Sunday, January 01, 2012
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The long awaited event finally arrived. The bride looked radiant, the groom looked dashing, the ceremony went smoothly with small obstacles here and there, but nothing major. But that's for the bride and groom to tell, in their own blogs. This is my blog, so of course I would talk about me.
A few months ago, a very good friend asked me to be her maid of honour. I was very happy for her, but I was also terrified. I had never ever done it before and I don't want to stuff things up for her. All I knew I knew from TV, as usual. I accompanied my friend to choose her wedding gown and veil. Then I received a call from Mom, asking me to come home. She didn't sound like her usual self and her speech was muffled, like somebody with stroke, so I left everything and flew home. Mom's condition was awful. She had a seizure a few days before I came and scared the heck of everybody. When I arrived she was a bit better, but as I mentioned in a previous blog, she hurt her back and ended up bed-bound. It was hard leaving her, but I knew she was in very capable hands.
Back in Sydney, it was very hard to switch from sad mode to happy mode. I didn't think of my mother all the time, of course, but somehow I kept thinking of her when we went out to look for accessories, shoes, and other things. Maybe because of the contrast. There I was preparing for a party while my mother was lying in bed staring at the wall. I tried to tell my friend and the bride's maid about my mother's condition, but I guess they didn't want to spoil the happy mood or had a lot already on their plates so they quickly changed the subject.
While I was Jakarta, Mischa's other good friend, Fifi helped Mischa with the preparation. I was actually very glad because I didn't have to feel very guilty about not helping Mischa. And if indeed I had to go home before the wedding, Mischa would be in good hands. Maybe God heard my mental conflict and it turned out I had a lot of assignments on Monday, so I had good reasons not to come along for other shopping trips.
After we found all that the bride needed for the big day, it was our turn. We started looking for bridesmaid gowns. Those who knew me well probably knew that apart from wearing swimsuits at the swimming pool I never wore anything above my knee since my last PE session in high school. I never wore sleeveless shirts since I turned 10. And I never ever wore tank tops. If you ever shopped for bridesmaid outfits in Sydney you would know that they always have either plunging necklines or bustiers. And I don't have boobs for those dresses to hang on to. I was really hoping we could find something with a short jacket or a shawl. The first day of the hunt was a disaster. I didn't even have to complain. My friends could see for themselves how bad those dresses looked on me, while the other bridesmaid always looked stunning. Somehow we managed to find something not too revealing in the mother-of-the-bride section. That was a relief. I began to feel a bit better.
The following week we continued making the bonbonnier and planned for the hen's party. At this stage I received news that my mom was undergoing radiation therapy and seemed to improve. I had made up my mind to go home after the wedding. I was very depressed. Maybe that was why many of my childhood illnesses returned. It was strange. The palm of my hands were full of small pockets of clear liquid. I used to have this regularly when I was at school. I had a very bad case on ingrown toenail. This was also a problem I had when I was in secondary school. I told my family about my decision, and they immediately went into emergency mode. My brother took all of us out for dinner and lectured me for half an hour. He hardly ever said two words to me these days so it was surprising. Even my niece took me out for a drive to talk to me, because she was worried. But the deciding talk came from my sister. She texted me and asked me to call her. She told me not to worry about Mom; that everybody there was looking after her. My sister said she was okay about driving to and from her home outside the city to take Mom to the hospital and that I should think of myself too. I felt a heavy weight lifted. The bubbles on my hands dried up and faded away.
We had a wonderful time at the hen's night pottery class. I was only a bit worried because my toe was still swollen and I wouldn't be able to wear heels, so my dress, which is a bit too long in heels, would be really very long. I worry about the compulsory dance. But anyway, the morning came. We arrived and started with the make up and hair. I hadn't had make up on my face since 2004. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't complain too much. It started raining. We were a bit concerned, but rain was still better than scorching heat because of our dresses. I googled maid of honour the day before and found out some of the duties that I didn't know before. And with the rainy weather, the bridesmaids were really useful, protecting the bride's gown from mud. We made it to the church. The flower girls marched in. The live music by my nieces was beautiful. Fifi glided down the aisle. I went next. I stumbled a few times because of the darn dress, but at least I didn't fall. The bride and her father went in next. Perfect. The atmosphere solemn, happy and relaxed at the same time.
