Aaah I jest you not. The past month has whizzed past like nothing else. I spent quality time with my father and see traits of him that only a die hard fan can.
There may be few people in this world who do not love their father to death. My emotion is hardly any different. And by no means do I feel that I could do any justice to my view of my procreator in these few paragraphs.
He is an absolute super star. An A1 personality. Bright, charming personality, strongly grounded to his roots, humble beginnings, star studded aspirations yet heavily conscious of his ground zero. That's what keeps him sane in an undoubtedly crazy world around him.
From where I see him, I see my hero. A man who can falter but never do any wrong, a man who wouldn't think twice before coming to the aid of the same person who may have stabbed him on the back.
From where I see him, its his imperfections that have made him a perfect son, a perfect brother, a perfect husband, a perfect father and a perfect human being.
From where I see him, he loves nothing more than seeing my mother smile, enjoys nothing more than seeing my sibling and me hug, prides nothing more than our small victories in life.
From where I see him, he is perfect. My father, with his short temper, with his insane necessity to be more than perfect, his need to be super super crazy clean, his zest for life, with his "never say die" attitude, is nothing short of perfect.
From where I see him, my hero has his head high, his ego low, his eyes on the stars, his feet firmly grounded. My hero sits high up that pedestal and I shall forever be grateful to have this beautiful person, to have and to hold, and to lovingly call, my father.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Tears in heaven
I looked out of the flight window, thinking why is it that I have gotten so many signs of my past over and over. Past memories flood through my brain. Remind me of the lost. Things that I let go, things that let go of me. Nevertheless, they seem etched in my mind and soul.
How can one ever stop loving, I asked aloud once. I finally did. I gave up. Gave up trying to fool myself. Gave up the girl in me who was the dreamer aka the "self-pain-inflicter". When hearts break, there is no noise. It feels like an explosion but if I were to describe it, it would be so.
Two people staring into each other's eyes fooling themselves and each other that the moment would last forever, that the pain would not, that there could be some sane way of making things work, that the insanity that lead to this moment is unreal, that the imagined happiness is fact, and the factual pain inflicted is fiction.
Why is it that happiness and joy are never as long lasting as pain and tears? Why then are memories of happy times recollected more than the reasons for which the present is in fact present? The smiles that used to be smiles thought of more?
Some of us have a very special gift. Of forgiving and forgetting. I seem to be able to forgive or at least try to but can never seem to forget. What is a very romantic quality to have when you are in the middle of a relationship becomes an extremely painstaking delusion when it ends. Works something like this: reflections and stories fly past my mind almost like a movie but with no reasonable starting or ending point. It's like a super sonic flow of happy and sad.
Today I ask... How can one ever forget? How do you shut off the images, erase the virtually endless reels running through your head?
How can one ever stop loving, I asked aloud once. I finally did. I gave up. Gave up trying to fool myself. Gave up the girl in me who was the dreamer aka the "self-pain-inflicter". When hearts break, there is no noise. It feels like an explosion but if I were to describe it, it would be so.
Two people staring into each other's eyes fooling themselves and each other that the moment would last forever, that the pain would not, that there could be some sane way of making things work, that the insanity that lead to this moment is unreal, that the imagined happiness is fact, and the factual pain inflicted is fiction.
Why is it that happiness and joy are never as long lasting as pain and tears? Why then are memories of happy times recollected more than the reasons for which the present is in fact present? The smiles that used to be smiles thought of more?
Some of us have a very special gift. Of forgiving and forgetting. I seem to be able to forgive or at least try to but can never seem to forget. What is a very romantic quality to have when you are in the middle of a relationship becomes an extremely painstaking delusion when it ends. Works something like this: reflections and stories fly past my mind almost like a movie but with no reasonable starting or ending point. It's like a super sonic flow of happy and sad.
Today I ask... How can one ever forget? How do you shut off the images, erase the virtually endless reels running through your head?
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