The Meaningless Post

I am just your regular guy trying to handle things that cross his path every time he wakes up from bed early in the morning. Or late if you think waking up at 9am at times is not early. Every morning, when I stretch myself awake, I think about the many things I could be doing today. Going out for breakfast, hanging out with friends, going out for lunch, enjoying the evening hanging out with friends and doing sports, have dinner at home and spend the night surfing the net and playing League of Legends. That would, of course, be ideal. In reality, however, this would be a dream. A dream that would never come true.

But, that is life. Life is not kind enough to let things go the way you want it to be. Life would just laugh at you as you try to get on with your day. The moment you make a mistake, life laughs at you. When you stumble and trip, life sneers and spits on you. When you eventually give up from a seemingly impossible task, life guffaws at the look of you throwing in the towel.

But, that is life. Life is never good to anyone because life does not have a heart. It is a force. It is a force that would make you suffer and only rewards you with a consolation if you managed to overcome the obstacles it decided to throw at you. Your consolation would be a happy sigh and the next day, life just throws you larger obstacles.

And yet, there is nothing we can do about it. If you were to sit in a shopping complex, say, Sunway Pyramid and just take a look at the general crowd, yes, you would see smiles on people’s faces as they traverse along the path that life takes them. You would see the many emotions that are known to man, be it a happy face or a downcast face. My question is how many of those people donning the happy face are genuinely happy in the inside? How many of them are actually contented with life? You might argue with my premise by saying that the rich are contented. I do not think so. In fact, I believe that it is the rich that are the unhappiest of the lot. Well, of course, my generalisation would be the categorisation of the human class as poor, average and rich; the poor being those who are just barely surpassing every day.

Being rich does not mean you are happy. Generalisation of the premise that being rich means happiness will be delightfully countered when we look into the details of their lives. One sees a whole lot of taxes, expenditures and work hours that complement the fact of that person being rich. And that is not all there is to it. One has to be in the rich man’s shoes before one has the right to assume that being rich means being happy. Of course, I myself, am not from a rich family (I pride myself of being in the middle of the poor-average class, a fact that I intend to change in the future) so my inference to my premise might not be entirely accurate.

But, the main point is not that. The main point of my subject is life. The force that binds us to the Earth and it is the reason why we are all still walking on the very ground we walk on every day. When I talk about life, I look not just at the people around me but the people around the Earth. I turn twenty in the year 2012, and while I have yet to travel around the globe to understand the lives of others, my own opinion reaches a conclusive generalisation that life of Earth’s residents are about the same wherever you are. The toppings may differ but the essence and the concept sums up to be almost similar.

We are all human. All of us deserve an equal right from the moment we are born. Take note that I said ‘from the moment we are born’. That particular phrase stands to change the moment we are able to think for ourselves and act the way we see fit. And that is where the point changes. That is where humans differ with each other, as was the case of the toppings in my previous analogy. We each have our own definition of life, each of us pertaining to the ideal that we proclaim ourselves. Nobody is wrong about his or her ideals and yet, nobody is right at the same time. Each person’s ideals vary and it is not up to one to prove it wrong, claim it wrong or condemn one for one’s ideal. Then again, the world would be living the dream if everyone were to agree with each other’s ideal and raise no arguments about it. As I mentioned, life is not that kind.

Controversies are born. Arguments are presented. And the way of life is questioned. The upper echelons of each country hold debates with one another to discuss, refute and to further solidify their own argument over where they stand in the subject of life. While I do not follow the ideals of another, I find it intriguing to understand what each one has to say about life. For each opinion, an argument is born. For each thought, lies a certain truth about about life, something that we tend to miss out at times. As I mentioned, I do not follow. I listen. I listen, understand and relate the ideals of another with my own.

And yet, the conclusion on what life really is can never be drawn. It is an unfinished work that can never be finished by man. What is life? What really is the meaning to life? Do we live today, so that we can die tomorrow? Do we live out lives, just because living is an obligation set by whatever unnatural forces in the universe? We will never know. What we do know is our very own perception of life. 

When I began to write this post, I was in my office, feeling a little bored from the lack of work. At that point of time, I had almost everything in mind to complete the post. There just was not enough time. Now, I am finishing this work at home, free from the working hours but the thought has dissipated. What remains are the remnants of my thought at that point of time in my life. I can never go back to that thought as it begins to lose itself in the void. What you are reading are at best, my thoughts at the point of time where I actually focus and bring my thoughts into life. 

I digress. 

