My Tokpa

Four days ago, I lost someone very dear to me. Sounds familiar? Just six months after I lost my beloved Embah, I lost my beloved Tokpa. A few days before my grandfather left us, I silently prayed to God, "Please dear God, prolong my grandfather's life, and improve his health - even if it's just a little bit. I don't know if I can mentally handle another death." But, here I am.

Throughout my life, I've witnessed a number of deaths and have been to my fair share of funerals. But, none of it was like this one. I had never seen someone's life slip away right in front of my own eyes. Not only was I next to my grandfather during his last moments, but I held his hand, and monitored his pulse throughout the whole time. I felt how the veins in his hand were beating ever so faintly, how I could barely hear the sound of his heart when I rested my head on his chest, and how it eventually all just... stopped. To say that it was heartbreaking would be an understatement.

My heart broke for my dear sweet grandfather and the life he just lost, my heart broke for my dad who just lost the person he poured his heart and soul in taking care of and loving, my heart broke for myself.

After my Embah passed, I made a mental note to not take the time I have left with my grandparents for granted. I didn't want to be haunted by regret and a trail of 'what if's. So I did what I could, and what I thought was my best as a granddaughter. I got to take care of my Tokpa - I got to feed him, I got to clean him, I got to keep him entertained. And for that I thank God.

There are two versions of my Tokpa that I'm familiar with - a) The confident and hardworking family man who was always well-dressed from top to toe. The imam to our jemaah prayers. The generous man who put me through my first year of college. b) The older and playful grandpa who found joy in singing and dancing. The man who was not afraid to wear his emotions on his sleeves. The storyteller. Both of whom I wholeheartedly love and miss.

My afternoons and/or evenings now feel incomplete - as though I'm forgetting an important errand. I used to come see you everyday with Qaleed, and we'd always sing for you - the alphabet song, twinkle twinkle little star, itsy bitsy spider, and repeat. Up till your last day. The last time we sang for you, you tried your hardest to open your eyes, and your limbs were moving along to the melody. Two days before you passed, I got to hear you laugh when Qaleed tickled your feet. Who knew that would be the last time I'd hear you laugh and see you smile. I wish I had that moment on video.

Qaleed has told me he "nak see Tokpa" a few times. Who can blame him? Seeing his great grandfather was a part of his daily routine too. The first thing Qaleed said when Hafiz brought him to my grandfather's house the morning he passed was "nak see Tokpa" despite it being 3.30AM in the morning. When he saw you all covered in white cloth he said, "Tokpa play hide and seek!". When he asks about you now I don't know what else to say other than that you're sleeping peacefully in your grave.

I will miss seeing your face everyday, holding your hand everyday, singing to you everyday. I will miss taking you on our afternoon and/or evening car rides around the neighbourhood. I will miss hearing you talk about your past even though I've heard each story a million and one times.

I love you. We love you.

We know, you knew, Allah knows.

May God bless both my grandfathers, and my grandmother, forgive all their sins, and place them in the highest of His heavens.

Pak Cik Mikabear

My son is just a month shy from turning two, and he's in the midst of mastering the art of conversing with others. What I can say is that, boy.. is he a talker. He rambles, and he yaps, and he blabbers. It's honestly the cutest thing ever (it can be a little migraine-inducing at times) - he's like a little pak cik, I always say. He says a new word everyday, and I get caught off guard every single time. It's like one day he only knows five words, and the next thing you know he can form proper sentences. 

Now that he's in the talking phase, we really have to be careful of what comes out of our mouths, and choose our words wisely. Mikabear loves to repeat the things we say as though he's registering the words into his brain. He has recently started calling my husband Dabs (sometimes daddy Dabs), a name I gave my husband long before our son came along. We couldn't believe our ears when he first did it. Of course what followed were fits of incontrollable laughter. 

So anyways, my son was asking for a bottle of milk earlier today, and I was trying to teach him how to say it in an actual sentence instead of just saying "Drink milk."

