daylight-saving time

by the way, i absolutely hate it that i am in the middle of the DST change. So does that mean i get one more or one less hour of sleep if my time zone goes from +2 to +1?

shit. shit the DST.

post-edit: Ok, after much calculation and thinking with my stupid headache, i hereby conclude that i gain one more hour of sleep tonight. YooohoooO!

and to friends in sydney, melbourne, adelaide and perth, congratulations, you just lost one hour of sleep.

i always thought that... if you wished and hoped hard enough, it'd come true. it's naive really, this thinking, but then it never stopped giving me hope that one day, just one day, something i wish really hard for will come true.

i took a mini-hiatus, for many reasons, of which one was because i still wanted to see the blog posts i wrote on my dad's demise and how i felt so i could be reminded time and time again; another reason being simply because i have nothing much to say. i still tear now and then when i am alone, thinking about all the things i could have done; i get angry every now and then thinking about how much responsibilities financially wise i have to take up now. It is a good thing that i seldom splurge on expensive goods, but it also means whatever plans I have made to go back into proper ballroom dancing have to be put on infinite hold.

Never has a day passed when i don't wake up thinking if we would be evicted from our house today. and still, sometimes i wake up crying in the middle of the night, missing dad and wondering if he'd heard me. this current place we've lived for the past 20 years belongs to dad's company, and since dad left no will, i guess everything kinda rolls to his family. it probably is sooner or later that we'd be chased out i guess. things died down slightly after dad's cremation, and heard now the office is in a mess.

i spent one week hoping and hoping the other family would change their minds, and then it didn't happen. our only updates were from relatives, who, in my honest opinion, thinks it's easy for us to stay away but all i really wanted to do is to scream at them and ask if they'd really understand what we felt.

the company was understanding about my plight, with my leave and the compassionate leave given, i spent a week away from work and at home. yet i couldnt bear staying at home. neither could i stand being in a crowd. i went back on flight the first day, a hong kong turnaround, and into hong kong, this guy was the last to leave the plane. he stared out the window, and when i gently reminded him that we've reached, he looked at me with tears in his eyes, and somehow a feeling i could reconcile with. looking down, i saw him holding a picture of his family. and en route back to singapore, during landing i teared silently in the darkness of the galley.

the next 2 flights were alright, because i had friends with me. but i am now alone in rome, finished a plate of lousy pasta (such audacity!) from the hotel because i didn't feel good enough to go out, and every minute awake screams murder. i spent money just to be online, to be connected with friends, and yet no one could comfort me much. i don't blame them. it's just me.

i crave for that companionship now, and for someone to just cave into my demands and my ridiculous outbursts, for me to rant and vent and just swallow all that like... a sponge, but i realise i can't do that unless i get a dummy.

so i'm pretty fucked up.

and yeah. rome is pretty only if we have transport into town because the two days we are here, transportation is either on strike or having some green day action thing where no vehicles should be on the roads. and it gets back to working conditions tomorrow, the day we leave. it's a good thing i've been here before, and that i didnt really intend to go out much because i am feeling ill still, otherwise i would feel even more fucked up than ever.

if only i could turn back time...

the past few days have been surreal.

i have been back home since tuesday morning, and only 2 days have passed. it felt like it's been so many days, probably because i didn't sleep much, and my mind kept replaying the time i got the news to the time i touched down in singapore. i did so many things that day it felt like 2 days instead of one.

that night, i was so upset i couldn't think logically. i knew i started asking weird questions to friends, and just feeling lost. i walked from my place to the wake. and because we weren't allowed there, i stood at the block across the carpark and silently prayed there. and i apologised for never being a good daughter, and how i gave up the chance to be one. i asked if he remembered us before he left, and told him not to forget us. and i asked why he couldn't wait for me to come home and see him before he left.

yesterday was pretty much a blur. i felt so lost i longed for someone who's always been in my life to hug me, and so i drove to grandma's. we talked, and that was pretty much the first time in my whole life i've ever had a heart to heart talk with her. spending time with her in the past just couldn't compare to what we talked about during the half hour i was there.

