grief

[Entry 4]

it's been about 4 years since you've gone. it's crazy how time flies by, huh. the past 4 years has been such a, such a wild ride. I've experienced so many things, met so many people, made so many new friends. I've gone through some highs and lows (you being gone wasn't the only low ok, though it was quite hard). got my heart broken, and still working through that now.

i wish you were here to see the person that i am growing into, to see the person i am changing into. maybe you could give me some pointers, some advice, some guidance. I feel like at this stage of life, I'm like a boulder sitting at the edge of a cliff. once it starts rolling, it's not gonna stop. 2 years... 5 years... 10 years... life is going to move very quickly.

i want to tell you about my heartbreak affairs too, and i think this time, i'd actually listen to you. but i guess it's too late. It's always too late huhh, for those who are finally ready to listen, normally the chance is already gone. i think you'd like her, though. but i think i kind of know what you are going to say. See, even in death, you're a pretty good dad.

i find people around me sort of weird (i am aware i am more often than not the weird one in the group). i find it hard to fit in sometimes. yeah, i have some really, really good friends. but i think in general, i find it hard to find a group of people who think like me, who want the same things, or can even understand me at that level, yk. she could though. thinking about it now, i don't even know how many friends i have that i can really share things with. part of the reason why losing her was so painful was because it felt like we saw a lot of things the same way, so it felt like we could really understand each other, and i think we really did. i lost a good friend, most of all.

i feel very lonely most of the time. they say you can talk to God, but like, i cant video call Him, yk. wonder what you would say to that. maybe some day i will find people i resonate more deeply with. or maybe it's just a me problem. it's probably a me problem.

listening to the songs you liked helps me remember you. dead people don't just exist in our memories, but in the places we've been and songs we listen to. 4 years... man. it's scary how fast time flies. i don't have a lot of "4 years" to just go by anymore. gotta just do what i want and not hesitate anymore. i've wasted enough "4 years"... but these 4 years have been tough without you.

wonder if you've been keeping up with my life in your own way. in dead people ways, hehe. they say eternity is now too, and that we don't go to heaven or hell immediately after we die. super curious how that's like for you. idk if we can communicate by like, yea idk. or if we just go back to being dust when we die fr. that would be kinda anticlimactic, but it is what it is (i don't think that's the case la).

anyways, it's been nice talking to you. i'll check in with you again soon. hopefully before another 4 years have gone by.

actually, wow, writing this now, i realise i checked in with you at around the same time as last year. I mean, it is about that time of year...

it's been good, dad.

Last updated: 30/7/2026.

[Entry 3]

Hi daddy. It's been awhile since we last talked. I've missed you, and so has the rest of the family.

You know, I should be studying right now, instead of writing this letter to you. But, I just had this sudden urge to write to you, and so I did. If you saw how undisciplined I was right now, you'd shake your head and sigh, with a faint smile underneath all that 'disapprovement'... haha.

Maybe you always knew that I was secretly up to something when I was doing something else instead of what I was supposed to. You understood me well.

Thing is, I just miss you daddy. I wish you were here. I could really use some advice from you right now.

You always told me to pursue my passion, that once I've made my decision, to just go all in and never look back. I feel like I've let you down on that.

There's something profoundly lonely in chasing one's passion. A path that does not come with guarantee of fame nor wealth, success nor fulfillment. Maybe that's why most people don't.

But I've thought about it for awhile. I think it just wasn't truly my passion. My original path was leading me away from God, not towards. But I was also just really lazy la. It wasn't enough to give me a sense of purpose.

Anyways, I ended up taking a different path.

I just found a pretty good job. One that sets me up for success, and expects me to meet standards well above that of the ordinary. I'm really excited for it. Not because of its future prospects, but because I know, and I see that everyday when I wake up, I first run to God for wisdom and for His presence everyday before I start work. Was that how you did it, too? Maybe that's why you were so passionate about people. It's a banking job, though. I never knew what you thought about banking. Wish you could tell me now.

I've also been very dumb with my love life lately. Granted, it's somewhat in the past, but I would have loved to hear your perspective on it. You would have knocked some sense into my thick skull.

I always hated when you'd point out good looking girls to me while we were walking down the street, or while we were traveling. I always thought it was cringe. But now, I've come to really miss it.