Time passed quickly and before we know it it was time for the reception. After meal me and Fifi made our way to the cottage to freshen up. On the way back we found the best man, half drunk, rehearsing his speech. Somebody is more worried than I am, I thought, and unembarrassedly I immediately felt better. When it was time to dance, I looked at the bride and the groom's faces. They looked like they were about to jump off a plane without parachutes, but they did well. A big finale where the groom lifted the bride and turned round and round. Big applause. Then our turn. It's just left right left right step. Very easy. I didn't trip. Thank God. I danced with the groom's best friend. He twirled me around a few times. It was fun. I also danced with the bride's father, which was awkward. And he was even more uncomfortable than I was. Hehehe.. Then it was over. Phew..
My toe, which had been bombarded with three sets of antibiotic without success, suddenly started to heal. I thought of writing about the whole experience, but kept putting it off. Most of it would be about me complaining anyway. I hate parties, I hate to socialise among strangers, I hate wearing a dress, I hate make-up, I hate party tantrums, but anyway it's over, I survived. I'm glad I did it. I hope I never have to do it again for other friends or relatives, but of course I will if they ask.
A few months ago, a very good friend asked me to be her maid of honour. I was very happy for her, but I was also terrified. I had never ever done it before and I don't want to stuff things up for her. All I knew I knew from TV, as usual. I accompanied my friend to choose her wedding gown and veil. Then I received a call from Mom, asking me to come home. She didn't sound like her usual self and her speech was muffled, like somebody with stroke, so I left everything and flew home. Mom's condition was awful. She had a seizure a few days before I came and scared the heck of everybody. When I arrived she was a bit better, but as I mentioned in a previous blog, she hurt her back and ended up bed-bound. It was hard leaving her, but I knew she was in very capable hands.
Back in Sydney, it was very hard to switch from sad mode to happy mode. I didn't think of my mother all the time, of course, but somehow I kept thinking of her when we went out to look for accessories, shoes, and other things. Maybe because of the contrast. There I was preparing for a party while my mother was lying in bed staring at the wall. I tried to tell my friend and the bride's maid about my mother's condition, but I guess they didn't want to spoil the happy mood or had a lot already on their plates so they quickly changed the subject.
While I was Jakarta, Mischa's other good friend, Fifi helped Mischa with the preparation. I was actually very glad because I didn't have to feel very guilty about not helping Mischa. And if indeed I had to go home before the wedding, Mischa would be in good hands. Maybe God heard my mental conflict and it turned out I had a lot of assignments on Monday, so I had good reasons not to come along for other shopping trips.
After we found all that the bride needed for the big day, it was our turn. We started looking for bridesmaid gowns. Those who knew me well probably knew that apart from wearing swimsuits at the swimming pool I never wore anything above my knee since my last PE session in high school. I never wore sleeveless shirts since I turned 10. And I never ever wore tank tops. If you ever shopped for bridesmaid outfits in Sydney you would know that they always have either plunging necklines or bustiers. And I don't have boobs for those dresses to hang on to. I was really hoping we could find something with a short jacket or a shawl. The first day of the hunt was a disaster. I didn't even have to complain. My friends could see for themselves how bad those dresses looked on me, while the other bridesmaid always looked stunning. Somehow we managed to find something not too revealing in the mother-of-the-bride section. That was a relief. I began to feel a bit better.
The following week we continued making the bonbonnier and planned for the hen's party. At this stage I received news that my mom was undergoing radiation therapy and seemed to improve. I had made up my mind to go home after the wedding. I was very depressed. Maybe that was why many of my childhood illnesses returned. It was strange. The palm of my hands were full of small pockets of clear liquid. I used to have this regularly when I was at school. I had a very bad case on ingrown toenail. This was also a problem I had when I was in secondary school. I told my family about my decision, and they immediately went into emergency mode. My brother took all of us out for dinner and lectured me for half an hour. He hardly ever said two words to me these days so it was surprising. Even my niece took me out for a drive to talk to me, because she was worried. But the deciding talk came from my sister. She texted me and asked me to call her. She told me not to worry about Mom; that everybody there was looking after her. My sister said she was okay about driving to and from her home outside the city to take Mom to the hospital and that I should think of myself too. I felt a heavy weight lifted. The bubbles on my hands dried up and faded away.
