Dear Danie

 Dear Danie, 

I've already stopped asking why. After several deaths in the family, I have stopped asking why. Besides, they have not been helpful - like why would a 24-year old be killed in cold blood under a presumed drug war or a mother who seemed to be recovering from cancer died anyway. See, they do not help. Not even asking God why helps, because when the world does not make sense, the only thing left to make sense is faith. 

So, when I heard of your passing, I did not ask why. I just asked what happened. Your beloved Aya has been born to the world, we were more worried about her than you because you seemed fine, until you weren't and then you were gone. Some things even science can't explain. There is no why to death, it just is. Everyone dies, some earlier than others, some in freak accidents, and some in senseless bloodlust. I have stopped asking why. 

They say all people die, but not everyone lives but girl, YOU LIVED. I don't think I've seen anyone who is as brave (and perhaps, close to reckless) as you. You wanted to surf so you did. You wanted to try new things so you did. You were not afraid to bet your heart and try again when it broke. I think, this above all, makes you you. My heart is the last one I'd put on the betting table - I may even be more willing to bet my life than to bet my heart. But you, my girl, did both and you did it well. 

Look at the lives you've touched, and the lives you've made alive by your presence, and the life you bore. In your short 32 years, the zest of life you exuded made me believe you'd live forever. But it was not to be so. 

We said we'll go on another girl's trip when things settle down and when the money comes, but it looks like, that trip will have to wait until we all meet again at some point in the future. 

I cannot regret nor resent the way you died nor even be greedy of why your life seemed short. For some reason, I was just grateful - grateful to have known you, grateful that before you have moved on to the next chapter, that I got to meet you and got to call you friend. 

Thank you. Thank you for that. 

"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." 

I have been given you in this life. Blessed be the name of the Lord. God has called you home and one day, we too, will be called home. Blessed be the name of the Lord. And really, I can't help but feel just grateful and blessed that in this lifetime, our lives have intersected. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

It has been an honor and pleasure, Surfer Girl. 

You were always an adventurer, Danie girl. I guess God has better waves for you to catch in heaven. Surf on. 

Love,

Ciara 

Penang, Malaysia 2017

The Things I Used to Be

 I used to have it all. 

Well, not really. 

But I used to think and feel as though everything is achievable and isn't that quite the same as having it all. For a moment in time, all things are possible and if I just put my mind to it, they will be mine. 

But the years and the journey were difficult. I have mourned the loss of past selves, and have tried celebrating the new ones that arose and yet, I missed them. 

When I was in college, I mourned the loss of my bubbly friendly self. It seemed harder to make friends in college than it was in high school, but I also mourned the fizzling of high school friendships. 

When I graduated, I mourned the loss of my bright-eyed self who was ready to conquer the world. 

When I got my Master's degree and started on a new job, I mourned the loss of my secure and intelligent self. To note, I did not feel all that intelligent or secure until my world tumbled then I realized that I used to be intelligent and secure-ish. 

When I was nearing my 30s, I mourned the loss of my fearless laughter. Death has made it cautious. 

When I have reached my 30s, I mourned the loss of my go-getter self - the one who despite all odds, can grit her teeth and bear it and just make it happen. 

I am still mourning. 

With blighted hopes and not-yet dreams, and delays upon delays, I question and doubt if some of the things I held on to are still worth holding - and yet they remain. 

I am not sure if they are meant to be ghosts to haunt me or goal posts to remind me to keep on. 

In the loss of all my past selves, I have thought that they, too, would go away, and sometimes, I had wished them to go away for they ache and ache still. 

Except I do not have the confidence to meet them - not like I used to. I had not feared the costs before, I had been willing to pay, but now, I have paid too much and am in debt. I had been willing to be scarred, and now, I have been scarred too much. I have battle scars on battle scars, and scabs and callouses and yet, I remind my little heart to keep beating, to not let itself be numb for it still has people to love. I remind my little hands to open up and keep working, for they still have people to serve. 

I remind them that there is still beauty in this world. I remind them that some delays are just pullbacks getting ready for that trajectory. I remind them of the Dream Giver who does not set people up for failure. 

I think of my past selves. I, sometimes, mourn them. And yet, I know, that they will not be equipped to meet the challenges I am meeting now. They have led me to this place. They were necessary but I needed to grow out of them too. 

I miss the times of my wide-eyed wonder, can-do attitude, but I appreciate the nuances I know now - the more compassionate, empathetic, and grounded attitude. 

I may mourn still and yet, I still hope.  

A conversation

1: There are a few things worse than pain. 

2: Like what?

1: Death

2: Death? But death is a welcomed reprieve from pain and suffering. Death is not worse, death is a comfort. 

1: No, I mean the death of pain. The death of pain is worse than pain when you still exist. 

2: How so?

1: When you feel pain, you know something is not right, and that something must be done, that there must be something more than this. 

2: And you think that's preferable than not feeling pain at all? No one likes pain though. 

1: And yet all growth is painful. And growth is necessary. It is still better to feel pain than none at all. To not feel pain while breathing is to not have lived while living. Is it not so?

2: Then why live at all if all it has is pain? 

1: Oh no. We do not live to feel pain, we feel pain because we live. In a broken world with broken people, it is inevitable that we feel and cause pain. Yet, people are still worth knowing beyond that, aren't they? 

