I sat still. Didn’t leave the house except for errands, on days when most people went somewhere for the Holy Week. I don’t know if it did me good or not. With lack of substantial thing to do apart from organizing my closet that looked as though a hurricane swept past, (Oh! And hanging on to dear sanity every time a lonesome jelly and a single move stand in the way of getting on to the next level in Candy Crush Saga… 🙂 ) I was pretty much left alone with my thoughts. Cue in background music (ala Tito Boy when he wants to make his interviewer bawl out like a baby).
Growing up in an old school family, we are not allowed to be “happy” during this time. It’s because we commemorate Jesus’ sacrifice for us all and the least we can do is spend these days praying, going to church for the Way of the Cross and watching The Ten Commandments, The Seven Last Words…and yes, no meat until Easter Sunday. But because we’re such crazy kids, it’s when we got told off to be serious that we can’t help giggling over the most nonsensical thing. The look we get from our parents will make other kids scuttle under a rock but we just pretend that we weren’t doing anything and go giggle like loonies once they’re out of sight.
And just like that, memories of my father came flashing back again. Because this year, we didn’t get to watch the Seven Last Words with him… actually, we’ll be lucky if we get past the fourth word before we find ourselves snoring on the mat by the tv. We lay side by side and we’ll occasionally hear mom sniffing as she watch testimonials on The Words.
And that day in 2012 when I spent the afternoon with my nephew as he helped me pack the chocolates and candies we bought that will be given away on Easter to the kids in the neighborhood. I miss the kids. If only they can just stay here and leave gloomy UK for good.
Or maybe I miss being a kid. To not to have to worry about anything and just go to school and hopelessly wait when the next vacation is and just play until we hear my father’s distinct “sitsit” and my mom’s endless chatter when we get home.
There’s this lump in my throat that won’t go away ever since watching Magnifico with my mom and brother earlier. I watched this movie before and it didn’t affect me as much as it did today. Maybe because losing someone dear is still fresh. I was hoping to lose this feeling since 4PM but even as I drank some bottled cocktail, it’ still here. Maybe because death in the family, no matter how much you prepare yourself for the pain, you are never prepared. You will never be.
They say you can’t move forward if you keep looking back. But I choose to look back. On the things that made me happy and sad; scared and strong. I look back as far as I can into my childhood; into those times during adulthood. Because it makes me appreciate what we have right now. It is not much. But it is enough.