An Analysis of the story of Cinderella

I just finished watching a Korean drama: Full House. It has been quite some time since I watch such drama. This lovey-dovey drama just don't fit into life and watching them made me devastated on how cruel life could be!

Ha! Anyway, I like the actor, Rain so much after watching the drama. And I soon realised that the story of Cinderella could only work for people who are willing to spend.

1) Opportunity - if there is no such party, Cinderella would not be able to show up to the prince.
2) Spend - if Cinderella did not spend time and effort to dress up, the prince would not have noticed her.

Life is mean. Usually, the rich will get the rich and the poor will get the poor. It's all in the Chinese proverb: A bamboo door should be paired with another bamboo door while a wooden door to be paired with another wooden door.

Just like in the story Full House, if the main character did not get a first class flight, she would not have bumped into the actor and got to know him and further the relationship. It all has to start somewhere...somewhere where the rich go, spend their time...One will not be able to get to know the rich unless he/she lives like one.

Cruel reality!

8 & 9th week treasure

I cried when the food just don't digest.
I cried when I feel lonely.
I cried so often I don't know why I cried.

A church member called and told me that my emotion affects the baby deeply. So, to have a happy child, the mother should be laughing all the time rather than crying.

Hmm...the moment I've been waiting for...to see the doctor!

When I see my baby through the ultrasound, I felt comforted. My baby's head, tummy and legs. And the heart beats like a star, twinkling away.

How happy it is to be able to be a mother!

7th Week Treasure

My morning sickness did not get any better. I could not eat well and it's either I vomit after I eat or I feel dizzy. I can't go to work nor stand up straight. I felt a huge discomfort in my tummy.

My worry is with me each time I go to toilet. When I see the sign of blood, my heart would go worry, worry, worry...

I talked to my baby. I want her/him to be strong. We're going for a battle...and I know it's not only me and my baby. But God will be with me.

God always has the best plan.

6th Week Treasure

I did not know what was wrong with me because my gastric just would not heal. My mom suspected that I might be pregnant. I brushed it off the very first time she told me. But when I kept vomiting and I don't seem to get any better, I seek the doctor for vaccination.

The doctor also suspected that I was pregnant. I said it's quite impossible as I took Provera medication which was going to make me bleed. How could I be pregnant then? But the truth proved I was wrong.

I AM PREGNANT!

It was an utmost joy though I was too weak to receive the trophy. Nevertheless, the fear from my first miscarriage haunt me for days to come...

I prayed and I knew this pregnancy was gifted by God. I suddenly remembered that last year while I was fasting and praying, I came across a verse in the Bible which says, "Ask and you'll be given." So, I asked boldly for Jesus to give me a child. And there was a *TINK* feeling in me. I had the instinct that God will eventually give me a child by the coming year. And BINGO, I'm pregnant.

I went for ultrasound check and...my heart leaped with joy. I saw the embryo, small as it was, and enlarged in the screen, I saw it twinkle like a star. The doctor said that's the heartbeats.

How miraculous and beautiful...the work of life! Only God knows how to implant such technical and systematic little thing into the tummy of a mom-to-be.

Food Poisoning

For the last one week, I was extremely sick.

Just after my presentation, my husband brought me to visit his sister and nephew. We went for movie and a great Japanese dinner.

A day after the food, I fell ill. My stomach was bloated and I vomited. Lying on the bed most of the time, I cried tears of silent. My husband tried rubbing my tummy with oil. But nothing helps. I visited Chinese sinseh but the medicine just wouldn't work!

The feeling of horror struck me. I thought of how dad suffered alone. Yes. No one would understand the pain of the sick unless we experience it ourselves. My tears flowed freely whenever I thought of how painful my tummy was.

My family blamed it on the raw salmon I ate in the Japanese restaurant.

"How many times must I tell you not to eat raw food?" Mom grumbled and walked away angrily.

My husband looked on.

I just had to endure...