maybe a wake is held so that the family members won't have much time alone to think about the loss, to have people around them to share the loss and the pain, but for mum, bro and i, we just seek solace in the fact that we have relatives and friends who care, relatives who are on our side and friends who have been calling just to ask if we have eaten. i eat everyday, not because i want to, but because i know i have to. i still wake up crying, i still find it difficult to accept, but yet i know one day it will all come to pass. i am afraid of forgetting daddy, and i am even more afraid that i'll keep pretending that he's still around.

thinking back, it's been half a year he's been home. ever since his op in april, he hasn't come home, but these few days the house felt extremely empty. i sat on my parents' bed, in his usual spot, and held his packet of cigarettes, which my mum still kept. we never put away his things. his glasses were still on the bedside table, his tshirt still hung on the hook, even after all this time. after his op, the only updates we got were from my aunt, and after 2 weeks dad finally called, and i was so glad i was around when he called. he said he was sorry he just couldn't remember our number and they took his phonebook away. he knew i've been calling his handphone many times. but it just took him so long to remember our number. and that was the last we've heard from him. and he went back to the hospital, condition worsened, and to see him lying in bed.. helpless and like a baby, i couldn't take it. i'd break down everytime as my mum spoke to him. subsequent visits left me feeling drained because he'd look different. that wasn't dad. that was someone else. what happened to that boisterous man i call dad? who is this frail man lying in bed with tubes out of his body?

the other family made sure we didn't get enough time with dad. our visits had to be in secret, because at certain times the private nurse they hired would be around and he wouldnt let us have time alone with dad. the hospital nurses empathized with us, and always told us the times he'd be around. then when they shifted dad to the nursing home a month back, no one knew until my uncle went to the hospital and couldnt find dad. mum made it a point to try to visit dad everyday. i've never went. because i always told myself tomorrow i'd go. and i told myself i'd go after i came back from new york, and now, there's no tomorrow after all.

i've never done the things my dad wanted me to do. when i got o level results good enough to get into a good junior college, i told my dad i'd go poly because that was what i've always wanted. when he said being in the hotel industry isn't a good thing, i still went ahead and joined the hotel. when he told me flying isn't such a good thing, i still went ahead and signed the contract. i've never done what he wanted. and he never blamed me for it. he's never scolded me nor hit me. we've had spats, but he's never hit me. he gave us what we wanted, and he was a good man, because he was responsible, and took care of us for so long.

i just can't forgive myself. when we were young, every time dad came back, brother and i would run to hug him, and when he left we would give him a goodbye kiss and a hug. but as we grew older, these acts of love became lesser. i'd not be home the times he would be, or be in the shower or even pretend to be asleep when he left. there were days when i didnt see dad. and it didn't matter then when i was working in the hotel. there were days when he called on sunday mornings but i would tell him i was tired and told him i wont join him and mum for breakfast. i used to love spending time with dad when i was a child, but why as i grew up i grew distant from him?

i've gone through many phases. when we were young i never could understand why dad left in the middle of the night. when i was in primary two, parents broke the news to me that dad has 2 wives and mum doesnt have a wedding cert, i thought it was normal because that was what the drama serials were showing then. as i grew older i envied my cousins, who had family outings on sundays, and sat at the dining table to eat as a family. i've gone through a stage hating my mum, and saying really hurtful things i regret till now, because i thought she went to destroy other people's family. i've gone through a stage hating my dad for not being faithful to his wife. but when i went out to work i realised where love plays a part, no one was to blame. i shouldnt blame my mum, she dutifully stayed by him, even though it was tough for her to have given up everything for us. i shouldnt blame dad, who had been responsible for our upbringing.

after i started flying, i realised family is important and i started making more effort to be around at home. we went out for a couple of family dinners and it made me really happy. having charcoal was a good thing too. dad loved charcoal, although i always chide him for overfeeding charcoal with snacks. but i couldnt and wasnt able to talk to him heart to heart without feeling that awkwardness in between us. so many years have built the wall between us and i allowed it to happen. dad made the effort to call everytime i'm overseas to check on me and i never, never, made enough effort to care for him. only when he started feeling sick i called him everyday to check on him till he went for the op.

