My dad kept getting worried about me not having enough money.
My dad told the friends who visited him how worried he was about sending me off to Jakarta.
The day we found out he was critically ill, he hid the rubber tubes planted in his neck so we wouldn’t get worried.
He’s worried that we would get worried.
The first time he got sent to the emergency ICU he said he was afraid of the death around him.
The first time he got sent to the emergency ICU I hid my face away from him and he said “Ayah gakpapa, sini, sayang, Ayah gakpapa.”
In her song, Indiana, Adrianne Lenker sang:
“Daddy wanted me to leave it
Indiana, Indiana in the cold
Said, “You know you really don’t need it
Leave the fame for the road”
He never taught me to face my fear head-on or move mountains, the first time he taught me how was at his funeral.
Like teaching me how to ride a bike he just pushed me and let my instincts kick in.
And after that, there’s been nothing but more mountains to move.
In his book called Grief is the Thing with Feathers, Max Porter wrote about how grief is a defending force that protects the grieving family.
I understand now, because to move mountains I have to leave behind the baggage that drags my feet. I leave behind what’s not helping me to move the mountains. I know better, and I deserve better.
I reel into sadness I never thought my body could ever contain. I couldn’t get out of bed, the acid in my stomach reached my brain and ate it up, mistakenly seeing it as broccoli.
The man who firmly taught me about taking distance and making boundaries suddenly fled when I practiced what he preached.
He wanted me to survive on crumbs and when I gave him crumbs in return everything crumbled.
The men in the office hold their knuckles on my head and smash it like boiled potatoes.
This is when you should actually, really worry about me, Dad.
But you’re not, so I pretend the songs tell me what you wanted to tell me.
“One shot, honey, collect it all
The dust inside the rusted souls
You should get a ride ’cause you can’t control
The heart that beats under the bone
Come on my combat chameleon,
Give it up, you’ve got your life to attend to.”
I refuse to be crushed by the mountains. Look at me attending my life, Dad. Look at the friends who worried about me and actually want to go through the difficulties of loving me. The things they do always surprise me.
I think they’re the extension of God’s hand, maybe you told Him to take care of me from right under His nose. Maybe you are worried about me afterall.
