2015 in review

The year 2015 didn’t really start on a great note. I got hurt, got my entire extended family hurt, and ended up feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. But then, I survived. Once I cut out the toxicity, I was able to quite magically recover, almost instantaneously.

Somewhere down the year, I learnt to smile again. Be myself again. Be funny, be loved, and be great at what I do for a living. I learnt to drive. Went for long drives by myself. Treated myself to a vacation with some amazing friends. Met new people. Made new friends.

A few months later, self-healing in the form of reiki reached me. What started off as a one-time, what’s the harm in trying project, has now become a permanent part of my life. The positivity, the ability to react to situations without getting too emotional, and to heal myself and heal others has been quite a life-changing experience.

And then I started running. With marathoners. Alongside passionate runners. Though it happened by pure chance, I got hooked. I loved the runs. I loved Cubbon Park in the mornings. The sweaty realizations. The calm determination to keep up with the others. The painful stretches afterward. I fell in love.

I moved out. I moved to a bigger, more beautiful place. Closer to work, but more importantly closer to peace. The quiet of the new place has instilled a new sense of peace within myself. A close friend is now a mother. A closer friend is well on her way to become one. I have become a proud aunt this year.

I have always wanted to see snow. I have grown tired waiting for someone who will take me there. And so I am going to the Himalayas. I have never gone on a vacation by myself, let alone an arduous trek. But by the end of 2015, I would have those two items crossed off my bucket list.

So, in conclusion, I would say the year turned out pretty amazing. Life remains beautiful.

I wonder

The finality of death scares me. It is like reading the last chapter of your favorite book. As it slams shut, so does your complete identity. What you liked, how you talked, who you hated, how you laughed.

You are just a mere reconstructed memory. Sometimes glorified, sometimes damned, but mostly forgotten.

Sometimes, I wonder how it would be if I knew you were slipping away to the other side of the rainbow.

Would I have kept up the promise of laying with you on a bed of grass, watching planes roar above our heads? Would I have talked about my dreams and your fears? Would I have not just laughed heartily at your jokes but also comforted you in your dread? Would I have given you a goodbye hug instead of a nonchalant wave, the last time we had dinner together? Would I have been more me if I had known you only had 10 more days here?   

I wonder.