So, at the end of it all, it boils down to the each and every perception one has on life. No one is in control of another person's life. Not when one's own life requires all the self-control one can muster to ensure the continuity of that life. As I write the previous sentence, I think about the ending I can give to this long and i think, almost meaningless post. Do I end it with my perception of life? Do i give yet another tantalizing paragraph on what life is about? 

I shall end it with this. 

Life is not up to one's expectations. 

Life is a force of its own. 

Life plays with you and your only way to get through life is to return the play to it. 

Hence, the end of this post. 

The Journey We Took Together, Even When We Are Apart

This post is dedicated to my father, who as of 3/8/2012 at 12.15pm has moved on to the next journey where I would not be following. These are my immediate thoughts and the words are mine alone.
Hence, my epitaph.

When I first heard that my father had cancer, it was during the middle of my A-Levels A2 examinations, right before, what would have been at that time the hardest paper of my life, Further Mathematics Paper 1. Naturally, I was shocked and was emotionally unstable at that time. Taking several factors into consideration (my father has never drank nor does he smoke or take drugs whatsoever), this was really a surprise. To make things worse, it was tongue cancer, or commonly known as oral cancer, one of the most dangerous cancers in the world. I wouldn't go into much detail over what transpired after that. Of course, there was the scans, the reports and finally the decision to undergo an operation to remove the affected part. Little did we know that it was not the end of the fight.

It took a while but when his condition showed no signs of major improvement, a further scan showed that the operation had not removed all of the cancer cells. The cells had struck another part and this time, operation was not an option as my father was already so weak. What do we do next?

The next few months after that revelation was a struggle for him. How would you go about eating when you know that contact with the affected part(the tongue) would aggravate the cells? Still, he kept on staying alive, a true fighter. He might be emotionally unstable, or very weak or unable to talk but it did not matter as he kept on going for the months.

Right before my first year Mech Eng course final exam, i received news that even the second chemotherapy had failed. More critical options were brought up but with my father reduced to fighting with his withered body, how much suffering can he continue to take? There were talks of another operation but in the end, it was decided against due to his weakened body. After my examinations, i returned home from Semenyih to remain near to my father which was for the past two months.

It was not easy. Food was the main concern apart from his steadily weakening body. He was reduced to taking liquids but even that was causing him so much pain. While at home, I witnessed pain seizures occurring as he struggled to remain in control of his body. The pain I felt as I watched him was no where near the intensity he must had felt as he still, strongly, gripped on to the string of life.

A few people has asked me, " Was his death expected?". To be perfectly honest, I myself have no idea. My father was still a fighter even in his condition. I had expected him to stay alive, alive to witness me come back from my 1 year exchange in the UK. I didn't once, had the thought of him leaving so fast. I was always assuming, that with all the fight he had, he could battle it out with the cells and miraculously, emerge victorious.

This is getting a bit too long for an epitaph. So, screw calling it an epitaph. This is more of an account.

Today(3/8/2012), I received a call at around 12.30pm from my mother that my father was in a critical condition. We had not the slightest clue that he had already moved to the next journey. When we reached his ward, it was to see his body fully covered with a white sheet. I stopped breathing at that moment. The man, who had been fighting for so long, finally gave himself to God. No. He did not gave in, his spirit was still strong, it was his body that could hold on no longer. Thus, he passed on to the next journey, the one journey where I can no longer follow until it was my time.

Am I taking this fine? No. Am I accepting his death? No. Do I have the strength to face this? No.
I am not taking this fine. I am not accepting his death. And NO, I do not have the strength to face this.

But I must.

It is not for me to decide whether I should or should not. The responsibility is now mine. I have to take this like a man. I have to accept his death. I must have the strength to go through this. My father does not wish for me to be a nervous wreak of a human. He would have wanted me to go on with life. Mourn as you should, and then continue your life. I quote my friend "You are part of him and that part of him still lives in you. Life through this and grow up to be the person he wishes to see, the proud son, his proud son." He has left me a legacy, a legacy I should keep and a legacy I should retain. However much the mistakes he has made, however much the words he has spoken to me, it is something that i must remember. I am the son of my father. The journey we took together, even when we are apart is not something that I can simply let go. It is engraved in my memory.

I sit now, in front of my laptop, composing this account, trying as hard as i can, to remember his last words that were spoken to me. And even when his last words were not coherent, it was his last words to me.

This is not a farewell that I am saying to you, my father. I do not wave goodbye to you, not when I am still breathing, not when it is my turn to board the next train. This is au revoir. Wherever you are seeing me, remember. It is not the actions i took, but the thoughts that I carry with it as I go on with life. You may not be in this world anymore, but through me, you will see what your son has for you.

Chang Ching Wei