Saturday, February 16, 2013

Tears from the Iron Man

It is a custom for us to go to Johor every Chinese New Year (CNY) for a once-a-year reunion with my husband's family: parents, sisters and other relatives. Though we go back to Johor few times a year, the CNY reunion  brings a much different value to the family. As my husband's sisters are married to other states, we can only come together once a year to celebrate this festive and it had always brought pleasant memories. 

This year, however, I had some misunderstanding with my eldest sis-in-law. Deep inside me, I kept telling myself that, "it's OK. She was just nervous and anxious about the whole issue". On the other hand, I had asked my husband to get into the room and started a tantrum. Sometimes, it's weird that I knew something was wrong yet I continued to indulge in it. And the more I fed my indulgence, I wanted more and ended up calling one after another bus station to check on tickets back to KL. All I wanted was to show my self-existence, my power and authority as a human in that house. 

Heart was pumping fast, nerves were wrecking, and patience towards the situation was running low, I wanted immediate revenge. Within minutes I was already packing my clothings and going to the store room to get my wet clothes after my mother-in-law (Mama) morning wash. Mama was there and asked about what I was doing. I told her I was going to leave that place and she came after me and told my father-in-law  (Papa) who was at the second living hall taking a nap. 

Out of my expectation, both the parents came into our room, Papa crying and pleading us not to leave. "Please don't do like that. I am so old already. I don't know how many more reunions of this kind I would be able to see." Seeing tears flowing from this Iron Man that I knew, my heart twisted and wrenched in pain. Papa was an ex-navy and to what I knew, we had few words through the years and to me, he was one man with heart of steel. His tears proved  me wrong! He is made of flesh and blood just like any one of us though he speaks less with me. By then, Mama had already started crying and asking us to stay. The family will not be complete if one of them is missing. 

I felt sorry for both of them. I was wrong. I apologised to Papa and he told me, "Whatever it is, please overlook it. Don't keep it in the heart." I nodded.

Although Papa and Mama have few words with me, I feel I am actually part of them as well. How could the crave of self-existence be looked upon higher than love? 

"Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail. Love is eternal."
(1 Corinthians 13: 4-8)

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