I realize that it hasn’t been that long since I made that pledge to be active again. Yet, as you can tell, my inactivity is more than evident. Circumstances and life itself have led me to dead ends – to writer’s block, to lack of motivation, and to other outlets. I’m upset with myself that I haven’t been able to keep up with everyone else’s wonderful posts, but I know that surely with time, I’ll be right back here commenting more often than needed. Despite all the obstacles that may stand in my way, I’m sure I’ll be able to develop myself more and more as time goes on. And that, that excites me.
The humid summer air is sweet with new opportunities, blooming with new insights. Despite the much love I hold for this season, a dark blue shadow has hovered over the normally bright month of July. There is so much happening around me and although I’d like to put on an optimistic face to support those who need it, but sometimes I find myself falling short of any happiness. The reasons for this are muddled, complicated, and many in number. I very much wish it was the opposite.
Lately, I have been feeling extremely disconnected from my best friends – “best” in the sense that I’ve known them for over ten years – being the last the know the significant things happening in their lives. Just yesterday, one such friend told me that she had broken with her boyfriend of about three months. I was shocked not at the fact that their relationship had ended, although that would reasonable considering how comfortable and cute they were together, but at the fact that all my other friends there were well aware of that fact. I didn’t tell them that of course – I’m terrible at communicating. I suppose I should learn from this experience. Take from it what I can. Talk more.
In yet another scenario, I heard from one of my close friends that another such best friend was transferring schools in the fall. This is going to be our Grad year. The most important high school year of our lives. And she’s not going to be there by my side. I talked to her everyday during school and I saw her three times that week. She never told me herself. I’ve known her for twelve years. I know she probably didn’t want to make me all sad about it yet and she probably wanted to find a way out of it first. But I’m a little hurt that she didn’t come to me first. Or at least one of our other best friends.
We’re not as close as we used to be.
But more than the fact that she didn’t tell me first, the fact that she won’t be there hurts me more. She’s definitely one of the most amazing people I know and my last year of high school is hollow, incomplete without her. I really resent our public school system. Sigh. At least the strike is over. We can finally return to our respective clubs.
But beyond my best friends, there are others that have reached out to me. I am definitely not in the prime state to be the advice giver, to be the one who helps make it okay again. I feel the resentment from within their situations – the depression, the pain – and somehow, because I’ve been there, because I care, it hurts me too. I’m tired of giving smiley faces. Of speaking words that signal a bright future when there is no certainty at all. Won’t someone do the same for me? Wait. There is someone. And I’m very thankful for him.
But to get to the core of this melancholic blue summer canvas, I have to get to crux of my situation.
A loss. A terrible, unfortunate loss. One that affected me more than I thought it would.
People deal with loss in different ways. Some cry for days on end, refusing to do anything productive. Others put on a brave face and carry on with their lives, tucking away memories of their loved one in the back of their minds. Some lose their words, lose their purpose, lose their way – lost until they find something or someone to bring them back. There are even those that seek revenge, that look for the cause of the loss and search for ways to terminate it. Then there are those who take the loss in a positive light. Who use it as inspiration to a piece of art, who gain motivation to walk down another path, and who use it as a beacon guiding them towards the future.
For me, it’s a bit of everything.
I respected my late grandfather (on my mother’s side) to a great extent, though we really never had a strong connection. To him, I was little more than just ‘granddaughter’, a role I happily wanted to fulfil, but was too far away to. He lived in a different part of the world, in my home town Hong Kong, while I was happily adapting to life in Canada, indulging myself in a different culture, a different language. But this is the man that raised my mother to be the wonderful woman she is today. Without him, I wouldn’t exist. But I thank him for more than just my existence – I thank him for my livelihood, my home, and my purpose.
It’s been tough journey for him. A few years ago, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. Slowly, he began to lose sense of the world. Began to forget people, places, memories. It hurt my grandmother the most, having to still work and care for him. My aunt supported the family in place of my mom who had her own family to deal with.
Seeing this suffering, this pain that was evident all across the family, I became dead-set into the world of medical study. Geriatrics. Not the most interesting area of study, but a path I am more than willing to take.
And now that he’s gone, I am even more determined to make my dream happen.
And some things about me need to change.
I know that.
And that drives me insane.
This too disorients my view.
People deal with loss in different ways.
I’m silent, lost, confused, but still carrying on my way.
I’ll be okay. Right?