a broken tape recorder

"Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me. The Carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality"- Emily Dickinson

The past week has been one for reflections- on death. I know, this probably isn't the best topic to start a blog with... Yea, its my first try at writing my two cents worth of opinion in the form of this blog, but anyhow, I've gotta start somewhere right.

Anyway, as my dad's eleventh year prayers approached last Friday, i was filled with a peculiar sense of happiness & a deep sense of loss all at the same time.

It was all mixed up. Somehow. Somewhere. It got all mixed up.

For the first time in eleven years, it felt as if he was at peace. And that thought brought tears to my eyes. At the same time, the constant ache that one feels from losing someone you love- what I wouldn't do to hear his voice for just one time...just once, to hear him say "I love you sayang"... to hear him move around the house as quietly as possible in the wee hours of dawn... to watch him walk hand in with my mum... to hear his loud, contagious laughter...to watch him running around the garden doing wheel carts at the age of 50...!

I remember him for his compassion, for his words of wisdom for the injured soul, his laughter, his warmth, his quiet disposition, his inability to say "NO" to any man, woman, child & animal in need, his " do unto others as you would have others do unto you" motto & the list would go on..and on...

As years fade away, I remember everything he's ever said to me. That's odd, isn't it. You would think that you'd forget. In actual fact is you don't. You REMEMBER. They are like broken tape- recorders; constantly playing at the back of my head. A broken- tape recorder that I'd want to hear play for the rest of my life.