I started writing this blog for a few reasons. First, it was number 57 on my bucket list and seemed like a fairly easy one to cross off – especially compared to cliff diving and reading Crime and Punishment (numbers 29 and 63). Second, what better way to look back at my life than through a series of silly moments that slowly help define me – to know I didn’t just go through the daily motions; I actually lived my life and have the scars to prove it. But most importantly, I wanted to leave behind a piece of me that maybe most people won’t ever get to see. It’s one thing to recall the silly “Mei Mei Moments” and be able to laugh at myself… but in a way I also wanted to expose myself – even if it wasn’t a funny occasion.
We all have these moments that may very well define us or change the course of our lives altogether. I had my grandmother to get me through those moments. She was more than just a presence in my life, she WAS my life. I drew my strength from her and she did everything in her power to shield me from the horrors of reality. Losing her is still one of those things I haven’t quite found a way to get over yet. Today is her birthday and I’m overwhelmingly depressed that I can’t just curl up into her arms. There’s times I need her in the worst way. I’m reminded of that today…
Another item on my bucket list is to publish something one day. I’m hoping for an epic love story, of course – No inspiration yet, I’ll keep you posted on that one ; ) For now it’s a series of short stories that basically chronicle my biggest heartaches. (A little “woe is me” I know – but it’s when we’re our most honest.) I carry this little green notebook with me everywhere I go and in it I record every and any thought I possess. It’s me at my rawest and I guard it with everything I have. My best friend is the only person to have read it or selected pieces from it anyway. I surprisingly let someone else read something from it very recently. It was quite liberating actually… In a very big way I exposed myself and it gave me a little courage to share an excerpt from one of these stories. It’s about my grandmother:
“Sometimes late at night, I light a candle and lay on the floor. I talk to the flame as it dances. I tell her the things I’m ashamed of, the things I wish so desperately I could change about myself. I tell her how scared I am that my daughter may turn out like me, because sometimes I’m terrified just how horrible that might be. I talk about my other fears, about how alone I feel, about how I don’t want to lose the other people in my life that get me through the day. I tell her how I miss her, how despairingly much I miss her. That my world feels empty without her. And that I fill the void with too many vices. That even when I manage to kick one vice, I trade it with another or even two.I tell her I’m most scared of myself and what I’m capable of. I lay still and quiet for a while and listen hard. I don’t hear anything and it makes me even sadder. When I blow out the candle the smoke always swirls and rises, and I hope my bad thoughts go with it.”
I don’t know if I’ll ever actually publish any of these stories but maybe one day I’ll have the courage to do it. For now I have this blog anyway… and I’m okay with that for now. So I’ll keep writing, and hopefully you’ll keep reading.
RIP Rose Marie Brantman 1/17/29 – 2/12/04 I miss you in forever ways </3