The lack of proper and undisturbed slumber is exuding from the bergs of my complexion. With Christmas, our Bangkok trip and the New Year approaching faster than I could type, I'm still hoping and wishing for you to be back - mentally, physically, emotionally, and perhaps spiritually.

It's been too long since I had my soulmate in his truest form - mine, and yours indefinitely.

"This is how you lose her.

 You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery store, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely. 

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention. She remembers when you forget. You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to. You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept. 

And, this is how you keep her."

Junot Diaz, This is How You Lose Her

I am older now, far much older than I wished I'd be. And sadder too - not the kind that fills your impulse with raw negative emotions, but the kind that becomes your skin. It is wrapped with the unfortunate infinite counts of subtle tragedies; the kind you stop remember it for its literal form but its dull spirit clings onto every purpose of your being; the kind of sadness that ruins any good leftover relationship.

I don't think this sadness will ever go away. It's been an unwanted companion of mine, for way too long. I don't know what else I am left to say or do.

Gong gong, it hurts that you have left. It hurts that I'll never get to even know you a little more. It hurts that I did not get to see you a last time. So amidst the tribulations I face, I'll be with you in spirit. I'll always keep the memories of you sneaking me to the phone to give my mum calls; the memories of you taking me to my mum's office to see her; of you taking me to macdonalds and making me a fat kid. I'll always remember you fondly, and will never perceive you by the person others make you out to be. May God always bless you and those whom you have loved. May God lift away your suffering and pain, and let you rest eternally in the arms of angels. May God give you the love no other human or family could ever give. May God accept the prayers of those who care. May God's grace and mercy be showered unto you.

Gong gong, I'd hope to be worthy of telling you that I love you, despite the times and memories we have missed out. I'm sorry for not being there, for not being insistent on finding you and seeing you. I'm sorry you left without me by your side to comfort you and tell you stories about our wonderful Jesus.

Rest in peace, Gong Gong. I love you.

Detach; breaking away. No turning back, ever.

God comforts me, everytime you hurt me, the man who bore me.

I'll always keep you in my prayers, but I'll never let you close enough to hurt me from here on.

Serene evening with the breeze sashaying through my curtains, with my Bible, and with the melodies of Sleeping At Last serenading my thoughts. I think God is here.

I don't say this aloud often, but I do love my God. He has given me the best life can ever offer - my family, my loving dog, my wonderful boyfriend of (coming) 3 years, my free-spirited children, my sincere colleagues and bosses, and the contentment that money could never afford. 

Thank you Lord, for taking good care of me. I know for sure, that the darkest of my days are long over. I love you my dearest Father. Thank you Lord, for loving me, when I couldn't.

"Never worry about anything; but tell God all your desires of every kind in prayer and petition shot through with gratitude, and the peace of God which is beyond our understanding will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers, let your minds be filled with everything that is true, everything that is honourable, everything that is upright and pure, everything that we love and admire -- with whatever is good and praiseworthy."

- Philippians 4:6-8

How cute is she after her trip to the groomer's?!

The blessings God grants us every day. Nothing short of content.

Night 2.

I miss my dad again tonight. Too tired for words. Will write another day.

I trust in You, Lord. I have been loved.

My last journey at #11-102. It's been a crazy ride but for all it's worth and no matter how bittersweet feelings may turn, God is with all of us (whether we're a literal believer or not). God is with my dad and my mum and us, and He has surely lifted what He felt wasn't necessary of a pain.

The wonderful memories sneaking back into my mind, they sometimes hold me back. But through this all, I know God has been with me come what may, and He has embraced my hurt and negative nostalgia.

I'm no longer at my old place. But my heart for a home will always be rooted in #11-102.

I love you Dad. I'm thankful you're still somewhat around so we have time to love each other still. I would really like to tell you personally, that I forgive you, because no other person love you more than your daughters. The past is behind me, although it still pains me to not be with you nearly as seldom as it used to be. I'll always be here. June will always be here. You will always be remembered endearingly to us and you will always have our love. Please don't ever become a stranger because I will try and try to be the best daughter I was made to be. I want and need to be in your life, so please don't ever exit. Lastly, and again, I love you Daddy. You've given me so much in my childhood and in my life to be thankful and happy about. You're one of God's greatest blessings to me. Don't ever give us up. I made meant and made to be your daughter and vice versa, you as my father. Thank you for life. Thank you for the joy. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me and with me. Thank you for being my daddy.

