christmas

5.3pm, dec 12, 2004
the girls and i decided to celebrate christmas this weekend. we pulled out all the stops: huge roast chicken, roasted vegetables, stuffing, gravy, strawberries and melon and champagne-- and that was just the christmas meal. that's not counting the ginger cookies, the christmas cakes (shaped like presents and christmas trees), the Cadbury Roses, the chocolate fudge, the cheese bits, the TWIGLETS...sigh.
kate outdid herself. she cooked everything and arranged the whole deal. a bit of a kitchen nazi, that one-- but i don't mind at all.
we ate, opened presents and vegged out in front of the tv to watch santa clause the movie. I haven't seen that in years and i was surprised that it was still good for me. i'm a bit nostalgic right now. this day really cheered me up, though it's hard to be non-stop happy when you've got things on your mind.


***


all my grande dames are leaving me. i grew up, surrounded by all these sweet, funny, loving women and one by one they're saying goodbye. when you're young, it's hard to imagine anything changing. you think that everyone and everything around you is as strong and new as you are. then you grow up and the people you love begin to bend and creak and you notice that their hair is turning grey, then white. when they're gone, you're never ready for it.

when lola died, i remember watching the machines. little boxes pulsing zigzag lines, trying not to lie straight, not to lie flat. tubes and plastic pumps working steadily. everything in that room was in good working order. i remember staring at her very hard, hoping that if i prayed and begged and pleaded in my head, this wouldn't be that sort of day.

when ninang died, she'd been sick for a long time, so we were expecting it. but just because you know something is coming doesn't mean you're ready for it. she's been gone for months and i'm still not ready. sometimes my grief will hit me at odd moments, in the shower, watching a film, overhearing a little old lady talk about her daughter. my face will crumple up for a second and no one has to know what's going on. last week, a few days before my birthday, i dreamt that i was at home, in the dining room having a birthday merienda that was turning into a birthday dinner when someone announced: hey, your surprise birthday guest is here! and ninang walked into the room. i wonder if that dream was supposed to mean something.

on the morning of my birthday, i had 47 missed calls on my phone. i didn't think much of it, except that my family must have been trying to ring me all morning to say happy birthday. but when i rang them back, the first thing they said was: we're in the hospital. say something to a-mah, say you love her. what followed was this awkward, frantic attempt to tell her i loved her in chinese, which i could hardly do when she was alive because i never learned to speak it properly. jp would take the phone and coach me and place the phone next to her ear and i'd try to say the words through the blubber and the gasps. i used to show her i loved her by curling up next to her, by holding her hand, by kissing her cheek, by hugging her as firmly as i could. i'm miles away and i'm not sure she understood what i was trying to tell her. yesterday morning, i got a call at 5.30am from my father to let me know she had gone. they've taken her body to the crematorium and her ashes are in our home.

on a better day, i'll write a lighter essay on what it's like to watch a person die. so far i've seen two and tried to imagined one. there's so much more than pathos going on. there's the wait, the break-times, the religious song and dance (one day i shall explain) the booboos and the blubberings, the false alarms. minsan telenovela, minsan sitcom, minsan carnaval.


***


before i finished off the bit about my grand old ladies, i'd just had my christmas pudding and some light company. living alone is tough in the sense that when you're going nuts, there's no one you can really rely on to set you straight. you have to snap out of it because no one will be there to hug you or say: there, there, have a hot bath, eat some chocolate cake. (and it's really not the same when you're saying these things to yourself. believe me i've tried.) i know i sound like a melodramatic loon but so far i've only ever written when i've been sad. i started this because i was sad.

and writing the bit about my sweet old ladies has gotten me down again so i think i'm going to go back into the living room to play monopoly or watch the OC Christmukkah Episode (don't ask. my flatmates are freaks-- but they are lovely freaks.) got to snap myself out of this.