The Indelible Imprint.

I heard your voice break when you said,
'Well, I hope you're happy'
Nothing to say, I stared straight into my coffee
Then the conversation changed and we talked around the blame
And the pain of losing all
All of the good times lost, all the good times lost

And I know I never told you, that I love you
Now it's all too late
And I don't know how to hold you, but I want to

[Ben Montague - Broken]

Nutshells.

1. God, you know what I truly wish and yearn for.
Though I did regret it—I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while— 9yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. 10Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. 11See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter. [2 Corinthians 7:8-11]
2. Is it Time, again?
And now, my daughter, don't be afraid. I will do for you all you ask. All my fellow townsmen know that you are a woman of noble character. [Ruth 3:11]
3. Of which to choose, God?
There wasn't any verse for this, for the entire chapter encompassed The Name.

32.

32 years of love, showered by none other than my uncle before he passed away in the fall of 2011.

As I never had much affinity with my dad, Koo was my father figure, and rightfully so. He wielded (some) political prowess, was a leader in all aspects of his life and more importantly, he was a Giver - of love and charity.

Hundreds of strangers globally have been blessed by his existence as Koo channelled his very own funds to them and each letter would be handwritten, often spanning across pages. He loved to read, and thus, he would send books to the unfortunate frequently.

Money was transient and he had much to spare. This spirit of generosity and love rang true within the home too. I was never deprived monetarily and could have anything I wanted. There was a condition - it had to be educational. Often, I'd try to weasel a random item or two into the list and some friendly verbal sparring would ensue. He'd wag his finger in a mock chiding manner and 'complain' to Mum, "Your daughter....such a swindler...." while laughing uncontrollably at my justifications as I flailed my arms, "But Koo, magazines do contain words and words formulate sentences. There's much to wax lyrical, right?" Such incidents were rife and in a way, it led to a love for debates and argumentative essays. Heh!

A stoic figure, he wasn't the type to blow his own trumpet and many good works went unnoticed even to us, until his death, when scores of strangers turned up at his bereavement, each with a tale to tell about how he'd helped them. Some political figures and a former Justice even appeared.

In short, Koo was an awesome role model.

He would have been 78 today.

Happy Birthday in heaven, Koo.

I miss you so, so much. :'(

Someday.

Someday
I’d like
To take a walk with you
Maybe ride our bikes down by the sea side
And watch the sun going down
Going down

{ Ray LaMontagne - Meg White }

Soldier On!

Phase 2 is going well.

Goal #1 is transpiring into reality.

If all goes as planned, Goal #2 will kickstart soon after Goal #1.

I don't intend to lead my life with regrets arising from fear.

And this, will apply to my personal affairs as well.

你的承诺， 我的期待。
就要来临，卷土重来。

=)

Sing A Song, My Lil Heart.

A gentle whisper,
A lilt in my heart.

有多么的爱，就有多么的痛。
有多么的失落，就会有多么的希望。
有多么的泪，就会有多么的快乐。

=)

A Minor.

He says, "Son, can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes."

Sing us a song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us all feelin' alright

Billy Joel - Piano Man

Hide & Seek

Hide, so that others won't see
A figure of diminished fraility.
Lie, so that all is still,
Lace each step with grit and will.
Poised with a smile for one and all,
Betray no emotion till the curtains fall.
Dance as if there's no tomorrow,
Seek thereafter to contain one's sorrow.

Drip, Drip, Drip.

W H Y ?

An Analogy.

Deliberating between the hues of red and salmon, I was in a pickle. With both colours in my shopping cart, the dilemma was of consequence to only myself.

Red made my heart sing while salmon was the right choice for practicality and versatility.

45 minutes went by and eventually, I decided to go with my heart.

By then, the red blazer had been sold out. And so, I settled for the blazer in salmon instead.

I'd waited far too long to follow my heart; much time was frittered on rationalizing the merits of the other hue, though it was not what I'd truly wanted. I was too late in making the right choice.

Sounds familiar?

What a fitting parallel to Life's other decisions.

Amazing.

Baby, I'm Amazed By You. =)

In A While.

夜长梦多.

Tulles.

Every now and then, I allow myself a little cry.

It washes away my innate sorrow and realigns my state of being.

This manifests as I flagrantly disregard the whirrs around me.

I had a dream today.
It was my birthday and guests flocked onto the yacht for this celebratory moment. In my wedding dress, I scanned the crowd for a singular face. I found You. We spent time together. Sunset beckoned and the day drew to a close. When I awoke, You were gone. The context of my dreams is consistently congruent with what I've been repressing all these years. (Aside : Ha! Some alliteration, eh?) 

I want to start over. I really do. 

I've become painfully introverted, a far cry from what I used to be.

But how do I? When.....there's You?

'I wanna grow old with You.
I wanna die lying in your arms.'

My Past - Has It Passed?

"Do not let your past hinder your walk with God."

While these words were pounded into my subconscious by Ps D. F00, she appeared as if on cue. Thereafter, (yet another) she melded my innate gnashes, drowning out D's voice and averted my attention, if only for a while.

The Place has come to be synonymous with Pain & Grief as familial (and familiar) notions grate and flesh before my eyes.

It wasn't like this before, well, that.

I used to participate in plays, performances, Bible quizzes, camps and what-have-yous. Well, sometimes I'd even anticipate my victory way before the results (after sussing out the identities of the judges....Heh..) Vivacious and spritely, I was zealous and passionate. I was the star of The Place, the apple of every teacher's eye.

Adulthood arrived and this fervour soon took a dip. It waned, if ever so slightly. Participation was, however, prosaic. I had become The Spectator.

This Spectator watched and One caught her eye. Had she known how each random, cursory glance would have determined the future, she would have fixed her gaze on the cold, stony tiles. Certainly, they would have not stirred the frailty which was her heart. It would not have led to entwined paths.

In recent years, she's been told that her "countenance has dimmed", her "sparkle has waned" and other vocalisations of what others deemed to be her sadness.

I do wish to be That Little Child again - the one with a cheeky twinkle in her eye, the one who would spontaneously volunteer for every activity, the one with the great desire to please You, God.

I was once voted Outstanding Sunday School student every single year, Lord.

Make me Outstanding in Your eyes, again.

Take away the Pain that has come to grip me whenever the images of those register in my faculty of mind at The Place.

Because Everybody knows Everyone, I've become accustomed to fleeing once the gong strikes and blending into the background lest It comes to light.

I'm hanging up my running shoes, God.

Let me take flight.

Guide me on angels' wings.

Find rest, my soul.

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Present Tense.

Present Tense.

A Slate of Grey.

Disillusionment sets in when one is devoid of emotion.

Within this barren enclave, there is nary a stir.

Depleted of involuntary flutters, skips, scuttles and such, it is a repository at best -

A spectre of sorts, to say the least.

Pathos embellishes and dresses to leave in haste.

Intensity gives way to gurgles and then, the contents of inertia pleasantly jingle.