We had a wonderful time at the hen's night pottery class. I was only a bit worried because my toe was still swollen and I wouldn't be able to wear heels, so my dress, which is a bit too long in heels, would be really very long. I worry about the compulsory dance. But anyway, the morning came. We arrived and started with the make up and hair. I hadn't had make up on my face since 2004. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't complain too much. It started raining. We were a bit concerned, but rain was still better than scorching heat because of our dresses. I googled maid of honour the day before and found out some of the duties that I didn't know before. And with the rainy weather, the bridesmaids were really useful, protecting the bride's gown from mud. We made it to the church. The flower girls marched in. The live music by my nieces was beautiful. Fifi glided down the aisle. I went next. I stumbled a few times because of the darn dress, but at least I didn't fall. The bride and her father went in next. Perfect. The atmosphere solemn, happy and relaxed at the same time.
Time passed quickly and before we know it it was time for the reception. After meal me and Fifi made our way to the cottage to freshen up. On the way back we found the best man, half drunk, rehearsing his speech. Somebody is more worried than I am, I thought, and unembarrassedly I immediately felt better. When it was time to dance, I looked at the bride and the groom's faces. They looked like they were about to jump off a plane without parachutes, but they did well. A big finale where the groom lifted the bride and turned round and round. Big applause. Then our turn. It's just left right left right step. Very easy. I didn't trip. Thank God. I danced with the groom's best friend. He twirled me around a few times. It was fun. I also danced with the bride's father, which was awkward. And he was even more uncomfortable than I was. Hehehe.. Then it was over. Phew..
My toe, which had been bombarded with three sets of antibiotic without success, suddenly started to heal. I thought of writing about the whole experience, but kept putting it off. Most of it would be about me complaining anyway. I hate parties, I hate to socialise among strangers, I hate wearing a dress, I hate make-up, I hate party tantrums, but anyway it's over, I survived. I'm glad I did it. I hope I never have to do it again for other friends or relatives, but of course I will if they ask.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Some things you see just follow you around in your head. For example a 16 year old ex-prostitute, who ran away from an abusive mother and started selling her body just so she could buy a motorbike. When she returned to her village with the money, the mother was nice to her, and told her, “It's too late now. You’re already in the mud so just continue doing it.” This mother is the same person who beat her up in public because she went out with a classmate. It’s hard to forget this young girl, and even harder to understand her situation.
It’s very hard to look at a middle-aged fisherman in a bright orange prisoner outfit. T-shirt, shorts, a pair of red shoes. He was caught for people smuggling and is looking at 5 to 7 years jail sentence. It was hard looking at him walk out the room, stop to pull up the hem of his shirt to wipe his tears and cover his face. He understands why he is in prison, but he clearly doesn’t understand why he will have to serve 5 to 7 years away from his family, friends and home. And neither do I.
It’s very hard to look at a middle-aged fisherman in a bright orange prisoner outfit. T-shirt, shorts, a pair of red shoes. He was caught for people smuggling and is looking at 5 to 7 years jail sentence. It was hard looking at him walk out the room, stop to pull up the hem of his shirt to wipe his tears and cover his face. He understands why he is in prison, but he clearly doesn’t understand why he will have to serve 5 to 7 years away from his family, friends and home. And neither do I.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Promise
The last time I visited Mom, her condition tore my heart. After an incident, which happened because she was being “creative” or was trying to be “independent”, she couldn’t even walk to the bathroom because it was too painful. Usually my sister and her husband took Mom to the healer’s place during the weekend. Maybe Mom didn’t want to trouble my sister’s hubby, so she hired two men to take her to her usual healer. The men were not trained to help frail old ladies. They were a bit rough during a particularly difficult part of the path towards the healer’s home, and my mother hurt her back. A few days later she couldn’t even get out of bed. She called a masseuse, who rubbed her back for a few minutes. A couple of days later she called another masseuse, who rubbed her back for about an hour. The pain got worse. She called her usual healer to come. His assistant said he was busy, he usually don’t do home visits, etc. etc. She sent the helper to the healer’s place, more than once. She sent my sister-in-law to talk to fetch the healer, several times. In the end the healer gave in an come. Mom was as happy as a little girl, which was scary to watch. But even her favourite healer couldn’t help. We took her to a Chinese herbalist, who stuck some medicine on her back. The pain became so bad that Mom even agreed to wear diapers, something that she fought so hard against in the past. She agreed to have an X-ray, another thing that she also fought against in the past. And this was after the doctor came to our home and told us about her life’s story. The doctor cried, and I cried, and Kak N (a relative who is like an older sister to us) cried. A few days later Mom agreed to have an X-ray. It turned out that she had fractures at a couple of places. She had to stay in bed.
