I don't talk about things that break my heart. Hence that makes me a coward. 

Today rained a lot, it poured. On my way home I saw there's another wake where we held the wake for my father. I walked home sadly in the rain.

Tonight I helped mom to set up her time deposit account and maximise her profits. I also helped her check her salary, look at bills together and taught her how she can pay her bills in different ways to maximise cashback savings.  

I know ah pa will not be too worried to leave mom behind because he knows I will take good care of her. 

So I need to do my part and do better and have patience. 

At Bali when I was doing massage in the private room without my phone and no distractions at all, my mind just wouldn't quiet. I had to face the thoughts of thinking of my father and how little time we had together that was not filled with animosity. I always wished things could be different. 

I still wish they are different. 

I always thought you had more time, because how could you not - I am not even 30 yet. 

The thing is 

when you lack the courage to face your grief head-on 

it affects you in surges and bursts 

the way you could go about your day 

and the pain just stops you in your tracks 

the way there's no big fat ugly tears to cry 

all the things you have been told and heard about 

you just feel like a jar of happiness

never ever filled to the brim again 

I think the right term to describe all these is 

the way i feel like "everything and nothing all at once" 

 There's a kind of loss you don't recover from.

It's the white elephant in the room against

the television set that's on a tad too loud 

to stifle the muted silence in the air 

it's your mother's face fighting back tears

removing traces of your father's existence 

the wheelchair, the bathroom facilities, the motorised vehicle

and her daughter asking 

wait it hasn't been a hundred days 

but does it really matter anymore 

it's the way the world continues to spin 

and how unjust it feels at such a young age

the way people process the loss of a parent 

like something you bounce back from 

the way you would peel back the plaster from a burn 

and amidst all that you've been through

you truly do not wish this upon anyone else 

a lot of things in life really don't matter 

yet so few people have recognised this 

I have been writing in my journal but this feels like poetry