Close yet apart

I thanked my old friend, GCL for dropping by to read my boring blog. I suppose nobody would read the blog of another unless it is of someone famous or glamourous. My sincere thanks to him for being so graceful in spending time to cheer this friend.

Just like him, I felt that the technology is growing real fast and we're like lacking behind, not knowing very much on how to function it. Just like when I've got invitations to join Friendster, it took me some months before I agreed to join and learned how to operate it. Finally, when I thought I've knew almost all the forms and functions of it, I got a new invitation to join Facebook. It's like a never ending technology meant to "draw people closer".

Yupe! Thanks to Facebook, I get to know how many of my old OLD friends were doing. Those friends of 20 years!

At the first few chats, it was always what we are doing and how life has been. Then, came the monotonous life and the relationship ended abruptly just like what happened 20 years ago. Does that mean a broken friendship should be left just like? Should it be left untouched?

I don't know. I tried sending sms to my old friends asking them what they were doing and should they have any outing, they can give me a call. But none call up. Hmmm...in their mind, they're doing what is right - they leave me to my husband. Yes, I've a husband. But that does not mean I'll leave all my friends.

Now, I'm not the one leaving them... but they are!

FRIENDS

We are so close, seeing each other through Facebook and Friendsters so often yet so far apart!

The Presentation

The day that I had waited eagerly came and gone.

That morning was a tensed one. I arrived in uni and in front of the presentation room at 10am, an hour and 20 minutes earlier before the given time for my presentation. My friends were all appointed an earlier slot than I. I was the last among them. HUH!

I waited and waited. Candidates spent more time than expected in the room. 10 mins, 20 mins, 30 mins..time ran slowly. I wished I was the first. Nevertheless, the arrangement was good.

When it was my turn, it was already 12.30pm, one hour later than the given appointment. I could sense the tiredness in the panels' eyes. Nevertheless, they tried to pose some questions. I didn't really answer all the questions because my supervisor was there to help and assist. Though I did a few mistakes in my analysis, I felt good that the presentation ended in a good way with praises from my supervisor and the others.

I'm relief.

But the second round has yet begun...

Point to Ponder

Human defence themselves when they sense danger is lurking around. So, they'll think of all sorts of opportunity to hit or attack the danger before the danger attacks them. So, naturally, one who gets angry will OFTEN BLAME others for making them angry. Most often than not, we'll say, "You're the one who makes me angry. If it were not you, I'd be in a good mood today...etc.."

Jesus did not retaliate or try to protect Himself against the accuses. Neither did He curse the people nor kept a vengeance against them. Why should I?
In fact, even in his last breath, He pleaded with the Father to forgive the people who had sinned against Him for "they did not know what they were doing".

I told my mom that I'll feel guilty after I scolded someone, whether or not that person did the wrong thing. I mean, whether I'm at the right end, I should not be scolding people at all! At the end of the day, I'll pray for God's forgiveness.

If only I have a bigger heart to forgive that person, I won't get angry.
If only I don't think highly of myself being superior to that person, I won't condemn the job s/he has done.
Those are the truth I believe and hope to be done.

Quote to ponder:
If you want to be angry, be responsible for your anger.
Blame no one for making you angry because no one can get to your nerves unless you let them to.

A Huge Comfort

Yesterday, I stayed at home the whole day, not knowing what I should be doing. I was moody and due to the PMS and the medication I'm taking, I felt even worse.

Nevertheless, after attending the prayer meeting, I felt recharged.

The sharing was extremely good and it opened my eyes to understanding Bible to a deeper level. I've always read Bible on the surface level, thus not able to dig deep into the meaning of each and every word of God. Through the explanation from the speaker, I felt my conscious was knocking at the door again.

"Good and faithful."
Good - kind, tender, loving, understanding, honest, hardworking, whatever that should be of good nature.
Faithful - loyal

The prayers also helped me to understand that the difficulty I was facing was just a drop of water in the ocean. It really does not matter that much...It mattered because I took a magnifying glass to look at it. It was like looking at an ant with a magnifying glass, forgetting the rest of the things around it. But when I heard news of wars, politics, the underprivileged and the sick, I felt I was so much luckier. Whatever challenges that I've to face, I still have choices to choose from. I don't have to bump my head against the wall or cried my eyes out just because a teacher scolded me in the public!