It was never the literal distance that kept us apart from one another. Perhaps all along, it was just the unsorted differences. It's nice to feel close(r) these days.

We'll keep it going, we'll be strong together, come what may.

3 more days.

Never in decades would I ever realize that I had taken such simple things for granted - peering down at Godma's, stealing peeks of void deck weddings from up here, holding little prayers in solitude as I gaze upon the darkened blankets of skies and feeling overwhelmed with contentment, taking dibs on calling out anyone who's returning home at the corridor, having my first phone calls with Ben as I hung my legs high up on the grill, the times I cried myself senselessly and took rest on my trusty couch for intimate time with God, carrying my pooch at the level of these windows whenever it rained (she loves watching the rain). So much of these memories happened here first. Bunking in with my mum the past 7 years, this was where my space of zen was.

I'll miss this forever.

Happy birthday, my dearest. Thank you for being the pride and joy of my life.

Today was beautiful, because you were in it. I am happy today because I made you happy today. For those few mere hours, I forgot to remember any ordeal at hand, because that's how happy you make me. This is why we've made it through 2.5 years strong.

It hurts so mightily tonight, it feels like my heart is being gorged out. Sleep will rob away the remains of time, to reminisce and grief and breathe my kind of content. And for that, sleep is my greatest enemy, one that does not fear me the way I do it. Every drift into the unconscious wastes more time that could be functioned for telepathic thoughts. Thinking and thoughts, on the other hand, have been my most loyal company. Nostalgia is fueling my recent obsesion for scraps of memories lurking in every inch of this house that now begins to haunt me. I believe this is the first time that I'm existing to regret, about something only time can tell. Above all, this wretched feeling hovers over me like possession. The feint lines between immense love and reluctance blend in together as I clench my unspoken prayers.

A miracle could save me. God, won't you save me?

I'm feeling the desperation to hold and cling onto whatever memory and opportunity to create memories of the time I'm counting down to giving up this beautiful (albeit dysfunctional) home. I've known broken and functional simultaneously all my years growing up here, so deeply that I'm truly afraid of moving on to a healthy and genuinely functional life ahead. This desperation is causing me sorrow, the sorrow irreplaceable with any other home I'll ever have. I revisit every corner of this home as much as I possibly can. I keep reassuring others of the better days ahead and yet I'm semi-uncertain/semi-certain if it stands as true as spoken of. The place doesn't make the love, but it's the love which makes the place. If so, why do so many fall into the grave blunder of not letting go of places.

Twenty six years and I have never felt my dad ever relenting to sorrow until this day. Standing in front of him sends me waves of a sadness never describable - the sadness God gets, the pain and loss of probable goodbye. His ability to experience sadness with regards to being permanently physically distant from us has, for the strangest of unknowing reasons, shown me his depths of sentimentalism toward us. The fear exuding inside-out of him was fragile and vulnerable; something I believed to never live long enough to witness. This fear I saw, it was precious and endearing.

Amidst this (I dare say) very painful and difficult ongoing phase, it has been comforting to know that this is not about to lead to another dark episode. Having Ben's love and support has provided me solace and strength. In strangest ways, I see and feel God and His Godliness in my sweetest soul mate. Never has either God or Ben given up on me and released me to any form of empty abyss, in which I'm largely grateful for. I know Ben tries, and God knows he does too.

Ben, for the times you feel you weren't able to comfort me right, you were wrong. Your love has been the greatest source of motivation and love these 2.5 years. I'm stubborn, although not apparently, but my stubbornness is deep-rooted and sometimes I appear to take you for granted. Nevertheless, thank you for always being here for me - for being happy when I am and for being sad when I am too. I never have to feel the familiar utter loneliness again, now that I have you from now forth. Thank you, for the endless sessions of having to console or reprimand me. More than often, I never thanked you enough. So I send my perpetual thankfulness in writing, so that you will always be able to read and remind yourself of the great things you have brought about in my days, and most importantly, of how happy you make me no matter how sad I may be. I love you always.

