TIRED

She kept herself awake for thirty consecutive days. People said, it was the days when the battle between She and Her broke out. It was the battle between sanity and insanity. There were the times  when her assumption went wild. She assumed that She  had evaporated. She fell into the stage of delirium. One stories after another were told. They were actually not stories, they were just meaningless words rushing out of the dry lips. But there were also the days when rationality provoked Her thoughts.  For an instance, She was transformed into Her. Tranquility occupied Her heart and mind. Hope has managed to convince Her that comfort has dwelt back in the kingdom of Her heart.  But the latter did not remain long. She arrived back and landed right in the middle of Her heart. She was again torn and forlorn. Insanity took the reign. She was unreachable, floating, blown away by the strong breeze. Hoping that life has mercy on Her and kept her back in the place where comfort dwells.

HOW LONG?

I have a new laptop. My children bought them for me. I am so so proud of them. It's not the laptop that matters, but the fact that they begin to shunt  the me within sideways and begin to share with others.  Having a new laptop I had to move my files from my old laptop to the new one. I bumped into so many memories. Two of which are the most moving  ones to me were the memories of my sister and my mother. 

When I was a teenage, I could hardly imagine that I could live without my sister and my mom. The closest and loving persons they are that brought me to a comfort zone. I shared my problems with them, sometimes I put my problems in their shoulders for I know they will take care of it. 

As I grow up and had my own life, things had never stopped nor changed. My sister lives overseas. We talked once a week, almost every end of a week. We made joke and we shared our problems. The tie that bond us was even stronger than before. The picture of our vacation was in my old laptop. I transferred them one by one while my mind was exploring the past. The story that we shared reveals how you always find our home as a home. You wanted me to talk about the stupid things we did when we were teens. I noticed the happy look in your eyes flashing as I brought the old memory back. You must have missed your home so much sister and that made me feel sad. The life that you chose could not replace the concept of home. You came back home every week end. 

My mother lived with me within the last 7 years of her life. She died in April 2017 and that was the second blow to me. All the pains that she had to go through to make us lead our own life was beyond words. A single mother, with four kids was not an easy homework for her. She could put herself as one of the most loved person to the entire extended family. I know her life was a bit empty once she got old, but the love has never ceased to exist. Even in her state of dementia, she had never forgotten to share her love. I found her picture, she was praying. I took that picture. God must love her so much for she had always lived with Him. 

Two of my children are grown up. They have their own jobs.  I might not be the best mother to my three children, but I know they love me and I love them.   I love them the way my mother and my sister had taught me about love. My son is only 13. I ask God to give me some more time to raise my son, to bring him to a stage where he becomes his own person, leading his own life. It is going to be His time, not my time. How long? 

SPS

I bumped into the phrase SPS that stands for Slow Processing Speed a couple of months ago. A friend mentioned it to me and I was triggered to search for further explanation. My old computer seemed to be the best metaphor for a child with SPS.  The pace at which it absorbs, processes, makes sense of information take longer than any other kids. It has nothing to do with being smart. A kid with SPS tends to perform tasks longer. SPS does not solely  live with learning and attention issues, but it can contribute to learning and attention issues like ADHD, Dyslexia, dyscalculia and auditory processing disorder. Worst of all, it impacts learning at all stages and executive functioning skills which is the thinking skills that help kids plan, set goals, respond to problems and persist on assignments, staying focused and monitoring how well they are doing.
I took a ride in a friend's car. Her husband is a qualified practitioner of medicine. I talked about SPS. Then he said that there is no such word as impossible. To get rid of the word impossible requires persistence, hard work and most of all one has to believe that one can do it. God has never created a person with problems that are too heavy for them. I was silent, even days after the conversation had occurred. Despite the blow,  I was a bit relief for now I know the question.
I have been trying for years to find the answers which question I do not know. From one expert to another, a seeker I had been, a seeker of something I do not know. Now that I know the question, I did not know how to start or what to do. I am still a seeker, but this time I know what I am looking for.
I love you be it SPS, or ADD or Dyslexia or whatever it is. I promise I will be with you as long as I can and spend my best efforts on adapting you to live with SPS. I talk to God about you every night and in every possible conversations I have with Him.