I've to admit that the incident scared me and brought back deep painful memories of my dad, holding the dictatorship of punishing people the way he liked. I cried tears of fear. But I felt relieved that God will always be here to hold my hands and lead me back home, to the one I loved. It does not matter how much people hurt me because God has it all. He is righteous and He's seeing this from Heaven. Do I need to explain more?

He knows what I needed most and how painful I was and He always knows how to bring back His child's confidence.

Thank you, Jesus Christ.

Status Consciousness

Last few weeks, when I was in the varsity, I had a terrible stomachache. As the ground floor's toilet was full, I went up to the first floor only to find that the toilet's door was broken. So, I went up to the second floor. I found a good place to do my "business". While I was washing my hands, a lecturer came in. She looked at me despicably.

"Are you a student?" she asked.
"Yes," I answered as I took my tumbler and put the sling on my shoulder.
"You're not supposed to use this toilet," she said.
"But the toilet downstairs are full," I answered softly.
"Full?" She asked unbelievingly and continued, "Don't use this toilet the next time."
I nodded, embarrassed for being reprimanded and walked away.

It was after all, a TOILET!

To me, a toilet is a toilet. It's for people to wee or pass motion. But to the lecturer, it's THE LECTURERS' TOILET and could ONLY be used by lecturers. That's the difference.

I learned that when you've reached a certain status in the society, you'll want people to think and speak to you differently. Don't say, "Nah...it's only for the ignorant." It's not. When you're an Executive, you'd want your clerk to obey your command and when you're a Manager, you'd want your Executive, clerks, typist, secretary, etc. to obey your command and be at your mercy at all time.

This is our culture. The culture of third-class mentality. There would not be equality. Even a toilet is differentiated between those for the lecturers and those for the students. There's absolutely no FRIENDSHIP between a lecturer and a student. It's all a matter of teaching and learning.

It's a sad case to find. I always wanted my students to treat me like their friends. I don't mind to listen to their problems or ask them come to my house or make jokes with them as long as they're learning.

Maybe I don't feel the gap because I'm just a normal teacher, a lowly teacher without any high qualification (only degree, ok?). My mom said that if I managed to get to the doctorate level, I would think differently. I would want my students to respect and READ my work and write them in their own work. So, if you've finished a doctorate, you'll want people to greet you as Doctor. No more Mr / Ms /Madam. You'll want be glamourous. That's status and that's what makes the society today! Going after something. The more the better. The more the merrier.

I could only pray to God that He humbles me and let me always think of the underprivileged. May His wisdom come upon me and the Holy Spirit lives in me so that I will not for ONE DAY think I'm any superior than the rest of His creation...because I'm only a human, who will waste away and die like any others. I want people to remember me as someone loving, kind and tender rather than a grumpy lady that no one likes. When you leave, history remains...

The deja vu fear

Today I went through a shocking fear after meeting with NST.

Like usual, she threw her tantrum in front of me and my other friends. I felt like crying but I kept bitting my lips. She was at the shouting level and I could feel, if I'm a seven-year-old kid, she would want to twist my ear and pinch my arm. I dared not even look at her. She flared up and all I could see through the corner of my eyes were she kept finger-pointing at me and shouting at how ungrateful I was. I tried to explain but she shouted even louder. All I could do was head down and swallow my tears.

When I got into my car, I started crying. I cried so badly, I thanked God that the flood of tears did not make me bump into cars. I wished to hold Jesus near, close by because I knew it so much that only Him, only God is loving, kind, tender and forgiving. He will not pick on small mistakes nor hurting someone to the point of wanting that person to lie death in front of Him. I wanted Jesus. I knew only He could heal me.

I cried and cried till my heart, my throat and my lung hurt. I did not know what I could do to stop the pain in me. It's the deja vu fear.