Before I went home, Mom borrowed money from several people. She borrowed money from the helper’s aunt, of all people, even though every month she receives more money than most of my friends in Jakarta who are working full time. She receives more money that the combined money of a friend and her husband. And what did she do with the money? She asked me to count it, and asked me to take a big wad. She got very angry when I refused. I asked her how she was going to pay her debts, she told me my brother was going to give her some money. I took some of the money and left some in her cupboard. When I got back to Sydney, I called her and said that I just got a big order and I would send her some money. She refused. A couple of weeks later she texted me and asked me to call. I called and she asked me to send the money that I offered. So I sent back the money that she gave to me. Crazy..
It is very clear to me that my Mom cannot be trusted to make logical judgements anymore. She has always had her own set of logics, but clearly at present it is very close to a judgement of an 11-year-old school girl. And yet she is still running the show. She is still making the decisions and giving the orders. It's just mad..
I was planning to come home to take care of her. But when she asked me to do the very same thing, I felt very disappointed. Who is this very selfish lady who is asking me to leave my own life behind for her sake? Who is this lady who has such low regards on my efforts and achievements that she thinks I am better off staying home, not working, and play nanny for the rest of her life? Who is this lady who is not concerned at all about my future after she is gone? As I said Mom has always had her own set of logics and with her very good intentions had very often hurt people left right and center and sometimes caused more harm than good. Afterwards she bitterly complained about how ungrateful people were to her. She attributed all the bad things that happened to people she knew to what they had done to hurt her. The things she did to me, either to educate, or to get extra money for the family, or to make me more presentable, scarred me for life. But she’s my mother. She was often an awful mom but I know she did her best.
I promised I would come home. And time is ticking. Days go by in a flash and very soon I have leave my home in Sydney. I have set my advertisements to stop in a couple of month's time. Soon I will have to write and submit a letter of resignation to all the agencies who have been employing me as a panelist. Then I will have to sort out my garbage. I will throw out or give away what I cannot take. I will ask if I could leave some boxes here. Maybe I have to send some. And then it’s time for travel arrangements. And then it’s time to say goodbye to all the things that I love. Another chapter of my life will end, and a new one will start. I am determined to enjoy my time with Mom. I will enjoy the idleness. I will travel, learn to drive, learn new skills, have new adventures. I will paint and draw again. Maybe I could even work and earn some money, hopefully legally. The only shadow that darkens the picture are questions: What will I do when this is over? Can I ever come back? I would be a few years older, but not more experienced, not more skilled. My body would be weaker and my brain would be slower. But who am I to predict what the future holds? Who could say whether I would even be around tomorrow and in what shape? All I could do is hope that I am doing the right thing, and that everything else will take care of itself.
Before I went home, Mom borrowed money from several people. She borrowed money from the helper’s aunt, of all people, even though every month she receives more money than most of my friends in Jakarta who are working full time. She receives more money that the combined money of a friend and her husband. And what did she do with the money? She asked me to count it, and asked me to take a big wad. She got very angry when I refused. I asked her how she was going to pay her debts, she told me my brother was going to give her some money. I took some of the money and left some in her cupboard. When I got back to Sydney, I called her and said that I just got a big order and I would send her some money. She refused. A couple of weeks later she texted me and asked me to call. I called and she asked me to send the money that I offered. So I sent back the money that she gave to me. Crazy..
It is very clear to me that my Mom cannot be trusted to make logical judgements anymore. She has always had her own set of logics, but clearly at present it is very close to a judgement of an 11-year-old school girl. And yet she is still running the show. She is still making the decisions and giving the orders. It's just mad..
I was planning to come home to take care of her. But when she asked me to do the very same thing, I felt very disappointed. Who is this very selfish lady who is asking me to leave my own life behind for her sake? Who is this lady who has such low regards on my efforts and achievements that she thinks I am better off staying home, not working, and play nanny for the rest of her life? Who is this lady who is not concerned at all about my future after she is gone? As I said Mom has always had her own set of logics and with her very good intentions had very often hurt people left right and center and sometimes caused more harm than good. Afterwards she bitterly complained about how ungrateful people were to her. She attributed all the bad things that happened to people she knew to what they had done to hurt her. The things she did to me, either to educate, or to get extra money for the family, or to make me more presentable, scarred me for life. But she’s my mother. She was often an awful mom but I know she did her best.
