her memory banks. But yesterday, she suddenly took turn for the worse and couldn't speak nor wake up, the only things she could move were her fingers. And she looks perpetually asleep. 

I'm not physically where she is right now because I'm overseas but I think I'm comforted by the fact that most of her family members are there, especially her children. But I don't think I'll be able to see her when I go back for the holidays at the end of this year. 

And yet, I think I'm content with the idea. She has had a long and plentiful life. She has lived long enough to enjoy and give her two-cents. But she's still hanging on, for something, for someone. I just hope she finds that person/thing soon, because the idea of her lying there unable to wake up and let go of this world pains me more than knowing she has let herself go to a better place.

Let's hope she finds whatever she needs to find. And soon.

The Past Caught Up

This was essentially a story that I wrote when I was in high school as an exercise given by our teachers. I believe it was to sharpen our similes, metaphors and overall creative writing skills. And I'm happy to say it was a story that I was quite proud of. The only problem was I could remember the fundamentals of it but couldn't find the original so I rewrote this. I probably lack the same originality as the earlier version but I think it has the same spirit. In any case, enjoy. :)

The waves crashed loudly onto the side of the rocks. Down by the sandy beach the water swayed harshly back and forth. The wind is picking up, thought the lonely figure standing safely where the water cannot claw at him. 

The man looked on, onto the vast sea, the strong wind accompanied his gaze.

He stood for a long time. Remembering. Remembering the time before the decaying fences barricaded the edge where the sand meet the people. Remembering the time when everyone's favourite pastime was to lay on the golden dunes and embrace the warmth of the sun.

Remembering that one faithful day when he thought the world was against him and that Death whispered so closely in his ear.

That day, that wonderful day when the wind was none and the sun was friendly. And the waters, the waters were just heavenly to the touch. He pedalled and pedalled, on and on towards the distance, as the water touched his arms and the waves crashed against his young body he welcomed them all and waited for the biggest wave he can catch on his sturdy board.

But alas, no wave came but one cruel jerk, pulled him under as he hopelessly tried to cling onto the board. There was madness as he called for help, waved his hands violently, kicked and trashed to escape from whatever was holding onto him. In the distance he could see him. 

Brother! Help! The words formed in his mind, but he wasn't sure whether the voice came out of his mouth. I'm going to die, that was the only thing that ran through him. The hopelessness. 

The figure swam closer and closer. The water trashed even more than before. The wave crashed between the three figures. Limbs. Grey. Skin. Scale. Legs. Fins. He knew he could not stop moving. He kept kicking, punching at all cost. Regardless of what he kicked or punched. All he could see was just masses of limbs and hard scaly solid amongst the water. 

Soon enough he ran out of energy and the last thing he saw was sharp teeth and his brother and then blackness engulfed him. And that was the last thing he remembered of that day.

Now, the man edged forward as he noticed a small piece of wood lying amongst the sand. He picked it up and realised it was a part of a sign, the word 'beware' adorning it. He stared at it for a little while and a small smile came across his face. 

From behind him above the sandy beach on the paved road a car sounded its horn and he turned at the loud interruption. It was his brother calling him to get into the car. The man walked towards the road with the piece of wood clutched beside him and climbed out of the fence. As he was about to reach the car, he placed the board above another sign, straighten it, walked to the car and they drove away.

As he passed he glanced once more at the beach and the 'Beware of Sharks' sign and thought about it no more.