Grandpa passed away yesterday. I've been mentally prepared, probably for years, yet the final moment of inevitable was still a bit too much to bear. When mom murmured "daddy" and stuff and the signal went out something exploded in my head or imploded maybe. For a while before redialing I was blank and sweating as if the fear came true in the worst way it can be. And then I realized that might be grandpa and it was. But someday, very likely someday the thing I fear the most would happen. And I could be on the other side of the phone, alone or with a stranger I then live my life with. And that would be truly mad. And it's neither me or mom or dad who breaks down, and I genuinly hope that one to be me. This time there had been no cue, except that I had this urge to call mom from early in the afternoon coz I was thinking of going jogging in the evening. And I've long been in this anxious mind of state to think it over and over to get prepared and everything ready from my hair to the outfit and contact lenses to start jogging. I've been preparing for weeks before this seems okay to start. And now I dont know when I really can. The beginning of the new semester signified nothing but more mental comflicts eating me up day by day. I grew really impatient or rather afraid whenever whoever ask me about what I wanna do a year later or what way to choose. Its so very tiring and frustrating to ponder over the bloody uncertainty of my future, given the reality that right here right now I'm already in a mess. As if nothing ever wakes me up since I've been back here. Everytime. Some of my senses would auotomatically shut up the moment I set my feet on the soil of beijing, and then I sleepwalk through several months of life before heading home and becoming alive again. But the dayz in Nanjing would just be wandering abouts and dreamlike pleasures which lead me nowhere. But again I dont really wanna go anywhere. If only I could be static while life passes me by. I'll make a wonderful observer I promise but just leave me alone. The other day I read sth on autism which said that the fear to fluorescent lamp and noise can be a symptom, probably linked to the so-called sensory overload. I know I dont really belong but still felt convinced and consoled, the way I sympathize with the brokenness and flawed beauty in people and things. I am dark enough to see their light. And screwed by those stronger than me. They are just so very tiring and dull. I admit this selfishness and self-consciousness from time to time.
I havent talked to Marianne for years, and rarely think of her. I was once overwhelmed by the similarity between the two of us but soon found out it was largely my imagination. And I regretted openning up too soon for telling her the expectation thing and the drinking-from-an-empty-cup blah which was totally over dramatic now it seems, I just really liked this expression and wanted to use it somewhere. I put it in two writings in a short period of time and what a shame someone found I doing so. I've got this remarkable memory about these littlest things that others probably gives no shit about. I pick them up and carry along to play with when I'm alone, or ashamed. They radiate this strange attraction always and I feel addicted. Other than the bits and pieces I dont really have gained anything throughout these years I guess. Still an idiot on relationships. Except in one or two cases I managed to maintain, generally I just mess up and give up. I'm a phenominal and very very dramatic quitter so to speak. I start almost every relationship with a plan to throw it away, and more oftenly I leave midway before its too late and it grew too strong. Or maybe its just those who I meet are not good enough. Intimacy is to me, scary and something to avoid. I despise those who disagree and are hurt by those who think alike. Mom doesnt regard any of my difficulties as real, saying that they are mere product of a too easy a life and lack of experience. I partly agree but am still convinced its my personality. The artistic type and stuff. But no improvement by the years. I'm neither more knowledgable nor wiser. Its just day after day wasted in self-pity and reassuring what has already been confirmed. This is no good, yet unstoppable. As if nothing would uproot me, purify me body and soul, and an after life maybe after nirvana. Not any book or any words or even grandpa's death. Sometimes a piece of melody or two lines from someone's lyrics but all so very ephemeral. I still have the AHDH thing which hampers me from reading anything longer than maybe 120 words. Anxiety has taken hold of me and I know I've tried to tell the same old stuff from maybe 3 years ago and still not over. Sometimes some others say it for me and the form is way better, almost amounting to art. I would shut up soon if I cant do even this better.
I do want to write something about grandpa. How he tenderly took care of me when I was young. But all these years its been this hospitalization thing that had worn everybody out. The last memory was then his bony hands and close-to-deaf ears. I feel sorry everytime I visited him. It's not that I'm heartless, it's just this great great feeling of helplessness. Mom would spent two hours everyday just to keep him company. Our visits mainly consisted of reading him newspaper and talking about our whereabouts. I told him too little about my college life, coz I dont like it and sure dont like talking about it. But I should have sensed earlier that he liked hearing about it. For compesation or some kind of unknown emotion I talked about a hell lot of my college the last time we met. Now its really the very last time. He was happy and he cried. From about three years ago he started to express his happiness with tears, he couldnt control and the expression of emotions just magically or naturally simplified itself. Sometimes he grew tired of talking and would lie there staring at the ceiling instead. But before we left he would insist on buying us the food in case we get hungry on the way, and said that he had been thinking really hard just now about how many eggs each of us should carry. We would play at it and kindly laugh at him being stupid again but I know mom and auntie dont feel well. Its been a tiring and scary journey from day one grandpa was in hospital. If its mom or dad I'm not even sure whether I could get through all these days. To be fair, its a peaceful death at a proper age relieving him from years of pain and the family the grave concern. But we would still cry however prepared we are. Mom sounds much better today on the phone. Dad's fine. He's been sacrificing too much I say. It's time we all get some peace. Although I dont know when can we really get over the grief. Speaking of grief, I am unable to tell how I am feeling. Coz I've been feeling fake about so many things for so long, I see me from every angle and Im just obsessed to watch whats happening to me. Nothing really makes much sense now and I'm getting stupid. All I have is the remote memory of grandpa feeding me with a spoon from a stainless steel cup, washing my face with his gentle palm from the warm shallow water, buying me the red mickey mouse swimming suit. Thats my knowledge about unconditional love long before I could name it. And he was an upright person, but its not the aspect from which I wanna remember him. I feel close to the personal trivial stuff, things only we know, coz you dont brag about those kind of things so its just the peaceful nice warm memory between the two of us, and his illness probably stole it from him long along, and now that he's gone for good I'll remember it alone. But I dont wanna be too dramatic about this coz its just so common a thing that probably most people just secretly share. But they are just too far away as if from the last life.
Grandpa, rest in peace. We'll meet again someday so dont worry, just enjoy the days. It has been a long,nice life. And from now on it'll be a long, nice dream with no pain and disturbance I promise. Come to me if you wish.