i have but myself to blame for this hurt that consumes me from inside. i don't know how to forgive myself, or how to accept that he'd no longer be around. a part of me doesn't want to move on, but i know the world doesn't stop turning for me. i've been denied my chance of sending him off, and seeing him the last time. and i feel angry.

and i failed my brother as an elder sister. after so long he broke down last night and i wasn't there for him. everyday i've been crying and i haven't been the strong figure that he could look up to.

i've not been a good daughter, and not a good sister.

i can't forgive myself.

jamaican sex god alywin left me this:

'when the darkness falls
and the blight encrouches
you have your own walls;
to keep out the weakness

say a little prayer
rinse the memories
and store them somewhere
devoid of emotional burglaries

then breathe again the air,
and heal the glass windows
that display your soul, your flair
let life take you on another journey,
one only God knows'

very apt. very true.
thank you.

thank you for all the sms-es, and calls, as well as emails and msn messages.

i appreciate your concerns and thank you for the condolences.

please don't attend the wake ok? because we won't be there. but your heartfelt condolences are appreciated greatly.

:)

i'll be fine.

dad passed away while i was on the flight to frankfurt.

i checked into the hotel, and couple of hours later mum called to tell me the news. i cried, and cried till words couldn't come out, till i couldn't breathe, till i shivered.

i didn't know what to do and i just fell onto the floor and huddled in a corner. i called L and asked him what i should do amidst sobs, and he told me to breathe, as i started having seizures. i wanted to cry till i could cry no more. i wanted to scream, but nothing came out. and so i called one of the colleagues, whom i knew would still be up at that unearthly hour, and asked her for advice. she came over immediately with the chief, and both of them sat with me until the IFS came down, and we continued waiting for instructions from the office.

the call came in just after the trio left my room, and was informed to pax back on the earliest morning flight home. i cried as the staff said, "i'm sorry to hear of your loss." i cried as i was painting my nails, i cried as i was packing my bag for home. i wished i had no tears but i still continued crying. i couldn't sleep initially, and slowly succumbed to sleep. Dreamt a little, and when i woke up, i didn't remember what happened, but when i saw my packed bag and the stack of crumpled tissues next to me, it hit hard and i started crying again. i'm a crybaby i know.

so i prepared for flight. my eyes swollen, i couldn't put on the eyeshadow proper. i couldn't do up the hair well, either. i made a lot of calls to anyone i could think of, and cried as i told them. i want to be strong, eventually, but now i want to be weak. the IFS, chief and the colleague, all of whom became my family for this flight, came down with me to see me off.

during the flight, i ate nothing and slept. got woken up for fruits and cereals, which i forced myself to eat, and as the plane was landing, all i could think of was the fact that i have to accept that dad has passed on. i cried silently as the plane taxiied on the runway, and as the all familiar "welcome to singapore, ladies and gentlemen..." greeting came on, i decided i didn't want to go home after all. When i walked out of the aircraft, bidding goodbye and extending my appreciation to felix, tears rolled down uncontrollably. At the end of the aerobridge, I saw one of our STC staff waiting to take me through everything.

i'm home now, and yet i still kinda can't accept that dad is gone. i don't know when i'll ever accept it... and the fact that mum, bro and i are not allowed to partake in the funeral procession nor pay our last respects to dad as per instructions from the other family, made it a lot worse for me. My relatives on dad's side were very sympathetic, all calling to offer their condolences and that they'd help us in every way they can to let us send dad off. maybe, just maybe, they might change, my aunt said. i seriously doubt so.

my fond memories of dad are few, the times when i pretend to be asleep just to have him carry me up home and tuck me into bed, the times when we had breakfast on sunday mornings, and then walks at the park nearby after, the times he cooked burnt fried rice and claimed that he liked it burnt, all of which were memories when i was young. the last few memories of him were him holding my hand as i lay in the hospital bed after my op, him bringing us out for mother's day dinner, and him calling to check on me whenever i go on flights.

i lost a dad i don't know well enough. i don't know how old dad is, i don't know which year he was born in, i don't know how he was like as a kid, i don't know how he worked till this age, i don't know how he grew up, i don't know what he thought about us, i don't know what he expected out of us, i don't know a lot of things. I'm sorry for the times that could have been.

and now i know.

these tears i shed..... are tears of regret.