"Why aren't you going back for summer?" says everyone who's going back and can't fathom why I'd choose to spend 3 months of my life in my second home instead of my first.
Is it so unfathomable that I'd prefer to stay in my second home during the summer, my first summer in this place ever? Is it so unthinkable that I'd like to experience a summer Christmas? Because the alternative (returning to my first home) is such an amazing alternative, hey?
There's absolutely nothing I'd like to do more than to walk along the corridor towards my flat. As I take each step towards the front door, and in my left peripheral view, I'll see the plants my Ah ma used to nurture each and every day when she could still manage to step out of the house. Or maybe instead, I'll see the space where my Ah ma used to keep her plants, the plants all withered, dead and discarded when she passed. Then I'll get closer to the door, and even before I pull out my keys, I will see the door to her room. When I enter the house and walk towards my bedroom, I will pass the room she and my ah gong used to live it. Each time I walk past that room, I will be slapped with a reminder of its emptiness, devoid of any life. Each time I leave or enter the house I spent the first 20 years of my life in, I will see that room. I will be confronted with the cold, hard truth of how both my grandparents took their last breaths in that room, 6 years apart from each other and how I was absent when it happened.
I'll sit on the couch and listen to the sounds in this house. My ears will quickly pick up that the only language spoken in this house is now English, in contrast to the smattering of English, Hokkien, Mandarin and occasional Malay they used to be bombarded with each day. They will pick up that the mean sound pressure level isn't as high as it used to be.
My nose will pick up the absence of medical balms and oils in the house. The smell of hong you no longer pervades my nostrils like it used to.
At dinner, there will rarely be porridge present on the table. The amount of food served on the table has decreased. The amount of rice in the rice cooker will also have decreased.
When I leave the house, I will no longer be nagged at to remember my phone, wallet, jumper and ezlink card. Sometimes, I will run down half a storey of stairs, only to have to run back up because I left something in the house. I will knock on the door and it'll take twice as long as it used to get the door open because I have to wait for my sister to come out from our bedroom, which is further away from the front door than Ah ma's room.
It sounds like a terrific way to spend 3 months, doesn't it? That's probably why you can't fathom why I'd choose to pass it up.
Sunday 16 September 2018
Monday 10 September 2018
Things not to say to someone who is mourning
Ah death. The other half to life. What begins has to end and there's no escaping it.
However, some things we can escape are awkward interactions with people in mourning.
It's not that often that someone around us experiences a tragic loss and that's probably why we don't have these conversations that much. And in many cases, the person experiencing loss is in pain as well and the last thing you'd want is to hurt them with your words. Yet, it happens all the time because of the lack of practice in these situations. So to avoid unintentionally hurting someone you care about, here's some tips on what NOT to say or do to someone who's mourning.
1. "At least" - Don't utter these two words. The connotation behind "at least" is that there is an upside amidst all the tragedy. Don't fucking tell a grieving person what they should be thankful for.
Here's what I think when you say "At least she lived till 80."
So she technically SHOULDN'T have lived to 80? She should have died at a younger age?
Here's what I think when you say "At least she's not in pain anymore."
No shit, Sherlock, I never would have thought of that. You're an absolute genius and my mind is absolutely blown.
I don't need rationality because I am swimming in sadness. I don't need you to try and pull me out, I need to be here for a while. This is someone I've known for the past 22 years of my life. This is the woman who was once a heavy smoker, who gave up her cigarettes during my mum's pregnancy so that I wouldn't suffer the consequences of second-hand smoke. You cannot expect me to be unaffected. You cannot expect me to move on in a flash. This is a person whom I've known my entire life. How can you expect me to act like nothing's happened?
2. Don't spin the conversation into something thankful if I'm not ready to hear it. While being thankful and trying to be positive might work in other situations, it feels like a slap in the face when people try to see the positive side of things if I'm not ready to head that direction. I don't need to hear the benefits of my grandma's death. I'm not asking you to write an expository essay detailing the pros and cons of my grandma's demise. Death is a fucking devastating thing. The fact that you're trying to sugarcoat it with rainbows and unicorns just pisses me off. I need to grieve. Telling me the pros of her demise won't help me if I'm not ready to hear it. In fact, it makes me feel like you think that my grandma didn't deserve to live longer. You seem to be saying that every day she had on this earth was unmerited.
