Sacrifice

Are there anything else more pronounced and important as the word "Sacrifice"? Why do we make sacrifices? What is sacrifice? Why make it the most oft-used word on earth? Why not "regrets", give-and-take, or other more plebian words come out of our mouth? Is sacrifice that important? Why does it lead us to make the unexpected happen, the expected to be wiped away like sweat and the ominous to assume form? It is that surly sense of trying to outdo the impossible with tarradiddles and a false sense of insecurity that enables us to foremost use sacrifice as a form of give-and-take. Sacrifices makes us feel important.

"Oh, let me be the one to take the rap" "Gimme some credo, I'll do your shit" "I want nothing from you, I just wanna do something for you"

Sounds familiar? I can gauge that, on a scale of one to five, I say you are a lousy, fucking piece of shitass tramp. Happiness seems to always get in the way of sacrifice eh? "Oh, my happiness meant nothing more than your satisfaction" Total bollocks. Stop betraying yourself, look yourself in the mirror and say that your lies are ludicriously some sort of God-given truths!

I used to be the sort who thinks that life is all about sacrifices. Everything I do, I do it for my loved ones, without much care of a form of repayment or consequences. I might have appeared selfish, but trust me, I do contemplate all possibilities though it does appear to be in my favour. I guess most situations tend to bring me into the light as a villain. My dreams seem stupid, if not, incredulous, to those who are my blood kin. They persuade me to give it up, so I did. I thought I should continue with the business of pleasing everyone in my spectrum, including total strangers. But now it seems, all the delusions shall be vanquished. I should not be living in sacrifice, a life of sacrifices isn't worth it. If I die a sad man, I won't. I will live up to my name, of being adventurous and tongue-in-cheek. I can soar above the skies without the help of those detractors. I can do without sacrifices!! I shall live like a gypsy! Seek freedom, breathe freedom, relinquish a world of biding.

More importantly, be my own Autodiktat.

Meow I

It has been almost a week since her passing. The withering plants and hibernating bears seems to have gained a new light as the plants began to produce little studs of what seems like leaves while the bears awake from their deep slumber. A new beginning has come. The Dad went from wallowing in self-pity to drowning sorrow in red poison. I still can't think of a better word than this: self destruction. Maybe self-destruction would suffice into transformation, and from there, like the almost awaken bear, a new cycle of stuffing berries and fish into your mouth for added warmth and pounds to ward off danger. The bears think about it's previous endeavors like its adventure through rough terrains and naked lakes to search for food. Juxtapose against this is the yearning for Her, as the Dad and probably the whole kindred recounts the blissful serenade of Her voice. The motherly care and love couldn't be more evident as every Christmas was a surprise; a party.

Everytime Her presence calls for a wide variety of socialising, food, dance and obvious merry-making. I couldn't have been here without her help, ipso facto. The beau ideal She advocate is a world of peace and harmony; of course, with as much hardwork as possible, one could soar above the endless sky and the ski across the eternal abyss of the vast ocean. One could not help but feel extremely at home with her. She is the Perfect Mother, a Mother Goddess now dare I say. Her then flowy hair and silky skin could pass of as a maiden, though the slight wrinkled hands She possess was due to the countless working hours in the office. She is the epitome of greatness, of balance and of capability. She inspired me with Her patience, Her prudence and her undying determination to pursue material nirvana for us. We could have easily be sleeping on the streets if not for her articulate attempts at ameliorating our lifestyles. The Dad could not have more agreed that with her calibre, the company would not have become what it now is: a stately and thriving business. The pain-staking hours she took to nurture us and at the same time work with conviction could no longer be retrieved. She has done her part and could now be assured of the future as we take over. Well, the Trinity, not more not less because I could not see myself in it. You can't call it THE Quartet can you?

(To be continued due to time constraint)

Do you feel that a lifetime of regrets would change things, or do you feel that a certain sense of sentimentality instead of pathos should coincide with your guilt and longing for a certain someone, be it a loved one or a total stranger? How do you feel if one day, that certain someone just disappears out of your life, with just nothing but memories to hold on to. Pictures disintegrate, yellowed and suspiciously looking downright silverfish bitten. Material possessions like handbags, clothes and perfumes started going missing, as if that someone had taken it back with them. Would people in their right mind start emulating the familiarity and intimacy established throughout their lives in their sleep?

We do not need a crash course to realise that such ideas are banal to our sense of well-being. Death is a realisation of truths, a transformation of the person and the people affected by his/her death. Nothing is impervious to aging, illness and finally, death. Why delve in memories and pathos when a future without the loved one meant a new beginning? Our constant attachment to a lost reality would only stifle growth and sanity. Sanity is a state of being and we can't just let it go just because of setbacks and tragedies. I want to learn to accept the process of death but how many could? When you helplessly look on as the gradual wane of the loved one's physical and mental state, it just became a vicious cycle until the day when the person just stopped breathing. You could do nothing, just stand there, try as you might a sudden rush of emnotions started clouding your perception. "Should I start cutting of their food supply?" "Should I kill her by drowning her with water into the lungs?" "Should I offer a pillow and strangle her?" Or should I look on as euthanasia would only cast me as a cold blooded murderer. You thought life still have to go on, just as flowers bloom and follow with wither.

Well, moving on is simply the solution. See beyond the facets of the process of death and death itself. It would take time but well, acceptance rather than blissful ignorance. Death transforms, we in turn get transformed with each passing day after the death of a loved one. In the end, both parties benefit, as the dead went onto life after death and we move onto better futures.