I tried going to the office today, just to ease myself back into the whole routine. I think I had a good day seeing I didn't break down (yet) or bit anybody's head off. :) A part of me wants to feel guilty for taking almost 7 days off after my mom's death. Another part is telling me that I needed to honor the pleading of my heart and that I needed those days to putter around.
I had been taking my body for granted the last few weeks, I know that. I slept three weeks straight in a hospital lobby, ate nothing but junk, deliberately forgot sleep. But a sick section of my brain is telling me that if I didn't do that, I can never forgive myself if anything bad happened to my mom. And now that the big Bad I was so scared of did happen after all, I'm just too exhausted to feel guilty. Have you ever heard of such pathetic psychology?
Mum vs. Dad
An uncle of mine raised an issue about how my sister and I love our parents. He said, he knew that we loved our Dad much more than we cared for our Mum. I wanted to slap him silly and kill him twice with a samurai blade.
I'm young, but I know Love does not have standards nor just one definition. We're talking about two different individuals here who had to be loved in different ways as well. We love our Daddy the way we knew how to love him, and we love our Mummy the way we knew how to love her. Both kinds of love are overflowing, insistent and consistent. There was never a pause or doubt in it. There never was a moment we hated one or the other; we never detested their presence or their existence. For anybody to assume that we loved one over the other is presumptious, crude, narrow-minded and malicious.
I am weak right now from the need to be consistently strong for my sister, so I do not have the energy nor the interest to viciously counterattack his statement point per point. I'm finding that I'd rather gather my sister and myself to a quiet place, much like gathering a tattered but comforting blanket about our shoulders. Let the world rage on about us. What I know is that we are healing and I do not need to listen to maleficent creatures such as him.
Out of concern, another aunt is questioning my capability to take care of my sister and the house. Suggestions kept pouring in: sell the house, transfer to a smaller place, sell this and that, consider this and that...
I know I don't look like much of a decision-maker but I believe I am a thread stronger than the whimpering sissies we often see on teevee. My parents taught us well. They trusted us. I can take care of this. And when it comes to a problem I think too complicated for me to handle, I know how to ask for help. The last three weeks of my mum's confinement pretty much taught me how to swallow my pride and ask for assistance: financial, emotional, logistical, etc. And most of all, I can ask help from God who provided everything for us in the first place.
We will be okay.