A friend once asked me how I could find time to manage 3 blogs, and my honest answer was, I really don't. I have a blog about my scuba diving adventures, and another one about my beloved dog, and for someone like me who has verbal diarrhea, it isn't too hard having something to say. But the problem is, just like everyone else, I'm tired after work, and I'd much rather laze around in the name of "recuperating". So just like everyone else, my oft used excuse for putting off something, is that "I have no time". But as the days, months and years leave me behind, my precious few brain cells are increasingly struggling to even remember what happened last week. However, as my wife knows, my mind remembers the most useless of information, like music and movie trivia, passing jokes.. things that really don't matter nor are of any use.
I have been blessed to have experienced some very rich events in my life, be it happy or otherwise. I believe that we shouldn't just remember the good stuff, but also the less than happy memories. No, I'm not saying we should dwell and wallow, which I had often done in the past. But rather, remembering our mistakes is a way of keeping ourselves in check, serving as markers to keep us on the right path.
I've started living my own life only in the last couple of years, with so much happening the in the space of time since I decided to let me heart decide. I had chosen to follow my heart when it came to major decisions of my life, for better or for worse, including meeting my wife (and since my wife is an avid reader of my blogs, I'm telling everyone, it's the BEST thing ever! I love you, B! *winks*), and my group of wonderful friends from every corner of life and of the world. Even through my share of downs, I had also been lucky in having friends who were there to pick me up.
"There are so many little things that we take for granted in life", such a cliche, but isn't it all so true? In fact, it IS the most obvious stuff that we are blind to. Taking a short walk to the cafeteria today to buy lunch, there were so many things that overwhelmed me, and made me smile: the sunshine on my face, the happy chattering of voices, the familiar faces waving at me and asking how I've been. There will come a sad day when all this would just fade to black, when I might forget these simple joys, when I struggle to recall the loving faces around me. Yes, I am terrified of losing my memory, and yes, I am perhaps avoiding the inevitable. There will come a day when I will be a mere shadow of who I am now.. just like my father.
Sharing candidly, my relationship with my dear father had always been strained. He had always demanded the best from us, and I had rebelled against that, seeing it as him exerting his dominating will over mine. But as I matured through the years, and I put aside my selfish prejudices, I understood how he'd struggled to give us what he felt was the best for us, and the sacrifices he went through for us. So often, he (and my mum) had bailed my sorry ass out of messy situations. He has always been the big man of the house, always strong, and seemingly invincible. Then came his stroke, and then the onset of Parkinson's Disease (PD). Honestly, I think he was very lucky with his episode of stroke in that it didn't do as much damage as mum's did to her, but I reckon it's the PD that is ravaging him now. Sure he's in his 70s, but the signs are obvious: his worsening shuffling gait, soft speech, increasingly small handwriting, forgetfulness, etc. No matter how old you are, you'd still see your father as being larger than life, so seeing him shrivel.. it's heartbreaking.
What's more frightening than seeing my own father slowly becoming less the big man that he was? Waiting for the possibility that my turn will come soon. The fear of forgetting the warm loving of the people who mean the world to me, the wonderful memories becoming random firings in my struggling mind, the simple pleasures that I had enjoyed becoming meaningless. I loved my life of adventures, being active, trying to live my life to the fullest. I simply cannot imagine being a walking zombie, with no recollections of those memories, no impressions of the people that I've met. I fear that.. more than death itself.
So before that happens, I want to be able to chronicle my memories and thoughts so that I might be able to read about it even though it might seem like it was never my life. I hope that after pulling apart all the words, you might be able to identify with what I'd written. If you like what you've read, please feel free to share my entries via the various means found below, or leave a comment below.
Come back soon!
