An event that mimics a certain undisclosed sense of familiarity.
We passed the people hawking flowers and scented water. Passed the many gravestones that dotted the plains (the surroundings made me feel as though i was in driving through some rural part of malaysia). Finally arriving at 9plus in the morning, with the weather hot and humid. The grave yard was unusually busy with activity. There were lots of people there, hoping to get the graves cleaned in time for Raya.
I was there just to say hi.
I pulled out the stray weeds. Wiped down the green tiles. Changed the white cloths. And after the usual cleansing routine, they left me alone for some private time with my Dad.
6 years have past. 6 long years.
And i sat there, going through some things in my head. Starting with small talk trying to lighten the mood (as if it was even neccessary). That didn't work. And it escalated into a full outpour of pent up emotions. I'm a little teapot, short and stout. Lalala......
Tears flow freely there.
And it sure as hell felt good. Except for the fact that a small number of people were nearby wondering what in the world this person was doing at a grave alone and weeping. Haha. I see dead people...?
So yeah. I don't really give a heck. Crying is my therapy. I'm not seriously ashamed of my tears. I cry too much and too freely. And if they wanted to stare, they should have just come straight up and asked me to audition for the media =)