Here's how our short lesson went:-

Mikabear: Mommy, drink milk.
Me: Okay, what do you say when you want to drink milk?
Mikabear: Mommy, Qald want.
Me: Qaleed want to...
Mikabear: Qald want to three four five! /runsofflaughing

.....

We obviously need to work more on that.

The Poke Bowl Incident

Here's a kinda, maybe, sorta funny story.

Over the weekend, I was once again down with a fever (screw you weak immunity system!), and was forced to stay in bed for the majority of the forty-eight hours. I hadn't eaten in two days because of a lack of appetite and a thou-shalt-have-no-mercy migraine. During the second day of me being sick, my husband happened to have breakfast plans near this newly opened poke bowl joint that we recently visited. I thought of their spicy salmon and instantly felt my appetite jolt back to life. And so of course I made my husband buy me some. While waiting for him to come back, I was already envisioning myself downing the hearty bowl of fresh and salmon goodness. The whole scene kept replaying in my head like some sort of dramatic over-staged advertisement. Need I remind you that I hadn't eaten in two days?

When my husband was on the way home, he video-called me to keep him company (yeah, we are a little clingy I guess), and after talking about random things, he proudly showed me the brown paper bag that consisted of my lunch. 

"Oh by the way sayang, I didn't know what base you wanted so I just ask for quinoa," he said ever so innocently. 

"YOU. WHAT." I probably looked like I was on the verge of a heart attack.

"Ha why? What's quinoa?!" oh, sweet husband.

"IT'S SOME HEALTHY THINGMAJIG THAT I DON'T EAT." c'mon, who eats that stuff?!

"I thought it was some fancy name for rice!" face palm. 

OMG GUYS SERIOUSLY. I mean I know one of my resolutions for this year is to eat healthier but let's get real - I'm no where near the quinoa stage! I'm not even at the brown rice stage?! I'm as asian as an asian can get, and I need my white rice dude. I honestly thought he was pulling some kind of sick prank on me because he does these kind of things pretty often so a small part of me was still hopeful. But yeah, it wasn't a joke. I don't know if it was because I was tired or just super famished, but I just started bawling when I dug into my poke bowl and saw the quinoa. 

I guess my husband felt bad about the whole ordeal because he went out and got me another bowl - with white rice this time.

".... who's gonna eat that?" I had already finished the first bowl (with leftover rice from the previous day) by then.

"I'll share with you okay?" okay. 

He ate half of it and kept the other half for me in the fridge.

As I was about to dig in on whats left of the poke bowl the next day, it turned out that my husband had accidentally finished all the salmon.

...........

Sigh, men. Can't live with them, can't live without them.

Kindness

Duck scarf

Monokerom hi-lo shirt

FV Basics culottes

H&M glitter socks

Vans sneakers

____

I've been feeling awfully uninspired, demotivated, and all things simultaneous to the two as of late. More often that I'd like, I find myself questioning my abilities at being my own boss, and having my own brand. It's hard to not feel defeated when you have to go through an endless parade of problems and delays - especially when you are a one man show. My husband keeps reminding me that a fundamental ingredient of success is perseverance, and even though I already know that, I often let it slip my mind. 

But! My mood was instantly and magically lifted when I recently and unexpectedly received compliments from two unrelated individuals about my work and what I have produced so far. That's all it took for me to escape the self-pitying limbo I was stuck in, and to recharge my creative batteries. To know that someone appreciates and actually likes what I produce just feels so infinitely gratifying. So much so that it gave me a warm, expansive feeling in my chest, and made all my previous worries seem somewhat petty. I know it may not seem much to some people - I mean it's just compliments right? Not an offer of a slot at London Fashion Week. But to people who's starting from the bottom like me, it means a massive deal. 

So this is a reminder to myself, and to anyone who reads this (probably just my husband aka my #1 fan...), if you have the chance to say something nice to someone, say it. If you have the chance to do something nice for someone, do it. Why? Because random acts of kindness, and good deeds, even the simplest act of saying gracious things to someone, can go a long way. In my case, it saved me from a possible nervous breakdown. Think about it - how great is it that we hold the capacity to make someone else's entire day?