My dad was an aggressive man. He scolded and beat my brother and I. I was lucky to be beaten the least. Nevertheless, when dad scolded someone, that person had to look down, feel sorry and not give any reply. Otherwise, a further punishment would be placed on that person. I felt that NST was all the same like my dad when she started scolding. And just like my dad, she would be asking questions and hoping that I won't be replying. How the same! I'd lived with my aggressive dad for the past 27 years, under his iron-fist and now...

I don't understand at all. But through this experience, I learned 3 things:
1) God is loving, tender, forgiving and understanding
2) No one is perfect
3) I've to look at things the positive way. eg. NST scolded rightly. I'll take the initiative to work harder RATHER THAN saying she condemns me and I'll be dead meat before I knew it.

Now, my heartache does not stop there. My friends think I deserved to be scolded and reprimanded. As such, I didn't get any consolation nor comforting words from them. That's LIFE!

The Cooking Life of a Wife

I tried to make it a habit to cook since I came back from Bukit Tinggi last Monday. There, I learned some cooking techniques and health info from my church members and I vowed to cook everyday (Monday to Friday).

Today, after I handed in my research proposal, I stayed in the library for another three hours before driving back to prepare my cooking. It is fun cooking. I like experimenting with stir-frying technique though my mom disliked it so much. She said it'll make the whole house oily, smelly and dirty. After each stir-frying job, there would be a thorough cleaning. So, mom said, STEAMING is good enough.

I do get bored with steaming all the time. So, I tried stir-frying some vegetables today. When the wok was red, I poured in some oil. Then, the oil started to boil and I could see smoke coming up from the wok. I quickly poured in some garlic only to find that the garlic got burnt just a moment after I poured them in. Alas! I'd to throw all the garlic, wash the wok and start all over again. But it was fun. I felt happy being able to cook, especially for my mom and hubby to consume.

When I finally sat down and wanted to take some rest, I requested the newspaper from my hubby. He was reluctant to give it to me and said that he wanted to read it when he was actually watching TV program then. I was so frustrated. That's why I ended up switching on my computer and typing this away. I felt that my hard work gone unappreciated. He would never know.

"It's just another dinner," he might think. But the time spent on it gone unnoticed.

This is reality...the ugly truth of marriage life...and cooking life of a wife!

Pessimistic Life

To what can I compare my disappointment? I don't know.

Today while I sat with three girls at a foyer, I heard their conversation. I was trying to concentrate in my book but these girls talked so loudly that I could hardly get a word into my head.

I got to know that these girls are committee members from societies in the varsity and hold high positions. They are glamourous, beautiful, smart and active in their extra curricular activities. They even planned to go to Japan for the coming holiday!

I bit my lips listening to their conversation. I felt disappointment creeping through me. I didn't join any extra curricular activities during my varsity years. I didn't try to enjoy every moment as an undergraduate then. I was just rushing through time and wished I could finish as soon as possible. Nothing in the varsity that happened worth me remembering.

These girls had "great fathers". Their fathers are either politicians or businessmen. That's what makes them what they are. I don't blame my parents for what I am now. It's just that I was born a pessimistic and would not see things the bright side. I felt like I'm doomed to be called a LOSER! I don't dare to work for what I want. I don't dare to even ASK for what I want. It's all too late.

I missed my youth, my varsity, my first job, my dreams... If only I'm an optimistic, I would be somewhere else...SOMEONE else by now but I'm not.

I'm still here, slumped into my comfort zone, afraid to go get what I wanted.

Blessing in disguise

Last Friday while I was driving back from my varsity, I heard a very loud crashing sound. It scared me and I slowed from 60kmph to 30kmph. The car behind me sounded its honk but how could the driver be so inconsiderate. I won't be slowing down when I was well.

I was flabbergasted and did not know what to do except kept going. My windscreen had burst and pieces of it kept dropping onto my dashboard and onto my shirt and pants. At that very moment, my husband called me. As I pressed on my hands free kit, I kept mumbling and couldn't figure out how to say it. I was just too stunned. but when I managed to say it, I cried. My husband said calmly through the phone to ask me calm down and drive slowly.

