Better to have loved and lost, than have never loved at all.

31st of January 2011, Shadow, my first ever dog, and thus the one I've loved longest, passed away.
16th of February 2011, Prince, my beloved GSD-Belgium-Shepherd mix puppy passed away.
26th of September 2011, both my grandfather and my favourite grand uncle passed away.


Basically, 2011 is a year I'll want to forget, and never will.

It's the year I graduated. It's the year I said goodbye to an era of my life that will always remain a part of me, and goodbye to so many loved ones, both temporarily and forever. Some, I didn't even get to say goodbye.


I'm the sort of person that cries loud, but short. My grief happens in little bursts, but these could happen at literally any time. I cried for my grandfather on my Dad's side, who died years ago, just last month out of the blue. When I say I'm loud, I mean the sort of keening sobs you only see in movies. But I'm quick to calm down (these days, anyway. I think I'm getting used to losing people - I wasn't so easy to console a few months back. Mentioning my puppies would set me off.)


My brother is the same as me, although his cries are maybe not so high-pitched. He huddles in corners, his eyes covered, trying very hard to get a grip on himself. He hates people seeing him that way - what man would? 


One interesting thing about me - I can stay silent and not grieve for a very long time. Bottle it all up. However, if anyone asks how I'm holding up, or if I'm doing okay, or makes any sort of reference to the incident and how it relates to me, I will break down. And when I break down, I break. It's a bit embarrassing in retrospect, but I couldn't give a damn at the time. And that's perfectly alright.


When I found out about my grandfather's death (he's on my mother's side), I'd been in my room listening to music. I heard my father shouting for me, so I hurried into the master bedroom - his tone was a bit panicky. When I entered, I saw my mother standing on her side of the bed (she'd probably been trying to walk to her cupboard or the dresser), the phone clutched tightly in one hand, the other folded at the elbow over her eyes. She was crying out so loudly, with so much grief, so much anguish, I couldn't help but freeze in horror. Her head was thrown back, baring her throat to any force that wished to take her. And my father quickly said, "Kake just died." Kake (pronounced Kah-Kay) had testicular cancer, diabetes, no right foot, and other problems to add to that. 


I ran to my mother, hugging her tightly, cradling her head, trying to make her stop the sobs. It was heartbreaking. She hadn't thought it would happen. Kake was taken ill with similar symptoms to those he had today a few years ago - we all flew in, expecting the worst, but it turned out he was just dehydrated. So when she got the call in the afternoon saying he'd been rushed to the hospital, she'd assumed it was another false alarm. My Uncle Joy had just died that morning too (favourite grand uncle, related to us by marriage to my grandmother's oldest sister), at the ripe old age of 92. She didn't think there'd be another death in the family.


Who would?


Mum's at the airport now. She and her older sister, Yolany's mum. I wanted to go - she didn't let me. She said I had to stay and take care of my father and brother. Aehshaan can't afford to miss anymore school (he missed the first 2 weeks), and my dad needed to stay and work. I needed to stay behind and look after them, and Bruno. 


Writing actually helps a lot. Writing how I feel, and what happened. Puts things in perspective, reading it all through again. Reminds me of the rawness of the emotions of the time. 


It's wonderful, awe-inspiring how people come together in a crisis. I'd called Adnan almost immediately, sobbed the news over the phone, so that was me taken care of. Aehshaan and I both called our cousins to make sure they were alright - Yolany was taking it better than Yoan, apparently. Aunty Michelle and Aunt Fathi came right over, immediately. Much hugging and taking care of Mum took place, while the rest of us ran about the house making sure everything was packed and that the tickets were taken care of. At the airport, Uncle Rajesh, Aunty Rochelle, Gillian and Joann were all there to help Mum and Yolany's mum through everything. They checked them in, handled the luggage, made sure everything went smooth.


I am so, so grateful for the people in my life. These people that come at a moment's notice, drop everything when their friends need them. They're so rare. Sure, there are disagreements along the way - but all families fight. And we're all family, really. Our friends are the family we chose. The family we chose to love.