INCUBUS

My eldest brother perished before I was born. I did not feel any attachments to him. I only saw his picture lying in his coffin, while my mom and dad were sitting beside the coffin. I noticed the sadness was deeply carved on their faces.  The next image of my brother was his grave. My mom took us to the grave a couple of  times. I remember the marble on which there were my brother’s picture and name. My grandfather’s name was also carved on the marble. Apparently they shared the same graves. I also remember the granite gravel on both sides of the cemetery. The beautiful glittery tiny stones shone as the ray of the morning sun reached the cemetry.

Time goes by,  the memory of my brother was forgotten. My mom had a rough time after my dad left her. The pain  of being neglected by someone whom you wanted to share your life with was deep. I did not know which one was deeper but they definitely kept my mom occupied. The story of my brother was hardly mentioned. His existence has turned into ashes...as to his body. We have never  heard anyword about him anymore.

On a fine day, early in the morning, my mom passed away.  She had been lying in bed for more than a year, trapped in a box called silence. We were all sad, but deep down in my heart I was happy for her. She had recorded a long-standing  life. She was almost 95. After her burial I went through her cupboard and found a pile of documents. It was hidden at  the very bottom of her cupboard. I said hidden  because they were covered with multi layers of old newspaper and plastic bags. I had no comperehension whether  the documents were a treasure or torture  to my mom.

I opened the documents carefully for they were dull, discoloured and full of stains. I was affraid I might damage the papers.  At the very top there was a tainted envelope. I did not need to open it for the glue that kept the sides together had lost its power. A pile of cards fell out. They were condolences cards, sent for my brother in 1948. One card was from my parents, they wished him to have a safe journey. One card was from my sister and brother who called my brother Boeng, which means brother. Then one card was from my father. It was the shortest condolences card ever. “My King.” The cards were beautifully hand written. My mom also kept his  medical record, including  the handwritten graph of his health. A feeling of agony thrust my chest and my heart turned sore.

My mother must have tried very hard to burry her sorrows. Underneath the envelope I saw other documents. Those were the court documents. I opened the filthy documents with the tips of my finger and the smell of mold and mildew stroke my nose. The horror struck and I was repelled.  the content inside the documents were a real nightmare. They  ripped apart my heart. I cried silently for my mother, for all the pains that she had to go through. My father called her names and accused her of things  that even the devil would have abandoned them.   I needed fresh air... I needed to get out of this dreadful, traumatic, horrendous incubus.

As night fell my eyes were widely open. As the curfew fell I decided to talk to my mother and prayed. I wanted her to know how much I adore, worship, and love her.

Nb. My mother had always claimed that she had a beautiful life with her children. 

WAITING ROOM

We all sat there in rows. Silent with no word spoken. The waiting room was rather dark and chilly. I noticed the empty faces. One will never know what's inside our mind. We were there waiting for our turn to come.  The air was full of uncertainties.

A lady with two white wings appeared from the room next door. She called a name. My aunt stood and walked slowly. We followed her with our eyes. She walked and vanished into the upper room. I  noticed lines of sadness in everybody's faces. We knew that she would never come back to visit us. If we are lucky we may see her in  our dream. My mom, she wiped the gloomy tears from her eyes.

The clock was again ticking. So many seasons had gone by. My grey hair began to appear like the soft snow in winter. We were all still in the waiting  room. The squeaky doors were suddenly opened. We were all startled. Another name was announced. My sister! No...no....no.... she was still so young. I expressed my anger for an instant.... but went back to my seat as I saw her go. She turned her head and looked at me... me specifically... with her eyes full of love. My tears dropped. I could hear the sound of my tears smashed against the  hard floor.  Then silent.....as my sister has faded away....turned into nothingness.