When I reached home, my husband drove his car while I drove mine to the car workshop. All went well.

I felt blessed. I'm blessed because the pieces from the broken windscreen did not cut my eyes or hurt my vision or any part of my body.

I'm blessed.

What makes a good teacher?

I have gone through quite some stressful time with my lecturer due to my poor English. During the first review of my research proposal, she commented harshly on my proposal in front of my other coursemates. I was dumbfounded and deeply wounded. The only word I could recall was, "Grave". She kept mentioning my English was "grave", "so grave" and it seemed like there was a language barrier between herself and I. After that appointment, I went back and cried all out...All these while, I've been trying to improve my English by reading grammar books and novels. But it was just not enough. She said I've not been trying hard enough. What is "hard" then? Her level of commitment in academic would definitely be different from mine. She was not supposed to put the requirements of a PhD to the Masters students!

I was a primary school teacher for 2 years in 2005. And it never occur to me to call any of my students "stupid" or "you're so bad, bad in English." I knew how hurt it was. Whenever my students said they can't go further, I'll tell them to try harder. I'll guide them. I sacrificed my rest time during recess just to be with them and make them finish their homework or teach them reading. I felt contented when they could read and write. Aren't concern, love and patience the criteria to be a teacher?

I found that my lecturer only knew how to criticise and condemn and would never know how to encourage and love her students. If only she would tell me earlier that she could not stand my English, I would have gone for another lecturer, a lecturer who sees her students as the PEOPLE who have the same opportunity to express their feelings in English though they are not the native speakers!

Baby Craze

I have been going through tormenting years, desperate to have a baby after my miscarriage in mid 2007. I kept indulging myself in self-pity and kept asking "WHY" I can't have a baby just like any others.

I saw a friend of my husband, M, recently with a little girl, aged three. I was sure enough that she adopted the girl as her daughter. My husband heard the lil girl called M "mommy". That didn't help my depression. In fact, I was even more depressed. I knew there are options around (invitro, chinese medication, acupuncture, adoptions) to have a child but I was too stressed to make any moves.

Recently, we went to visit our friends during the CNY and found that she was four months pregnant. She had the same problem as I, polycystic ovaries or something like that but she managed to conceive! She introduced me to her doctor.

Today, I walked in the clinic with my husband. I was filled with anxiety as I wanted to know what was wrong with me and prayed that the doctor has the wisdom and intelligence to give me the best prescription. But due to the popularity of the doctor, we sat there waiting hour after hour. By the third hour, my husband had lost his patience and talked to the nurse.

"How long more to wait? Each time when a new patient comes in, it's their turn first. Then, it'll take forever until we can get the opportunity to see the doctor," Husband said.
"It's because they've made appointment. There are 2 more patients before your wife's turn," the nurse replied.

I waited eagerly and soon it was my turn. The doctor asked many questions to understand my health history, including those of my family members. He told me that he's no magician but he'll try his best to prescribe the right medication to help me conceive. I was elated. Nothing in the world could replace the heart that leaps at the sight of one's own flesh and blood!

All this while, I've been going through roller coaster, my emotion was unstable and I cried at nights while praying, asking God to provide me children. It was so depressing.

I'm happy today. I should be. I saw hope with this new doctor. I've tried countless doctors to cure my irregular menstrual as well as my liver problem. After all these trials and errors, I felt I'm just like one of the doctors guinea pigs!

In this happy moment, my husband threw tantrum and temper at me. I knew he didn't have his lunch. We were late for lunch. It's way past lunch time but didn't he feel the same like I do? Didn't he understand how much I wanted a baby and that I'm seeing hope? No. He didn't. The hope to have a baby is what I had in mind which he didn't have. It's something to do with me and not him. I was thinking, he might be asking himself, "What have I got to do with whether you have a baby or not?"

Night Owl

It has been torturing for the past days when I was awaken in the middle of the night due to the heat. Whenever I was awaken, I would have to drink at least a glass of water and turn the fan to higher speed before I could fall asleep again. It would take approximately half an hour to one hour before I could sleep again.

