A pocketful of regret

Dear Ahma,

You were realistic and selfish even toward your own kin's; you were calculative and had done so many things that never would one imagine a mother would do. You had so many people despising you and frankly speaking I had grown up hating you until one point of my life when I had learned to love you instead. Yes you might not be the best grandmother around, heck you're not even an ordinary one to start with and you are definitely not the type of grandmother that I wish I had but I never wanted to lose you and definitely not this quick. Looking at you lying motionlessly on that bed I tried so hard to recall the last time I actually spoke to you and realize that it was a month ago and the words you told me was, "Bye. Come again next week," and I had nodded my head vehemently although I knew that I wasn't going to see you the week after because I would be working. I consistently blame you for not being the grandmother that I wanted but was I ever a good granddaughter to you? You took care of me when I stayed at your house and in return what have I ever done for you? I promised to take you out for dinner after I got my first salary but in the endless cycle of working and spending money on unnecessary things I never managed to do that. Even when you were admitted to hospital I only manage to visit you once and the moment I saw you suffering from stroke I couldn't even muster my courage to call you ahma because I was afraid that I would break down and now I wouldn't have the chance to call you anymore in the future; I wouldn't have the chance to tell you that I'm doing well in my studies; I wouldn't have the chance to bring my special one home for you to inspect and criticize; I wouldn't have a chance to be filial to you anymore because all I have is the regret that I wasn't good enough to you when you were still alive.

From:

Me

Writing my dreams

A career you love or a career that pays? Money does matter to me but I do believe that passion triumphs all. I had registered for college and will be taking up journalism. Despite how others deem this job to be tiring, lifeless and do not pay much, I'm still adamant about doing this for life. I believe that a job that you love doing will eventually pay. Although I'm still a lil insecure about my writing ability and still finds it hard to believe that people are complementing me on my pieces, I decided to follow my heart and go through with my decision.

Will be resigning end of this month and frankly speaking, I'm a little heavy hearted. I started this job feeling scared and stress out but eventually I grew to love it; the different type of people you meet everyday, the quirky and lively colleagues, and obviously the money I'm making. I had even thought of staying in this industry but decided the better of it. In the near distant future I might venture back into this line but for now I will just concentrate on my enthusiasm on starting college and staying at the hostel. My hostel fetish might wane off after a few weeks but for now I'm all hyped up about being independent.

Lost perhaps?

Its the feeling of utter loneliness amidst being in a huge crowd of people; its being happy and depressed at the same time; its the feeling of not understanding or knowing exactly how you feel; its this huge void engulfing you from inside out. These is exactly what I'm feeling right now. I am contented. I am but yet I can't deny that something is missing. Something so huge and important that when it left, I'm left with nothing but an empty soul. A soul who can still smile an empty smile.