Between Life and Death

They say when we have once straddled between life and death, we will be enlightened.

A father of two sons. A husband to a wife who has done everything she could to hold her family in one, a task not many women can shoulder. A heavy smoker he is. A man who has once received 9 years of education, fully capable of reading and comprehending. An aging 51 year-old with high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol, you-name-it, with an ego so big that will just obliterate anything that has come as an obstacle. A self-employed technician who has a temper of a lightning, no matter who you are, one question that is being asked, all for the sake of the conversation and out of courtesy, if he thinks it is annoying or unnecessary will agitate him so much so as to send him through the roof and you will be humiliated.

A needle in his vein, liquid flowing into his blood capillaries to keep him hydrated. In extreme exhaustion, he lied on the hospital bed with Dengue fever languidly with no appetite. His son and wife had been there in the hospital for almost an entire day, he demonstrated no signs of appreciation for them being there for him. Angry comments were all they got from him that day and the days that followed. In dismal disappointment, his son left him, disgusted. The wife stayed, worried.

Several sleepless nights for the wife, she cooked soup and brought isotonic drinks and whatever she thought he might need for his stay in the hospital. Meanwhile, his son only had one wish. He wished that after all this that his father had gone through, he would be a better father, a better husband and a better man. His wish did not come true.

As soon as he stepped out from the hospital compound, he started making angry remarks for what others have done that is very disturbing to whoever were in the car on the way home with him that day.

For some, when they have once been put in an astride of life and death and survived, they would learn how everyday is gifted and be grateful for everything and everyone that is in his life. For him, he is alive because he is strong and because he has a manhood between his thighs.

However, a big man like him may seem dominant but when you get closer to him, take an in-depth look from head to toe, he is just a weak lonely soul who craves for love and care but too manly to show his desire for such girly things.

They said when we had once been straddled between life and death, we would be enlightened? Or is Dengue fever too petty an illness to be considered as one? Or does it take more than that? What is more?

Firework

It sounded like a war.

Driven by curiosity, as fast as we could, my brother and I ran to my aunt's room, climbed up the table, opened the windows, stuck our faces into what little gap there was. At the corner of my eyes, far away in distance, I saw colors as I was listening closely to the blatant and yet invigorating noise. With each chain of "Boom", there came a series of lights, flashing red, yellow, blue and green. 

A few minutes did it only last. We crawled back to the beds with our hearts contented. 

Year after year, we I would stay up late just to catch a glimpse of the tantalizing hope, faith, luck and love that were being radiated throughout the entire city. The aura just did not get to me. 

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Under my blanket, earphones on, listening to whatever bits and pieces of excitement that the radio DJ could offer. Although my presence could not be felt, I counted-down along with him, miles away from where he really is. Almost immediately, the war started. 

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Stuck in a traffic jam, after movie, in a car with my aunt and her ex-boyfriend. I glued my face onto the car windscreen, gazing straight up to the sky, where the fireworks were just above us. Up close, I felt connected to every blast. I was amazed by every blast. 

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A hand with a glass of beer, ice clinking onto one another, wearing a disgusting green party mask, a party whistle held between my lips. Counted-down with my cousins that I could not relate to back then. As soon as the clock struck 12, we hugged, wished one another whatever we could find in our minds and embraced one another's presence, even to strangers who were drunk, as fireworks were dancing glamorously in the sky above us. There was a hunky Indian. 

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Lying on the sofa, cellphone in my hand, curled up like a shrimp. A wish from someone special was what I was waiting for. Foolish. I stared at the celebrities in the television blindly as a war was going on out there, somewhere. 

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Locked myself in a room, munching on pineapple biscuits, typing, posting the first post on a new blog, hoping that I would always come back to it. I am not even bothered to make new year resolutions because deep in my heart, I know that I do not have the will and perseverance to accomplish them. Nonsense is what they would end up being. 

The dissonance lasted for 4 minutes, probably the longest 4 minutes that I have ever experienced. I feel like I am being vexed and emotionally assailed by the unpleasant noise, reverberating in my ears. It has done nothing but triggered a wave of worries, anxiety, consternation and loneliness that I thought I had concealed in my dark deep chambers. 

It sounds like a war.