This day, I knew that a good night sleep would be somewhere far from me and have decided to approach my PC for some relaxing moment.

The refreshing cool breeze at 4am is quite a relief. Sitting in front of the PC at 4am was something I did when I was a teen but not anymore ever since I entered varsity. I never like late nights though my friends would think that one who never have had late nights would not have enjoyed singlehood to the most. But after all the long and winding road through the late nights with my PC on ICQ & IRC, I knew that it holds no value in life.

Late night, as it is, does not hold any value nor add any to life. It will just drain away the energy in the body and make one feel exhausted the next day.

Hmm...I think my eyes are tired enough for a good morning nap now...ZzzZZzzz....

Dad's Legacy

I could still remember when I was asked to write about an idol in my life in my form 2 or 3 assignment. Most of the friends wrote about their father. But I chose to differ. I could think of nothing to write about my dad. We lived in a house but he was like a distant away from me. He was always early to work and came home late in the night, when all of us had gone to sleep. I ended up writing about a neighbour with a title of PJK.

Time had definitely changed things tremendously. Dad had changed too and his changes had clearly influenced me. We were more like best buddy when I was studying in University. Maybe it was that time that we missed each other so much that we knew the value of a father-daughter relationship.

Dad had been encouraging during my uni years, unlike my school days where he demanded results rather than attending to how I felt. But it was a blessing that Dad consoled me and told me through the phone when I was far away in the university, “Just do your best. Don’t over stressed.” Those words made me to have the courage to go on.

After my graduation, Dad was the one taking me for interviews. I was not familiar, or should I say, I don’t drive well though I have a license then. So, Dad had to chauffeur me to wherever I was appointed for interviews. Every time before I apply for a job, I would ask him where was this place or where was that place to make sure it is somewhere near my house.

Walking down the aisle was the most beautiful moment of a lady, I could say. Having my dad, walking beside me from the entrance of the church to the stage of the hall, was a blessing. We walked arm in arm, smiling when the church organ sounded and people on both sides, clapping and cheering. It was at this tremendous happy moment that tears filled my dad’s eyes. He was going to hand in his daughter to another man. He thought I was going to leave him alone. But not that easy! It was yet another blessing that I was able to live with my parents after marriage. Dad was delighted that I could be his pampered daughter again. We could chat till midnight, recounting both our experiences.

Dad had always been there.

It was end of year 2006 that Dad found himself to diagnose with tuberculosis. He had three months of medication and diet food and we were waiting eagerly to see him recover. After the three months, he was confirmed to have fully recovered from the disease. We were cheering about that but joy was short live. After only a month, doctor said that he might have some problem with the liver.

One evening, in March 2007, I got home and found Dad lying on the bed. He was staring blankly at the ceiling when I greeted him. He looked at me and blurted, “Doctor said it might be cancer.” Tears started to fill both of our eyes. Dad started crying while I denied the truth and comforted him by saying, “Don’t worry. There is no confirmation yet.”

I could not be too emotional. I had to be strong. I was pregnant! I had to keep the foetus healthy.

Things turned out to be ugly. I had a miscarriage while Dad was diagnosed with liver cancer third stage. His tumour was approximately 10cm. It was too traumatic for me to lose my baby and at the same time, seeing a close parent leaving me. Dad was sad too. It was the second time in my life that I had him cried for me. He cried because he knew how sad I was to lose a baby. He cried because he knew he would not be able to see his grandchild.

The public hospital waiting period was so long that by the time we found a doctor that promised a medication, the tumour had grown as big as 12cm and it was the final stage. Nevertheless, we still did not lose hope. “Cancer is curable,” I kept telling Dad. There were many testimonials in the newspaper that they had been cured from cancer.

Dad found comfort in Christ then. We went to church together. He told me that he liked to listen to the hymns. Hymns soothed him down. He had many church members visiting him and giving him comfort. He saw hope.

