Wednesday, March 26, 2014

rest in peace

drifting in and out of nameless sadness. engulfed by it. feeling unable and unwilling to verbalise. at times like these, i choose sleeping. the two days i spent in bed mourning the loss of an uncle who, upon meeting my exes, never looked at me or them sideways, who grilled my ex-wife just like a father should upon my introduction of her. the uncle who gave us the khadak as a blessing to a newly married couple. the only surviving uncle i had from my father's siblings. drifting in and out of painful sadness. the last time i saw him was the day i got back from istanbul. i heard from my cousin that he went downhill quite suddenly the week i was in istanbul, the week that i pined away after someone who didn't care enough to even be by my side when with all said and done i was dying of terror and pain of my own... the last few nights in istanbul when he chose silence as a means of communicating with me, when all i felt was being shut off unduly and painfully, i made my decision to move ahead, to still my screaming heart... still struggling to keep up with that as everything that amazes me i still want to show him, share with him, as with everything that hurts me, i still want to share all that with him... those two days in bed, i was drifting between two realms of memories, one of a family member, one of a family-could-have-been. on the afternoon i got back, my uncle was already hooked up to the oxygen machine at home: shortness of breath, heart palpitations caused by the lung cancer that has spread throughout his body and was eating him away and pain, pain, pain. he had such a beautiful wife who loved him through thick and thin. she stood by him, loved him, cared for him, loved him, never gave up on him despite the foolishness that all men and women indulge in through the fault of youth and well, just life. they brought up a beautifully smart daughter, my cousin, who ran rampant as a teen, but who grew up into a beautiful, kind and wickedly funny woman. her eyes bespoke of the loss i shared: i sat thinking of my childhood summers that our two families spent together, how my uncle, her father, would tease us wicked that we were foul farters. as if he wasn't one himself. he was often farting in his sleep. i guess a family trait, as so did my father. the summer house property that our two families shared for 2-3 years just before the transition hold some of the best childhood memories, right before the puberty hit, too. we were careless kids, and we had been wicked in so many ways, both tomboys, but the adults, our parents always looked on with love. he often told us the things from those summers that even my cousin and i didn't remember, which is a wow. to be honest, when i was a kid, he was often drunk, something that he learnt through his lifetime of work with the intelligence, but he was kind. he had a goodness and gentleness of heart that many men in my family have. the last twenty something years since the transition, he had been working on rehabilitating the victims of political repression, being involved on the draft law on rehabilitating such victims, and involved hands-on in the implementation of the system. and well he should have as both my father's and mother's families had such victims of political repression. my uncle, beloved uncle... rest in peace. oum ma ne pad me hum. may you have exhausted your karma, may you find buddhahood.

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