2: I guess. Then why don't we just choose physical death, to just end it all? 

1: Even death does not spare others of pain, even ourselves. There will be those who will mourn us, and we, if after death, can we truly say we do not have regrets? Perhaps, it is better to die, knowing you have tried to live well. 

2: And so you conclude? 

1: I will try again, even if it may possibly be painful. Yes, I will try again.  

Those Days...

There are days when it seems that

the heart beats ever so slow

until it stops.

Breathe.

That the instruments play but

there is 

no music

That you sing but

there is 

no 

song

You want to curl up and wait

Seeing your light, flame, life leave the body

until it is

stone cold

Death seems like a comfort

but death would not come 

And you have to wake up again 

the next day

And hope and pray to God to reignite

the Spark

to keep on living

Better days are ahead

Better days are ahead

Better days will come

They must.

***

Take heart

Let His love lead us through the night

Hold on to hope

Take courage again

- Take Heart, Hillsong 

Farting Around in the Dark

August 10, 2009 - I turned 20. I was most excited about this birthday because having the tens digit change felt like transitioning to adulthood. Officially, I was no longer  a teen, and in a while, graduating from college. What will the world beyond me look like? Do I have what it takes? So many choices, so many possibilities…

…Until there was none. Graduation day came and I have nothing. No plans. No roadmap. No answer to the question that has pestered me for several weeks, “what will you do?” What now? We were taught to write CVs in college. We were told to attend conferences and workshops so that we can “bulk up” our CV. We were lectured on concepts and laboratory skills, and there I was, a graduate, knowing the central dogma of life and how to manipulate it but entirely clueless on the first thing to do with a job hunt. 

A lot of my peers went to med school, and for the first time, I dearly hoped I succumbed to external pressure of taking the NMAT and applying to med school. At least, I would have an answer to “what will you do now?” I do not have to “think” of what I will do next and feel responsible for ruining the rest of my life. However, that ship has sailed, and for the life of me, it was so clear that I did not want to be a doctor. I wanted to go into research, but how does a career in research look like? Where do you start? Where were the openings, the job fairs, the “research opportunities”? 

I was at point A. I knew my point B. I had a clear picture in my head of what I wanted to become, what I wanted to do. I wanted to do worthwhile research, I wanted to have my own lab, but how does one get there from being a fresh graduate? The chasm seemed so wide and the bridge cannot be found. If I were to build a bridge myself, where do I start? 

As luck or Providence would have it, an opening was posted for a research position at the Marine Science Institute. I’m not into marine research but it did say “drug discovery” so maybe it can work. Besides, the other option was being unemployed, jobless, with low self-esteem, and nothing to show for, so, there I went. At least, it was something sure, right? I was hired in a jiffy because the previous research assistant was leaving soon for graduate school and I found myself shoved into the unknown. Again. 

When a TED speaker said that research was like “farting around in the dark”, I couldn’t agree more. Because there I was, in the dark, both in research and in life, trying to figure out answers to questions that were not clear, devising methods to get to those answers which may or may not work. What must I do, then? I told myself, “Let’s keep moving. Somewhere, there is a tunnel of light, and you are young yet, you will figure things out, and when you’re older, you will have figured them out.”

Hah! What naivety! What idealism! Little did I know I was going to be shoved in the dark for several times more after that - when a project ended and I had to find a new job, when I had to take on a job as an administrative assistant, when I had to do freelance tutoring while waiting for the next thing, when I had to quit a “job abroad,” when I finished graduate school and found no place to take me in, when I went into teaching despite having no background in education, and when I had to have something published otherwise I’m “out.” 

They said disappointment hurts, but that time, during the unknowns, the unsures and in-betweens, having hope hurt more. I asked God, “Is this dream really for me? Because it seems like I’m holding on to some fantasy. If it’s not for me, please take it away and kill it, because it pains and stings and burns. But if it is for me, then grant me hope and strength to push on. You do not set people up for failure. You do not put dreams that cannot be fulfilled. I do not know if there is a place for me out there, but if You say so, then I will go.”

Flashback to my 20th birthday, I remember my cousin telling me, “I wonder if you’ll be as excited when that tens digit changes next.” In my newly minted twenty-year-old brain, I said, “Watch me.” I laugh now at my arrogance, because I dreaded my 30th birthday. It was not about the number, it was about what have I to show for in the years before? What have I achieved? What have I accomplished? And yet, I did not die of trepidation or fear or pressure or snarky comments like “sayang-tist” or “teacher lang”. My 30th birthday came and went and I am still here. 

Have I figured things out yet? No. Not at all. Not even close. But I have learned to be comfortable in the dark - to grope around, to fart around, and to trust that there is light at the end of the tunnel. I have learned to respect time and honor the process. I had wished that I knew then what I know now, and yet, I also know from the depths of my being that I wouldn’t have known what I know if I did not go through the process. Some things you cannot cheat or accelerate or skip. Growth demands time and patience and self-compassion. I will be turning 32 soon, and I look forward to it - another milestone - of exceeding the calendar. And the dream still burns. The hope still lives.

Be at Peace - St. Francis De Sales

 

May today there be peace within - St. Teresa of Avila