It had been a few months and when everyone thought that the medication might be working, we were failed by our assumptions. In October 2007, after my class, I called mom, only to find that dad was hospitalised due to diarrhoea. I visited Dad that evening. Doctor said Dad could be dehydrated and he could recover soon enough. One day, two days, three days… Dad was talking and joking like usual. He looked fine. But doctor said Dad had not recovered fully and need constant checking.

It was Saturday’s morning and I was rushing through my assignment when mom called me. She asked when I would be visiting Dad that day. I could not confirm. “Maybe after lunch. I need to finish this assignment.” Mom hung up the phone. Minutes later, my brother called and asked again when I would be visiting Dad.

“Dad’s been vomiting blood since 7am this morning,” brother said.

“I’ll leave the house now,” I said.

I hung up the phone. My hands were trembling and tears started to stream down my face. I called church and asked pastor to pray for Dad. Then, I quickly drove to the hospital. When I entered dad’s ward, I found him sitting on the armchair, flung by brother on one side and mom on the other. I greeted Dad and he nodded his head and all of a sudden, we heard burping sound and blood poured out from his mouth. Brother wiped it off. Dad vomited continuously and we knew that time was ticking away. Doctor said there was no way to stop the vomiting. Dad’s siblings arrived to give their support. Reverend and Pastor arrived to give their prayers and to baptise dad. We sang the hymn “Amazing Grace”. It struck me that it was all in the plan. It was the hymn that dad, mom and I sung for the two consequent Sundays in church before dad was admitted in the hospital. Everything seemed to be like a coincident. Dad liked that song. I liked that song. It was a comfort for dad to listen to that song again.

Doctor finally came in. He asked my mom, brother and I to go out to have a talk. All I could hear was, “He might not be able to last more than 24 hours.” Mom and I burst crying and doctor asked us to be calm to let him finish. He suggested that we give Dad a dose of morphine and let him sleep away. That was the last thing we could do to make him comfortable or else, the doctor predicted that Dad might be choked and drowned by his own blood in the lung.

When we went into the ward, dad was still vomiting blood. It was a difficult decision for us to make because we did not want to lose him just like that but we also did not want to see him suffering so much of pain. We wanted so much to talk to him. There was still much to say. There was still much to share. But we did not want to see dad suffering in such a way. Mom asked dad whether he wanted a dose of medication for him to sleep. Dad shook his head. He could not talk. He could only shake his limbs. We understood him. We asked him thrice and he rejected us thrice. He wanted to go on. He had the courage to go on. We trusted him. He stopped vomiting. When asked whether he would like Bible read to him, he nodded. I read the Bible to him. He was lying on the bed, relaxing himself as much as he could. It was a good sign. He had his eyes closed. He might have fallen asleep from the tiredness of vomiting. We thought that things had turned out to be fine once again. But it had not!

Mom cried at once when she noticed that dad’s blood pressure was dropping tremendously all of a sudden in the midnight. We called doctor and dad’s siblings immediately. We wanted everyone to be around. We kept calling dad.

“Wake up, dad,” we called.

Dad’s blood pressure went up again. He was listening to us. He was. Brother sat on the right and me on the left of dad. We whispered into Dad’s ears telling him to let go if it was too much for him to bear but if he wanted to strive on, we’ll always be there with him. His blood pressure went up again. I knew it. Dad wanted to strive on. He would not let go so easily. He wanted us to know the message. I hummed the hymn Amazing Grace into his ears. Gradually, we found that his oxygen level and blood pressure were running low. I said, “Dad, are you seeing Jesus? Do you see bright light? Follow Him. Follow the bright light.”

The machine stopped functioning. All of us cried and called Dad. Doctor came in and asked the nurse to use another machine, which was more accurate. It read Dad’s heartbeat. Dad’s heartbeat was very weak. But we saw there was hope. We went on. My brother and I continued to hum the hymn. Dad would be ok, we hoped. But after an hour or two, dad’s heartbeat turned into an almost straight line. We informed the doctor and she came to certify that dad had left us. To hear the words, “He has gone,” was such a heart-breaking news. Those three words had left us mourning for the lost.

