If I were to write an epitaph, I certainly wouldn’t need to google the archive of my brain for a theme. The encyclopedia of my life with My Old Dutch would feed me enough materials to weave into any desired number of episodes.
Like any ordinary, during our pre-nuptial days, we followed suit in crafting our own blueprint of life that we will spend together. As a civil servants, to make that equation of togetherness complete, the marriage certificate is one official coupon needed to be unveiled. But unfortunately in our case, the legally powered marriage certificate was blunt to cut the commands of so-called educated officers. Today, the seven year old legal produce collectively shares the space in my closet to accumulate the dust of its maturity.
Nevertheless, the flame of our life survived thousands of tremors and tsunamis caused all due to (that illegal) separation. We always expected the light to be at the end of every tunnel of our hope. And certainly, on many occasions, we waited for the liable officials to settle the dust of our pangs owing to those painful disconnection. Since nothing could germinate over time, it has made us endure acting another episode of a real fairy tale.
Now that I am studying overseas, the dimension of our separation has augmented. We still feel the same pain but in a different form.
|Those old memories still kept young..... (way back in 2007)|
Whenever I read the lyrics of her messages, it makes me vividly remember one of my salad days where an elderly woman shared to my mother: “A life without our husband is like removing the feathers from the wings and letting to fly at the same speed throughout”. Incredible!
So salvaging her lines, I have always given a thought that I will not let this history behead the timeline of my life but failed. We realized that unless things are within our own clutch, nothing extraordinary can be performed. Thus far, we celebrated the life in our own dimension.
We have not and never entertain those history to miscarriage our hopes and dreams for future. I owe my lady who helps me manufacture strengths to believe in.
To you my lady, I also remain indebted for not letting ourselves stand on the graves of departure and weep, because you knew that our relations did not perish.
That tease and cry, mockery and argument, fight and injury all makes me think of our relation to be that of Tom and Jerry’s. No matter who lost or injured in the play, we can’t endure to live without each other.
Although we have died as much as we lived, our hopes of getting together still grows because we know that when absence was making a difference in our life, the presence should make a double difference.
“A perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other”- Anonymous