Rules of the game

“That’s how love got lost. When we started laying down rules for when love should or shouldn’t appear.”

- The Zahir, Paulo Coelho

Remembering someone

Was invited to a birthday celebration yesterday, only that instead of singing a birthday song, we remembered him; instead of having wild, carefree laughters, there was an undercurrent of sadness and grief. It was Kang Fei’s birthday, and Uncle and Auntie Yu thought it would be a good day to remember him by.

Kang Fei succumbed to leukemia at 22 years old. His life was short, but it has been filled with love. It’s a pity, I didn’t know him until after his death.

Remembering him always began in the same fashion. We will be sitting with Uncle Yu, and Auntie will start the session rolling by calming the boisterous crowd by speaking a few words. She’s an educator, naturally, her voice has a certain firm, yet kind quality that holds your attention. She’ll invite someone close to Kang Fei to make a short speech.

Then there’ll be a short prayer, and they’ll sing a hymn. Very naturally, I’ll sing along without even needing to make an effort to remember the lyrics, for the four years of secondary school had those hymns etched in me already. They sing with so much love; sitting in the living room, you feel encapsulated in the hymn that they were singing, and you could feel the love radiating from their hearts.

Uncle Yu bowed his head as the prayer was said, and tears fell. His face crumbled as much as he tries to remain an unfaltering composure. And I realised, the pain from losing a child probably never leaves a parent, even though it’s been 2 years since his death.

But with his death, many relationships were born. Friends grew tighter, having been through the ordeal; Kang Fei’s closest friends became like god children to Uncle and Auntie Yu; and his death brought hy and I closer to them. And I’m sure that with his death, many learnt about living. I am one of them.

Photo courtesy of Deviantart

my room.

Since I have been spending my entire week in my room, this post shall be dedicated to it.

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A prison, enclose me within the 4 walls with only a grilled opening for sunlight to stream in, ah the enticing sunlight. Yet, it’s my santuary, where I find peace. Peace, quietness, and the familiarity.

I love looking out of the window; love the surprise of vibrant colours when I look out on sunlit days that makes my heart sing – the blue skies, green rustling leaves, birdsongs, red tiled roofs; and grey looming clouds and rain splattering on the glass meant that I can curl up in my room and enjoy a good read.

This room, a place where I had my loudest laughs, and probably stifled my worst cries.

Yes, this is my room, where my mirror becomes a notice board; where a study table meant by my Dad becomes a storage area; and a computer table takes its place of a study table; where the top of a luggage case becomes a clothes pile.

This is the room, that I love.

Where I have been spending my time for the entire of the past week. Yea, messy, I know. But I have everything I need – tissue, dustbin, water, munchies, laptop, printer, study plan, Baygon.. Look up from my work, and I see many me’s smiling back, in accompaniment with different important people and places. In case you’re wondering what’s behind my study table, it’s a shelf faced the other way.

Favourite things on my favourite shelf

Flowers upon my nightly slumber

Light in the darkest of nights

The yellow wall is my gallery

It’s starting to rain in ernest

Have you ever felt, like you were spilt into two souls?

One is the big-hearted angel; and the other, the selfish individual. Both their analogies made sense, yet one just can’t let the other win.

So you end up waging a battle of guilt and anger within yourself.