3 Signs Showing How We Brought Along Memories Of Those Who Passed On With Us
“…You can’t move on with big bang if you do not get over your griefs…You will not be able to focus at 100%,” said Veronica.
I didn’t fully agree with her comment. I asked myself if I still grieved my dad’s passing on. Those inevitable sad days I felt alone because dad no longer exist physically had made people concluded I still grieved.
Nobody knew anything about how sucky it felt like writing a resume, and watching great jobs closed its doors. Because my resume didn’t stand out.
Only my real personality that attracted the bosses, stood out.
But the world wanted papers. I felt hurt more how dumb I was to believe what career matchmakers said — I saw nothing of a future where those housekeeping tasks brought me today. So, I grieved.
And while I grieved, I noticed what I had been doing lately. Even through my mom’s daily activities. We had been fighting not to let my dad’s presence be forgotten. I wouldn’t want to lose those feelings of how it was like having dad around.
Let me share with you 3 signs how we brought along the memories of those who passed on with us.
I wrote this so that the next time anyone of you felt that your friend, colleague, relatives, or loved ones grieved, they likely did not. They were looking for energy, strength, and hope from those who already passed on.
Let me show you how…
1 — We start watching what we do not have interest in
Since my dad left, I convinced my mom to buy a smart TV. Dad was no longer around to fill up her time for arguments, debates, and chit chat.
My mom agreed as she loved the YouTube channels. She wanted to watch dramas from Indonesia. The smart TV helped a lot. Netflix!
The fearful mom I knew who disliked horror movies began her days watching a lot of ghost stories nowadays.
As for me, I chose movies about relationship between a father and daughter.
- The father encouraged his daughter to get up, trained, and got enlisted into the Air Force despite many rounds of rejections during interviews.
- The father who went all the way to look for his missing daughter who was locked in the restaurant’s freezer. (Okay. I wasn’t locked in. Never, I hope).
My mom wasn’t being weird. She watched the horror movies because it was my dad’s favorite. He always felt like a warrior that he could ‘fight’ monsters so that we would be protected. He still lived in her heart. She kept my dad’s presence in her heart to assure her that life would be fine. It comforted her.
As for me, I thought of it as grieving this morning. However, something else told me that it was my coping mechanism. I remembered how dad stood by me when I was undergoing training school as a warden.
I remembered him drove his huge truck down to my camp when I injured my head down to my spine. He was there. His bosses told him to forget about the deliveries, but to go straight to me. His bosses called onto the stakeholders who knew my dad’s personality. They too, told him to go straight to me with the truck and the stakeholders’ items.
I guessed while I felt low about resume writing and what jobs I would love to spend another balance of my life into, watching all these shows gave me strength. It enliven my dad’s encouragement.
I could hear my dad saying, “Lissa! You are my warrior daughter. Fight if you must. I am not around for you anymore. But I am here watching you. Be a fighter. Fight a good fight for yourself. My daughter isn’t weak.”
2 — We start picking up habits we refused to do because we thought it would be a waste of time
My dad had his habits. My aunt too. Both of them died cancer. Both of them had me in their lives. I was stuck as a caregiver for them. But it was a beautiful stuck-ing memories ever.
From them, I learned about myself after their passing on. I started to splurge money into fun claw.
My dad believed in the activities like lucky draw contest at the FairPrice supermarket. We never knew if our names would be drawn out from the balloting box to win thousands of monies. Right?
Muslims perhaps called that gambling. But being poor financially, I couldn’t blame my dad. It was one of the ways to tell us there was hope. Life had its hope. I always wanted to believe in miracles.
Ever since I left Claudine Restaurant feeling hurt and disappointed working there, I vented my hurt onto the fun claw machines. I clawed plenty of toys. That achievements brought me good pleasure. I felt like losing self-control of playing those machines.
My aunt did not like being home early. Even during her off days, she was tired but she did not want to be home. Because home didn’t feel like home when her life was expected to be robbed with our presence.
She either stayed out and roamed about, or worked extra hours. She didn’t mind working without an off day.
And now, I felt I had been doing the same as my aunt. I had been very tired.
My off days I had to force myself to leave the house, otherwise I would be stuck with the helper. Wherever I went to during my off days, my mom wanted her to follow me to spy on my activities and controlled my time.
So, either I accepted a last-minute restaurant opening for manpower, or I sat alone with my teddy and a laptop at a cafe. Sometimes, I fell asleep at the cafe.
And I realized photos of my aunt drinking away. My late uncle also drank. It was the old village lifestyle where we lived with European Eurasians. We were their babysitters and personal drivers.
I saw photos of my grandma, grandpa, uncle and aunty with a family of orang putih (the whites or eurasians). They celebrated Eid together.
Now, I became a bartender too. I served Edinger, Corona, Heineken, Guinness, and wines. Ask me for cocktails, I could do it for you. I thought I lost myself and turned into a different person. But I only realized that I did these as my loved ones were once in it too.
Did that make us bad persons? No. Recently my manager stopped me from serving Heineken. The liquid was dull. There was something not right with the color. I tasted a shot of it.
“It tasted more like Lagner, bro…Not Heineken.” I said.
3 — We start going to places we never thought of going to and speak of those days
My mom and helper went to the market together. These days, they went out spontaneously at the thoughts of eating something they craved for.
I remembered my mom always nagged and argued with my dad about the Chinese rojak. These days, I seen her with my helper, both eating Chinese rojak.
Recently, I brought my mom’s helper to the Peranakan restaurant. I ordered beef stewed buah kluak, and tapai (fermented durian). I told my mom’s helper; these were what my dad loved.
As for me, I had been drinking coffee during my off days at the cafes. I realized I did exactly what dad did too. He would quietly take a stroll down to the nearby coffee shop, sat alone or with strangers, and had his cup of coffee. He sat many hours doing nothing except sipping his coffee and looking around blankly.
I did the same. Except these days, I had my laptop to do writings and facing the resume writings hopelessly, but wishing I could begin a full time job immediately.
I wrote these that you might be able to understand people who lost their love ones didnt grief so much just because they kept doing things that reminded them of who passed on.
We got our comfort and strength so that we might not give up our life.
Well, I hadn’t write any great articles lately. I was missing from writing for 3 months solid during the unpredictable last moments with my dad. I grieved. But I still try my best to live.
Good night.
Lissa @ Maria