With regards to recent events, we've all seen how one rotten apple can spoil the barrel. But can one person acting nobly spread goodness in the world? Yes, I'm pretty confident that it works both ways! Kindness is like a chain reaction, I feel. Experiencing, seeing, or even reading about others' compassion and benevolence will not only trigger warm and positive feelings within us, but it would also most likely increase the prospect of us doing good deeds of our own. And it doesn't take extraordinary heroics either. Simple human kindness is enough to open the hearts of people, and inspire us to treat others with empathy and grace. 

So practice kindness, promote kindness, experience kindness. The world we live in now has more than enough hate as it is. 

Mommy Mode: Off, Daddy Mode: On

I had a one-day job yesterday, and of course had to leave my son at home. It had been awhile since I had left him for more than three hours - the last time probably being our Indonesia trip back in May. Being away from him for the whole day reminded me of my days as a working mother. Just like I did back then, I was repetitively requesting for pictures and updates of Mikabear yesterday.

"What's Mikabear doing?"
"Has he eaten?"

"Does he miss me?!"

"Pictures please!!!"

At one point of the day, I thought to myself, "Good God, you are such a mom!". Not that it's a bad thing of course. It's just kind of funny and unexpected of me - if only my nineteen year old rebellious self could see me now!

The initial plan was to leave Mikabear in the care of my mom, but my husband had a change of plans and came back from a work trip earlier than expected. He had been away for awhile so me working gave my two boys a chance at catching up, and spending some good quality father and son time together. It was my husband's first time heading out with Mikabear alone, and knowing how much of a handful my son can be, I was legit nervous for him! But both of them survived the day without as much as a scratch. Mikabear had an ice cream all to himself, spent a century building a Lego tower at Hamley's, went on those coin-operated rides he likes so much, and even got a pair of new shoes! The kid probably had the time of his life. And as for my husband, I think he now understands what I mean when I say that Mikabear is in the 'terrible two' phase. 

Even though I missed my son wholeheartedly, having a day off from mommy duties, and being around people my age for a change was invigorating for both my mind and soul. It honestly felt like a vacation, ha-ha. Perhaps I should look for freelance jobs more often?

My Embah

Four days ago, I lost someone very dear to me. I lost my beloved grandfather whom I call Embah.

A mere half an hour before he passed away, I was on a video call with my mom who was by my grandfather's side, and all was still merry. As I was washing myself and my son up for bed, my brother came into my room with the words, "Mama just called. I think Embah dah takda."

What does he mean by he thinks Embah is no longer here? Does that mean that there is a chance that the dreaded is not true? Does that mean that they could be wrong about the whole ordeal? I had so many unanswered questions popping up in my head, but I just couldn't muster the words out. I changed into the first thing I saw, clumsily packed Mikabear's bag, and headed straight to my grandparents' house with my brothers. We rode in the car in what seemed like absolute silence, the only noise that could be heard came from the radio. Everyone was in a state of disbelief. I on the other hand was clinging on to a thread of hope. But now that I come to think of it, it was probably just me being in denial.

As we entered my grandparents' house, my uncle and cousin could be seen lifting up furnitures and rolling out carpets in preparation of the funeral. I could hear my other uncle reciting the yasin in my grandparents' room. No, it can't be true. But as soon as I laid eyes on my grandfather, the reality of it all had struck me, and it had stuck me hard. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to think. I couldn't even look at anyone in the eye. Oh, my dear Embah...

My grandfather is the definition of an old school gentleman. It isn't because of what he did or what he wore, it was because of how he behaved and who he was as a person. It was what was within him that made him a true gentleman. My grandfather was always considerate and well-mannered towards the people around him - he was almost never without a smile across his face. He possessed a great thirst for knowledge, and often strived and pushed boundaries to acquire the thing that he took so much pride in. He never paraded his success and/or good fortune, but always made sure of a good reputation. My grandfather was a simple and understated man, but yet his presence exuded a certain aura that made you just know that there was something special about him. I wonder if he ever realised how much he inspired and enriched the lives of many by simply being himself.