The elects of LOVE group has officially been baptised! We have Luke, June, Jasmine and Augustine. Easter Vigiil/Baptism has thus far been the highlight of my year.

Congratulations to all of you. And congratulations, especially to my sweetheart Benjamin Luke and June! I'm indeed overjoyed to be able to witness such a solemn and grand moment of your lives. I love you both very much.

People who think they really know me, really don't. I don't think anyone does. I guess I made it that way.

Mark the date!

News flash!

Ben and June are getting baptized this Saturday! That's clearly so much to celebrate and be joyous for! I still have yet to come up with gifts adequate enough for two baptisms.

God has been amazing, now all that's left to do is to be thankful.

Too many memories, in every page I try to recollect and preserve. Every circumstance and person appear questionable - of their intentions, of their truest worth, and of its hold in all of this collective ounce of me. Entirely opposite of being childlike, every move towards tomorrow marks a risk, and every picture represents a glimmer of subtle joy or tugging pain.

I was taken back along the many years of my childhood when I sprang visits to my grandmother during the past couple of days. For reasons that perhaps I'd never fathom, I yearned to be closer to her. I wanted and needed to make things up, for lost time and foolishness - things that don't justify in the system of choices and consequences, things that would doubt my loyalties in the eyes of many, things that would defy the world I was raised up in. Yet, a heartfelt and honest conversation was all it took to melt away any anger buried in me. I loved her, and I still do today, and will probably always love her, in my very feeble ways.

This was when I thought of my father - the man who betrayed my mother and ruined every member of this could-be wonderful family, the man who shirked every responsibility as a man to his wife, a family man who spent his days as a bachelor. But yet, my father, he loved me, like any other father. He gave me the happiest childhood I could want for, he gave me the bravery I lacked as a child, he passed on his guts and adventuresome outlook in life, he gave me commendable upbringing, and he gave me invaluable lessons. I couldn't have gotten here, this far with deep intakes on life without him. Alike my grandmother, I will always love my father, regardless.

So everyone's wretched. But without wretchedness, forgiveness wouldn't be all so divine, now would it?

It's just days away before we officially moved. I had to get down to packing. Too many clothes, too many books, too many albums, too many furniture, too many unnamed souls to have to leave behind.

I packed. I began with projects from my school days (and found multiple drawings that I lovingly crafted what seemed like so long ago), proceeded to filter out the books hoarded over 19 years, and hand-picked out photographs from every album dating since the 1960s. 26, and it still pained me. It pained me to know for sure that we were once happy together, altogether. It pained me knowing that happiness felt more real comparatively as to present. It pained me having to come to terms that it is going to take harder for happiness to suffice. What pained me most was having to bear the realization of everyone being jaded and separate from one another's lives as much as we are in it. But the pain was not the same this time. It was dull, and seemed distant. This time, it felt dull, like a spirit. The kind whereby you know it has co-existed with the years you wear on your back and has evolved into a spiritual memory, which you will keep only in only memory from here forth. Pictures will always be around and be passed around, yet the life inside of them has somehow ceased to live as evidently. It is nearly the kind of realization of knowing, that you're entirely alone in this world, and you'll always be okay alone.

But this change - it's a good thing, isn't it? And so I ask God everyday.

Many many things await. Some worthy to be exhilarated about, and some not. So the talk about shifting (for a many good years) is actualizing. My fondest and most downright painful memories, they'll all be swept into the little corners of this home I'll be leaving so far behind to recall someday. Tasks await my attention and I shouldn't leave much room for sentimentalism and emotions. This phase has this taken enough of a toll on all of us and the time has arrived for all of us to move on towards our pre-designed fates.

Everything happens for reasons, so they say.

Wow, I haven't even taken any time to re-visit this old friend of a space. Well, not until now at least. It has been a long time coming, and I'm ever-ready to return from the prolonged hiatus. So this is this, this is where the new beginnings happen in words. Here. It has been 3 months since my courage took over and I got down to quitting my job as a music teacher at T4K. It's shying towards a month since I've joined AKLTG (Adam Khoo Learning Technologies Group) as a trainer. The learning curve is indescribably steep this month but I must say I'm catching up well enough. How's everyone out there? I wonder.