Big Brother Goes Home

I'm making an emergency trip tomorrow morning, folks. The Ox is headed back to Perak. My mum called earlier this afternoon, and she sounded upset. I admit, I haven't been the best son these past couple years and sometimes it does rankle on my conscience, but there are things I've had to do and choices I've had to make that my parents will never really understand. Maybe I'm being selfish here, but in my view at least it's better that I not worry them too much about myself and let them concentrate on my younger siblings. Sometimes I just wish my family could be like some others I know, but I accept that everyone is different, and that any mistake I've made (or will make) will be my of my own choosing, and done with full knowledge of the consequences.

Hmm.

Funny that as we grow up (in my case, at least) our perceptions of our families change. We slowly shed our naivete, like a butterfly shedding its coccoon and we begin to perceive truths, half truths and in some cases even lies that would never be apparent to us 10 or even 5 years ago. I sometimes wonder if it's a bad thing. Growing up in my adopted hometown, I remember always asking if there was anything more to life, if the strange restlessness I felt was normal or if it was only me. I never questioned my mother's strange reluctance to go out, or why she would get so sad. Neither would I understand until very much later why she always seemed stressed when my grandma was around. As for my father, I still remember him as the silent, logical man of the house. Never complaining, always with that formal air that (I guess) MCKK and later UM planted in him. Sometimes I wish I knew more about them, and I try from time to time. After 25 years I realise I can't wait for them to start talking, so I do. Admittedly that's easier said than done. My sister and I until now, endeavour to save anything that might tell us something about what they were like.

When I was thirteen I left home, and I guess in a way my friends (and the outside world) took over my parents' place then. They were sorely missed at first, but as time went on I could feel myself getting more and more distant until the only things left were the values they taught me when I was a bright-eyed, chubby cheeked kid, and the world seemed so big, and so promising. Though much of me has changed, (thank God) I still remember the basic advice they gave me, and though many were my misdeeds, I did my best to protect them from anything that would hurt. Then again, of course you could argue that it's an amazingly selfish take on things. Oh well.

Amazing how much a person can change. I've changed an awful lot in the past few years, but I like to think that inside I'm still pretty much the same boy they kissed goodbye 12 years ago, and that I still love them, regardless. Right now without their knowing, I'm going through one of the most difficult periods in my life, and I wonder what it would be like to be able to talk about it like some of my other friends do. Some things we'll always wonder, I guess.

I wonder if I'll be man enough, or if I'll ever be ready for the time when they won't be around anymore.

Mak, ayah, I AM sorry. I wish I could tell you everything, but if there's one thing I CAN and WILL tell you, it's that I do love you both.
And whatever paths I may walk in the future (though you'd probably disagree with most of them), you'll walk with me.

Pray for me, yeah? (you too, kay? you know who you are)