Cry in the Night

The scream was pure and swift as I collapsed. My legs are turned to jello. My dad’s body slumped over his recliner. His refusal to go to the hospital the night before was a fatal flaw. It’s been four days since his death and I am experiencing sadness and longing. But on the other hand, peace and joy. My dad had been sick for quite a while and I guess he must have seen both mom and me suffering for his ailing health. The restrictions were many and I held it over my weary shoulders. Now that he is gone, mom and me have become closer than ever. Gone are the arguments and are replaced with hugs, laughter, and the occasional tears. She has a strong faith in God and that has made her whole. I know a part of her will miss dad, however for the most part we both are managing just fine.
Unfortunately, across the ocean amidst the bloodshed in Libya a young woman is trapped in her home struggling to survive another day. She makes a desperateplea to CNN’s Anderson Cooper. She speaks of the hundreds of Libyans dying in the streets against Gaddafi’s thugs for their freedom. Her voice on the verge of tears as she confides in Anderson and the world of her fear and pain. My heart aches for this stranger who is just like me in every way: She is human. We are all human, doesn’t that count for something? She has no right to suffer like this. Nobody does. What’s more rmarkable is the way Anderson’s voice struggling to maintain his voice that it seems at any given moment he will burst into tears. Call it what you will, he has every right to feel emotion given that he, too is human.
Divided we stand, but we are united by the pain in our hearts.
http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2011/02/24/video-libyan-woman-issues-a-cry-in-the-night/

Like Father, Like Daughter

Saturday, I attended a workshop on social justice at Mercy hospital. One of the speakers was author and activist Loung Ung. She wrote the heartbreaking and beautiful bestselling memoir "First They Killed My Father" about surviving Cambodia's killing fields which not only claimed the lives of her parents and two sisters, but over 2 million Cambodians. As a child, she has known hunger, disease, and death for three terrible years. As she spoke, I was drawn to her story and the heartbreaking details of life in the killing fields. Her voice shook with emotion and her almond eyes watered as if she was about to dissolve into a puddle of tears. I can only imagine what it was like to lose her family, but talking and reliving it again and again. She has triumphed over adversities too painful to imagine and she is an internationally recongnized author and activist inspiring a whole new generation of activist like me. I was almost moved to tears and my heart ached for her loss, but our hug and kind words.

Coming home, I saw my dad who's health hasn't been that great snoonizing on the recliner. It has reminded me of Loung's beloved father, who was sadly killed by Khmer Rouge soldiers when she was only seven years old. When her age, I was enjoying my dad's company at the beach or seeing him come home from work with pastries. Now that he's been in and out of hospital's these past few years, I wish I could become six years old again pretending that things are okay. I can't do that. Loung's heartbreak reminds me of a song by Florence + The Machine called "Dog Days Are Over":

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father.

Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers.
Leave all your love and your longing behind.
You cant carry it with you if you want to survive.

She describes one day when her mother turned her away and told her to get out. Little Loung and her surviving siblings parted ways to escape the killing fields for a fighting chance. A mother's final act of love and despair. I think, in order to get through life, you have to be able to leave your painful past behind. Longings of what could have been and if only will only sink you further into oblivion. I have learned from expereince that any end can be a new beginning and for Loung, facing the lonely road she was able to run for the ones she loved. The miles slipping futher into the sunset, where we meet and comfort each other with kind words.

Speed of Light

Can you see me?
Watch me take flight from an empty room.
I see all the bright things drifting in pefect harmony.
Then there are the dark clouds eating up the bright things like chewing gum.
A whrilwind sends me spinning, falling, and sinking into oblivion.
Where has my heart gone?
It bleeds for the things I could not say.
These eyes cry for what I have lost.
I wish you could see me.
I know you can not.

New Year = New Books!

Yes, I have returned here. I've been mostly hitting the books (obviously), school, and Tumblr. One of my friends convinced me to resurrect this old blog I have neglected for several months. OK, it's a new year and my goal is to reach 100 books (Last year's book count: 59). If I could reach 50,000 words in 30 days on NaNoWriMo, then this should be a walk in the park. 

Until then, I leave you with Chayanne's latest hit "Si No Estas"