Today is the birthday of my grandmother. She passed away three years ago. Nevertheless, we still gather on this day every year in celebration of Christmas, which is not really the birth date of Christ but just a festival for its commemoration.
The not-so-good news is that I can’t attend this family reunion since I still have work and should stay in the office until around 7PM later after the team meeting. If I leave at exactly 7PM, I’ll reach home by 8:30 to 9PM.
This morning while in cubicle 2 of the restroom, I had a split second of thought of my grandmother. In a quick instant, a huge puddle of water splashed out on me from cubicle 3. I knew right before entering cubicle 2 that there was no one in the next stall. When I got out, I checked cubicle 3 and found that it was unoccupied. Whoa. It felt a little creepy in there! Do you think it probably was my grandmother who did it?
Every time I miss her, I plug a picture of her in my mind–chubby, warm, bubbly and healthy who always wears a smile–and then I’ll hug her tightly from behind. This habit has been like a balm to soothe the “wounds.” Along with this, I’ve come to an idea that we can love someone only so much, but we can never love him or her as much as we can miss the person.
My grandmother was the first who entered the regions of immortal felicity among all who are close to me. I went terrible, literally, after knowing that she has “gone home.”
Then there goes the afterthought: Appreciate what you have when you have it because you don’t know how much something means until you lose it. And maybe that makes you love them a little less, maybe you don’t tell them as often as you should that you love them. Sometimes you forget how much they love you. But the truth is, you love them. And you would miss them, more than you could ever love them, if they were gone.
I wonder where she is right now. Life after death remains to be a puzzling endeavor to me. What’s in there? I don’t know. Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever know. Not sure if I want to. I am content for now with the little understanding I have of the universe. I’m more concerned of my own sanity than spreading the gospel of deities.
God knows I’d rather be a jolly, plain IT professional (for now) than a philosopher.
But yeah, wherever she is, I hope her soul is at peace. It was through her that I learned that we don’t have to be a genius or win a Nobel Prize to be a remarkable person. My grandmother lived a simple life as a caring, loving and hardworking house-maker.
The life she lived extolled that being remarkable is what’s in your heart. And maybe it’s enough to love others and to treat them well, and maybe that’s all that life is about. You don’t need a theorem about love to know how to love. You don’t need a remarkable achievement to be remarkable.
On the other side of spectrum, I am terrified of not meaning anything to the world, of just fading away without making a difference, me not being the right person, me never making the right choices or leave even a small legacy. This is why I stick to being good. But often I ask, “How good do you have to be to be considered to be ‘a good person’?”
Maybe the answer lies within ourselves; if we feel we’re good enough, we are. If we set ourselves impossible standards of goodness, we suffer.
The good news is that there are only six hours left before FREEDOM! We’re flying to Thailand tomorrow morning and returning back to Manila on Monday afternoon. For this, I’d be completing my work/life balance list which our manager asked us to fulfill before the year ends. (Visiting another country is the last item I’ve written on it.) Yay!
I’m totally excited for the vacation that awaits hours ahead! I’m so happy. Today is one of the best days of my life. Imagine feeling “imprisoned” and then breaking away. It’s probably one of your best days, too.
You just have to believe it. 🙂