3. Don't expect a good response to "my condolences". I honestly never and still don't know how to respond to phrases like "My condolences to your family". I've seen people respond with a thank you and that's what I've been doing but I don't get it. Fine, I get that you are trying to empathize, but I don't need your empathy. I just need my grandma to be alive and well and in front of me. I need my grandma back. I need to see her every Saturday on our scheduled Facetime sessions. I need her to be there to watch me graduate. I need her to say bye when I leave for work in the mornings and say hi when I come back home from work. I don't need your condolences.
4. Don't disrespect others' beliefs about afterlife. Oh my god. If only I could truly express how much this pisses me off. I don't believe in afterlife. So I don't believe I'll ever see my grandma again. And if I mention that to you, if I mention how devastated I am that death is irreversible and that the last time I saw my grandma before she took her last breath was over Facetime and she was unconscious and I never got to say a proper goodbye again, I do NOT need a religious or theological lecture from you. Never have and never will. Please keep your beliefs about afterlife to yourself and just acknowledge my feelings.
At the end of they day, I just want for you to be there. I don't expect you to say anything life changing that will make me feel better because come on, that's not possible. I don't even need you to be there if it's too much. I'm going to cry and I'll need space. But here's one thing I really DON'T need. And that's for you to say something unneccessary that'll make me hurt more. Be quiet if you don't have anything good to say. I honestly really appreciate that way more than a fucking "at least..."
However, some things we can escape are awkward interactions with people in mourning.
It's not that often that someone around us experiences a tragic loss and that's probably why we don't have these conversations that much. And in many cases, the person experiencing loss is in pain as well and the last thing you'd want is to hurt them with your words. Yet, it happens all the time because of the lack of practice in these situations. So to avoid unintentionally hurting someone you care about, here's some tips on what NOT to say or do to someone who's mourning.
1. "At least" - Don't utter these two words. The connotation behind "at least" is that there is an upside amidst all the tragedy. Don't fucking tell a grieving person what they should be thankful for.
Here's what I think when you say "At least she lived till 80."
So she technically SHOULDN'T have lived to 80? She should have died at a younger age?
Here's what I think when you say "At least she's not in pain anymore."
No shit, Sherlock, I never would have thought of that. You're an absolute genius and my mind is absolutely blown.
I don't need rationality because I am swimming in sadness. I don't need you to try and pull me out, I need to be here for a while. This is someone I've known for the past 22 years of my life. This is the woman who was once a heavy smoker, who gave up her cigarettes during my mum's pregnancy so that I wouldn't suffer the consequences of second-hand smoke. You cannot expect me to be unaffected. You cannot expect me to move on in a flash. This is a person whom I've known my entire life. How can you expect me to act like nothing's happened?
2. Don't spin the conversation into something thankful if I'm not ready to hear it. While being thankful and trying to be positive might work in other situations, it feels like a slap in the face when people try to see the positive side of things if I'm not ready to head that direction. I don't need to hear the benefits of my grandma's death. I'm not asking you to write an expository essay detailing the pros and cons of my grandma's demise. Death is a fucking devastating thing. The fact that you're trying to sugarcoat it with rainbows and unicorns just pisses me off. I need to grieve. Telling me the pros of her demise won't help me if I'm not ready to hear it. In fact, it makes me feel like you think that my grandma didn't deserve to live longer. You seem to be saying that every day she had on this earth was unmerited.
3. Don't expect a good response to "my condolences". I honestly never and still don't know how to respond to phrases like "My condolences to your family". I've seen people respond with a thank you and that's what I've been doing but I don't get it. Fine, I get that you are trying to empathize, but I don't need your empathy. I just need my grandma to be alive and well and in front of me. I need my grandma back. I need to see her every Saturday on our scheduled Facetime sessions. I need her to be there to watch me graduate. I need her to say bye when I leave for work in the mornings and say hi when I come back home from work. I don't need your condolences.
4. Don't disrespect others' beliefs about afterlife. Oh my god. If only I could truly express how much this pisses me off. I don't believe in afterlife. So I don't believe I'll ever see my grandma again. And if I mention that to you, if I mention how devastated I am that death is irreversible and that the last time I saw my grandma before she took her last breath was over Facetime and she was unconscious and I never got to say a proper goodbye again, I do NOT need a religious or theological lecture from you. Never have and never will. Please keep your beliefs about afterlife to yourself and just acknowledge my feelings.
At the end of they day, I just want for you to be there. I don't expect you to say anything life changing that will make me feel better because come on, that's not possible. I don't even need you to be there if it's too much. I'm going to cry and I'll need space. But here's one thing I really DON'T need. And that's for you to say something unneccessary that'll make me hurt more. Be quiet if you don't have anything good to say. I honestly really appreciate that way more than a fucking "at least..."
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