Thank you, to all those people that came. Thank you, to all those people who keep us in their prayers. Thank you, to all those people who have ever, no matter how briefly, loved us.


Peace.

Phoenix Rising

Erm. I found this post under my drafts - apparently never posted the thing. So here it is.


A bird decided to make its nest in the tree right outside our house. I think it was a sparrow. Either way, there was a tiny little baby bird within about 2 or three weeks, and our family was thrilled. We never touched it, of course, because we didn't want to freak out the Mummy Bird, and we didn't want to disturb the nest.


Yesterday, Mum noticed that the nest was tilting onto its side. She wanted to go correct it, but Aehshaan and I dissuaded her for fear of causing more harm than actual good. We figured the Mummy Bird would do it herself. It's her duty, after all, isn't it?


Not so. This morning, sadly, we found the poor little thing on the ground right outside the tree. Such a shame, too. I really regret not getting Mum to interfere after all, but at the same time, I'm kind of glad she didn't. Not out of any sadism or anything - merely because right now, she is determined to blame herself (and us, mind you) for the bird's death. If she had gone and done something to the nest, and God still killed the little bird, she would blame herself much, much worse. At least this way there's less pain for her, I guess?


We held a small burial for the bird, in a corner of the garden. It was beautiful, really. It was buried under a tree, with flowers on the grave. I said a few words.


I really hope that little bird does rest in peace. And if it's true that all animals go to Heaven, then all the better. It had a short life, but it was loved for the time it was here. 


Maybe the bird's meeting up with Prince and Shadow as we speak. They must be having a good time up there. For those who don't know, Prince and Shadow were two of my dogs. They died a fortnight apart from each other, taken by the same disease - Shadow on the 31st of January, and Prince on the 16th of February.


I may as well use this post to say something about them.


I got Shadow from an old lady who didn't have the time to take care of her. She was about 2 months old when we got her - a tiny little thing, really. Terrified of other dogs (We got our other dog, Rover, on the same day) but fiercely defensive of the property, even at that age. She was very easy to love, too. She was a mongrel, but she didn't eat like one. She picked at her food, and generally got bullied out of eating by Rover. We had to stand and watch to make sure Rover didn't chase her off and eat all the food herself.


As for her name, we knew that Shadow was what you would call a male dog. However, we'd already planned names for our dogs, and eating plans, and everything (we were at that age *grin*). So when we got two females instead of two males, we just decided to keep the name. 


We got Prince last year. He was only 6 months old at the time, born February 14th 2011. We brought home him and his sister, Persia, from an aunt who had about a dozen dogs already and wanted to give these two away to good homes. We took them both because we didn't want to separate them. They were our Valentine Dogs.


Prince was lovely. He and Persia were both pitch-black, so that you couldn't see them at all at night. Prince wore a dark red collar, Persia a choker. Yes, they were named for the movie, The Prince of Persia. Haha, that was my idea. 


Anyway, a mosquito-ridden disease somehow infected Shadow. I can't remember the name right now, but it affects your heart. Shadow died on a Monday, but I didn't find out about it until the following Wednesday. This was due to my mother knowing how much I loved my dog, and how I would react. I reacted as predicted, of course. I cried for days.


And then we found out that Prince was sick with the same thing that took Shadow, and that he wouldn't make it. I cried about that too, but praying about these things doesn't seem to work. If they're going to go, they're going to go. When Prince died, it still came as something of a shock to us. I think deep down we believed that he would be saved or something - that God couldn't be so cruel as to take both of them from us at the same time.


Persia managed to survive, miraculously. She caught it too. When I say miraculously, I mean because Prince was always the stronger of the two. We didn't actually expect Persia to make it too, but she's a fighter. She did.


I miss my dogs all the time. Even more so now, knowing I won't see them again. But life goes on, and time heals all wounds. Just because the pain of their deaths have faded, doesn't mean the love has. And they will always live on in our memories.


So. Rest In Peace; Shadow, Prince, and little baby bird. 


You were are loved.