The edgy  moments were again dangling  in the sky. Nobody had the patience. My uncle began to make movements. He called for the lady and told her...let it be my turn. But nothing happened. So he gave up and waited impatiently. Luck was on his side.... the door was suddenly opened. The lady appeared. She flapped her wings while calling my uncle's name. He jumped of his seat and went to the upper room. He looked as if he knew all the way there. He forgot the fact that he left his sister in the waiting room. His sister  which  is my mother watched him closely. He left a deep cut on her chest. The cut was so deep that her heart jumped out and fell on the floor, laying ... before it turned dry within seconds.

The room has turned so cold. I noticed my mom was shivering. I knew she cried out for the  lady. But her voice got stuck  in her throat. I spotted her weary eyed. She sat in thousands of  silence. No movements. Her pulse was louder than the sound of  the west wind. Her eyes have gradually weakened. Starring to a point until where there was only darkness, no light.  She beat the lady. She ran to the upper room before the lady called her name.

I.....am waiting......Everybody's waiting..... we are here in the waiting room.

ARE YOU THERE?

I talk to her while  she's asleep . She has been sleeping for almost a year. I wonder what is boggling in her mind . She's going to be 96 this year. She has missed her last birthday, because that was the time when she began to enter her long sleep. We all gathered together. A birthday cake with candles. We put it gently on her side. Hoping that the birthday cake would wake her up. We took turns to  wish her a happy birthday. On my turn I asked her:"Are you there?"

MOVE ON!

The election  to vote for the new governor  of Jakarta was conducted two  days ago. The quick count result has  indicated the winner. As a citizen I do vote, whoever I vote is not important to be discussed for it is my own personal choice. I am more interested to discuss the long term effect of the election. The election is over. There is a term that has been used on the net referring to those whose championed does not turn to be the winner: Move on!. “Everything is easier said than done. Wanting something is easy. Saying something is easy. The challenge and the reward are in the doing.”
The election is indeed over, but the hatred that has been spread around to support each  champion remained. Let  me take you back to  the Presidential election that occured in 2014. So much hatred were in the air. Those who claimed themselves to be the wisemen, the knowledgable person, the powerful people stood firmly to support their own champion. They threw irresponsible statements in the air, hoax and hatred speech.  The general public becomes the object. Those who have sufficient education and time selected the information they read, but those who did not have time  nor sufficient education relied heavily on the provided information around them, especially when they are readily served on your plate continously.
A philosopher claimed that the two group mentioned later are the object of power. The power is not the  ordinary power that has been  claimed so far. The power runs in  the relationships. The  injection  of power goes through discourse. The will to know brings the audience into truth of knowledge. In  simple language, their mind set is constructed by discourse, because deep down inside there is the will to know. Whatever served by the discourse will be considered as the truth.
Using race, religion, gender and discriminating people might be an excellent choice to win  the election. After the election  is over we claim that the situation is back  to normal. It is not as simple as that. The hatred that has been sown along the campaign remains in the public heart and mind. The Presidential election  is a proof. People never settles down and  remains boiling with hatred. Whatever the elected President does is always an object of  criticism of the opposing parties. Rumours spread around not less better than during the election. A rumor is a social cancer: it is difficult to contain and it rots the brains of the masses. However, the real danger is that so many people find rumors enjoyable. That part causes the infection. And in such cases when a rumor is only partially made of truth, it is difficult to pinpoint exactly where the information may have gone wrong. It is passed on and on. If one tries to go against the current, be ready to be called by any names that can amputate your hand and brain not  to mention your life.
The recent Governor election is another event that add to the process of creating new classifications among the public. We now face new classifications based on ethnic, religion, aside from the political parties, gender  issues and regional issues have prospered during the previously held Presidential campaigns. The next campaign will definitely be based again on those classifications and definitely new classifications will be added, a severe ones, the ones which will bring the public closer to the graveyeard. It is just a matter of time before the opposing views among groups will trigger the fire and burn the country. Move on.....easier said than done.