Dear Embah,

All that's left now are the memories I have of you. Memories of you sharing your favorite coffee-flavored candy with me. Memories of you spending countless hours at your study table. Memories of you proudly telling us of your days in Ireland. Memories of you driving your handsome red BMW. Memories of me being so intrigued by the sight and sound of you praying. And ultimately, memories of you calling me your girl. 

The last memory I have of you is you asking me to hold your hand, and I am so thankful that I got to do so during your last few days with us. I am also thankful that Mikabear, or Ciko as you liked to call him, got to meet his Tok Nyang. Although he may not remember much about you years from now, I promise to tell him stories about his Tok Nyang and how great of a man he was. 

I wish I hadn't taken the time I had with you for granted. But it is a little too late for regrets now isn't it? I will always love you, and I will always look up to you. May God forgive all your sins, and place you in the highest of his heavens.

With love,
Your one and only grand daughter 

Being a SAHM, and Dressing Up

Being a stay-at-home mom means that I don't get as many chances to dress up as I used to. I'm not implying that my son's existence inhibits me from doing so. It is merely because the number of times I step out into the outside world has significantly declined since I resigned from my AM to PM job. It's one of the hardest part about being a stay-at-home mom - feeling like you never leave the house. It feels almost like a hermetic existence. It's not that I'm unable to go out, it's just that there's simply no one to meet on weekdays - I'm already at that age where most, if not all, of my friends are already employed and settled down. There are the rare days where I get to go out for some much needed adult company with friends who are between jobs, but other than that it's usually just my little dude and I during the day. 

"Why don't you just go out with your son?" Yeah, I can do that. But a two year old is not that good of a company when you want to do adult things like grab a cup of overpriced coffee at your favourite cafe, watch an action-packed movie in the cinema (or any movie for that matter), or window shop for things you desire but probably can't afford. I'd honestly rather just stay at home where we can read books, play treasure hunt, and color, when it's just the two of us. And when I do go out on weekdays, it's usually for a quick run to the supermarket, a trip to the post office, or for little dude's weekly gym sessions. 

So it is without a doubt that I eagerly look forward to the weekend every week because it means that I get to go out, and wear extra nice clothes! I would usually pre-coordinate my outfits whether we have any particular plans for the weekend or not. It's a cheap thrill that I like to honor myself with.

Duck scarf

H&M long-sleeved top

Thrifted camisole

FV Basics boyfriend jeans

Nike sneakers

____

On another note, I don't believe being a stay-at-home mom gives you a reason to let yourself go altogether. Now, I'm not saying that we have to become Stepford housewives who always have perfect hair, perfect make up, and who wear dresses and five-inch heels to mop the floor. I'm saying that we have to take pride in our appearance no matter what. I feel that it's so easy for a stay-at-home mom to get lost in being someone's mom, and forget that they are an individual woman first and foremost. I have found that if I get dressed and look presentable instead of looking like I just rolled out of bed, I feel better about myself - I feel more motivated to do stuff and don't feel quite so home-bound. I don't dress up to the core or anything like that at home. It's more of a thing between dressed and lounge clothes - a happy medium, a certain level of smart casual. I have also recently developed an interest towards make-up (I'm a late bloomer, I know) so there are some days where I will do a quick and light fix up even if I am just staying at home. 

Taking care of yourself and your appearance is emotionally boosting and does wonders on your self-esteem. You breathe life back into yourself again, and are almost instantly reminded that yes, you are a mother, but that's not all that you are. And as a result, your kid(s) will get a more positive you, so it's a win-win situation!

PS, if you're a stay-at-home mom and desperately need some adult company, holla at me! Kidding. Actually no, I'm not.