Dad had left me. I had lost my compass. He had been my chauffeur. He had been my listener, my counsellor, my advisor and most of all, my dear dad, who took pride in whatever I do. I was left with 2 assignments and presentations and 4 examinations to go. The assignments and presentations were 2 weeks away while the examinations a month away. I wanted to give up. I told my brother I just could not go on. I called my lecturer. I wanted to drop the course. I could not concentrate. But God, in some way, had sent dad’s message once again. “Remember how dad fought till the end.” All of a sudden, I remembered dad’s motto, “Tolerate and have patience with whatever you do. Fight till the end.”

His last breath would not leave me just like that. It should have a great impact on me. I prayed that I could concentrate. So, I did. I did not drop the course. I moved on. I did my presentations, handed in my assignments and took the exams. I finished off my first semester with pride. Yes, dad, I’ll make you proud.

Though Dad had left me, his spirit of “never quitting till the last breath” would be here with me. He had been the wall I always leaned against all the while but now, I have to lean on his words.

2007 had been a traumatic year for me as I lost two of my precious belongings, Dad and my would-be baby. Life still goes on whether we want the day to come or not. Sun still rises and sets.

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost,

But now am found,

Was blind but now I see.

T’was grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears relieved;

How precious did that grace appear,

The hour I first believed.

A Message of Perseverance

“You eat here everyday?”

That was the first sentence uttered from a lady I met today while I was having lunch alone. We were sharing the same table as there was no other tables available. She then started to ask about the “chee cheong fun” stall at the corner and so forth.

“How old are you?” she asked. “28.”

“So, you are born in year 1980?” “Yes.”

“Which month?” “May.”

“Which day?” “21.”

“I’m on the 1st. the rest is the same, May, 1980.”

It was such a coincidence - and the most interesting part is yet to come.

She told me of her career history from being a chemist to being an insurance sales executive. When she decided to change from her stable lab job to being a sales agent, her parents got very angry about it and she was under so much of stress that she moved out. Then, without a car, she had to take buses around KL area to try door sales. And without any results even after 8 months of being a full timer, she still did not give up.

Her eyes twinkled as she talked. I saw a great lady right in front of me. Perseverance is one of the ingredients to SUCCESS and the main one. If she had quitted when her parents objected, she would not have seen the results today. If she had quitted when there was no sales closed, she would not be sharing her experiences proudly to me. If she had quitted when she had to travel by buses EVERYDAY from Serdang to Puchong, Cheras, Setapak, etc., she would not be so content of her achievement today.

A success story starts somewhere - when you least expect it, when things “seem” to be going the wrong way, when you’re exhausted yet continue going, when you BELIEVE in it!

Millionaire - Part 2

When my bro and I were little, we would dream of being a millionaire, billionaire, zillionaire, etc. Then dad would snap, “Yea, right. You don’t have to wait. You’re already having million Hairs!”

When I was in early teens, dad bought many cheap-plak T-shirts with all sorts of brands. I was living in the naïve world of my own, not knowing what those brands about, just understood that those brands meant good. Silly! This continued until bro entered college. Then, he brought in the idea of BRANDS into the family. He refused wearing fake things dad bought. He taught me what a real brand is – Levis, Guess, Timberland, Nike, etc. To me - Shirt is shirt. Pants are pants. They are garments to cover private parts.

I remembered the joke my uncle once told me. He said that when he was still a “YB”, whatever he wore or used were thought to be REAL. Once he used an imitation pen to sign a document, the friend beside him said, “YB, nice pen! It must be very expensive.” My uncle smiled and quickly kept the pen away.

It’s all in the mind. When you’re “someone”, people will look up to you and beg at your feet.

I once read a proverb which sounds like this: “I lament for not having shoes until I saw a man without feet!”

It’s all in the mind. Millionaire is just another human – made of flesh and blood, nothing different from the rest of us. But the only difference is that they are RICH, damn RICH. The richness that could not bring any happiness…