I promised I would come home. And time is ticking. Days go by in a flash and very soon I have leave my home in Sydney. I have set my advertisements to stop in a couple of month's time. Soon I will have to write and submit a letter of resignation to all the agencies who have been employing me as a panelist. Then I will have to sort out my garbage. I will throw out or give away what I cannot take. I will ask if I could leave some boxes here. Maybe I have to send some. And then it’s time for travel arrangements. And then it’s time to say goodbye to all the things that I love. Another chapter of my life will end, and a new one will start. I am determined to enjoy my time with Mom. I will enjoy the idleness. I will travel, learn to drive, learn new skills, have new adventures. I will paint and draw again. Maybe I could even work and earn some money, hopefully legally. The only shadow that darkens the picture are questions: What will I do when this is over? Can I ever come back? I would be a few years older, but not more experienced, not more skilled. My body would be weaker and my brain would be slower. But who am I to predict what the future holds? Who could say whether I would even be around tomorrow and in what shape? All I could do is hope that I am doing the right thing, and that everything else will take care of itself.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
A Wedding
Registration documents – check, microphone – check, table and table cloth – check, decorations –check. The groom is here. Great. The interpreter is here, too. Wonderful. And the bride and the rest of the family will arrive in fifteen minutes or so.
We are at Blues Point Reserve in Sydney. The weather forecast said that it would be cloudy. As they often do, they got it wrong. Blue sky, sparkling cobalt sea, emerald green grass – a perfect setting for a perfect wedding.
I’m the wedding celebrant today. My job is to solemnise the wedding between Tim and Karin. Karin is a lovely Indonesian girl. Her parents and brothers came all the way from Java for this special day. That’s why we have an interpreter with us today. I’ve never used an interpreter in a wedding before, but it should be okay. I have just briefed her and she seems to have prepared adequately. And look, there comes the bride. It’s show time.
I greeted the family and we are ready to roll. A few words from me, followed by lighting the candle for those who cannot attend (a bit of drama there, cos it’s so windy it takes five minutes to light the candle, a few pesky tourists pass by and stare, a boat passes very close by, we wave at them), followed by exchange of vows, the groom kisses the bride, photos, photos, done. Overall a simple yet beautiful wedding.
More photos. First the bride and the groom. Then with the bride’s family, then with the groom’s family, then both, then with me and the interpreter. The photographer says to me, “Would you like to take off your sunnies for the photo?”
Sunnies?? Sunglasess??? What?? Have I been wearing them throughout the ceremony??
“You’ve been wearing them throughout the ceremony,” the photographer confirms.
My face turns lobster red. I apologise to everybody. They must think that I am very eccentric or very rude. Or maybe they think this is common in Sydney. Anyway, there is nothing I can do now. Tim and Karen will have a celebrant with her sunnies on in their photo album.
We are at Blues Point Reserve in Sydney. The weather forecast said that it would be cloudy. As they often do, they got it wrong. Blue sky, sparkling cobalt sea, emerald green grass – a perfect setting for a perfect wedding.
I’m the wedding celebrant today. My job is to solemnise the wedding between Tim and Karin. Karin is a lovely Indonesian girl. Her parents and brothers came all the way from Java for this special day. That’s why we have an interpreter with us today. I’ve never used an interpreter in a wedding before, but it should be okay. I have just briefed her and she seems to have prepared adequately. And look, there comes the bride. It’s show time.
I greeted the family and we are ready to roll. A few words from me, followed by lighting the candle for those who cannot attend (a bit of drama there, cos it’s so windy it takes five minutes to light the candle, a few pesky tourists pass by and stare, a boat passes very close by, we wave at them), followed by exchange of vows, the groom kisses the bride, photos, photos, done. Overall a simple yet beautiful wedding.
More photos. First the bride and the groom. Then with the bride’s family, then with the groom’s family, then both, then with me and the interpreter. The photographer says to me, “Would you like to take off your sunnies for the photo?”
Sunnies?? Sunglasess??? What?? Have I been wearing them throughout the ceremony??
“You’ve been wearing them throughout the ceremony,” the photographer confirms.
My face turns lobster red. I apologise to everybody. They must think that I am very eccentric or very rude. Or maybe they think this is common in Sydney. Anyway, there is nothing I can do now. Tim and Karen will have a celebrant with her sunnies on in their photo album.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Realisation
If it's your fault and you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine.
If it's my fault and you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine.
If you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine.
Hmm... is this a sign of ... aging?
I am turning into a grumpy old woman, and I LIKE it!!!
If it's my fault and you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine.
If you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine.
Hmm... is this a sign of ... aging?
I am turning into a grumpy old woman, and I LIKE it!!!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
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