It's an exciting time in life for me right now. The winds are changing. I can't wait for the journey ahead, because I know it'll bring me closer to God, and make me a better version of myself.

I just wish you were here to support me. To tell me you love me. To tell me you are proud of me.

I miss your voice, your smile. I miss the way you hug me.

To this day, I am so thankful for all that you've done. You've been the best father to me, even in death.

Sometimes, your voice and His voice sound similar. Have you been praying for me, too?

Love you, daddy.

Last updated: 20/7/2025.

[Entry 2]

The inability to feel true joy.

I can't experience joy for what it is anymore. I mean I can, but it's only for a short period (like a few heartbeats), before the feeling of impending doom takes over (again). It's like I'm always on my toes, ready for anything bad to happen, no matter how good things may seem to be in the moment.

This feeling impresses itself most deeply when I'm with my family. It didn't help that the events leading up to my dad's death were filled with nothing but pure joy, gratitude and love. I like to think that God was allowing us to unknowingly enjoy our last moments together, but it's just impossible for me to experience pure joy anymore after that.

To draw a clearer picture of what I mean, one day before his death, I spontaneously thanked my dad for everything that he ever did for me. I told him how thankful I was in the way he brought me up, the school he chose to sent me to, the choices he made throughout my life in thought of me (and my sister and brother), and the scoldings throughout my youth. I just, out of nowhere, while we were having lunch at a restaurant in Penang, said all of that to him. It was very out of the blue. I didn't know why but I just had the urge to say these things to him. Then, on that same night, I played the guitar for him while he sang his favourite songs. It was beautiful, the night before he passed.

But now, if I ever come even remotely close to such a wholesome moment with my family, I feel nothing but dread and the anticipation of something terribly bad happening. My mind goes on high alert and my heart starts to race, ready for the next terrible thing to happen. My chest would feel like war drums sounding, fully consuming me and taking me out of the present, thinking that only horror will follow. If I'm always ready for the next bad thing to happen, life couldn't catch me by surprise anymore, right?

It takes away from experiencing the moment. But maybe that's just how life is. You can't have everything your way, hun. We can only try to make the most out of what we have, to seize and to live each moment to its fullest...

We all live a life that's broken in some way, but I believe the beauty lies in-between the cracks. :)

Last updated: 13/10/2023.

[Entry 1]

It’s been 274 days since the sudden passing of my dad, but I remember every moment of the night of his death vividly, as if it just happened last week. It’s crazy to think that we’re coming up on the 1-year anniversary of his death.

Ever since he passed, I’ve felt this gaping chasm in my heart. It’s not a chasm or hole that can be simply filled by others, like a romantic relationship, a close friendship, mentorship; or even mothership, for that matter. It’s like breaking the foundation of everything you once knew about the world, the perception of the world you once knew just crumbled before you. It’s the sudden removal of order, with chaos ensuing, filling every part of life until you’ve learnt to cope with it, externally and internally. All of the thought and security that you once laid your trust on, just gone. Suddenly, it’s like you’re left to float in unending empty space, with nothing to anchor you. No security, no truth, at least for a brief moment. Life, as you know it, becomes that. It becomes floaty, dreamy. It becomes uncertain, perhaps permanently; and painful, at least until you’re able to find a new way to anchor yourself.

I guess that’s what it’s like, to fall into chaos. Life isn’t and will never be what you used to know anymore. Then it takes time, and effort. A LOT of effort, to bring about some semblance of order back into life. To restructure the world as we know it without an axiom we once had. It’s like trying to make ABC soup without using potatoes, and looking for alternatives. The new product won’t be ABC soup anymore, but you’d call it ABC soup anyway. Restoring order isn’t easy. It’s difficult, and it’s a new and increased effort you have to put in everyday.

Life is uncertain, that’s for sure. I wish I talked to my dad more. He had so much insight, and was always so wise. I love him like no other.

It’s a weird feeling. I don’t think anything will ever replace the hole my father left. It’s been almost a year, and I feel like nothing’s changed. The pain is still there. It still hurts, but I’ve just gotten used to it. At this point, crying is like, “This again? It won’t change a single thing. What’s the point of even crying anymore.” It’s like I’ve learnt to live with grief, and maybe that’s how it is. That’s how people who’ve lost loved ones continue to live.