a child returns

thoughts on sadness, dying, creating happiness

The other night I found myself repeating a memory from 4 years ago, rolling it in my mind until I ended up hacking my guts out from the intense sobbing. There was something in me that I had to get out. Yet, all I could muster was a mediocre wail.

In it, I remember being woken up fully alert, how the sun had yet to emerge and the sky washed with a deep cerulean. I remember the exact texture of your silk nightgown, and how your voice sounded. I remember the night before I cried myself to sleep for reasons that felt extremely banal when crouched in front of you. Because I love you, and you’re supposed to love me back. Which was when I realised I never properly processed what had happened. Truly, it seemed like it never happened, the day went ahead as it was planned to. A hazy figment of my sleeping mind until its edges formed tangible, a glass marble lodged in my throat. A pressure that makes me want to puke so my only wish is for it to shatter into smaller pieces. Perhaps then I can swallow the shards.

The timing of this has not evaded me, with only 3 months left in the UK before I return home. 3 years ago I left Malaysia with emotional immediacy – that is to say being close to family was a constant trigger and I was always crying, thinking that dying in a foreign land could be my release. What happens to a body away from its origin?

In some ways, parts of me did die, and to my surprise, made new parts of myself from that emptiness. One night in Manchester I woke up sweating from a dream – cold night and bleeding out, dead in a foreign land. Scrambling for an anchor, it left me terrified. Not the death itself, but the location of where it happens. I recently learned that Abdul Razak died in London while seeking medical treatment. ^[1] His desire to spend his final moments in Malaysia was denied by a plane ride that would’ve been detrimental. ^[2] What image of Malaysia formed in his last thoughts? Perhaps one without me in it, without all ethnicities thriving and unafraid. ^[3] It would be rude to suggest that Malaysia did not want to receive his last living thoughts. It would be terrifying to think it could happen to me. Without knowing, it seems that I’ve internalised “Negaraku, tanah tumpahnya darahku.” (My motherland, the land where my blood spills). Some days I envy people who can get away.

⋆˙⟡☆ ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗  ☆⟡˙⋆

Now, that begs the answer of the question I’ve increasingly received:

how do you feel about it?

There are important distinctions to how this question has been asked, and they all warrant different answers:

( 1 )

How do you feel about moving back?

When the past isn’t desirable, the thought of returning sounds scary…and perhaps insurmountable. But moving back actually just means moving along a cone spiral, doesn’t it? You’re somewhere close, as if nothing’s changed, but not quite.

( 2 )

How do you feel about moving home?

Tiring. I’ve got to clean up 20 years of my life!!! also moving-ish!!!! So I’ve got space for new life.

( 3 )

How do you feel about Leaving?

What else is there to feel but grief, gratitude, and guilt? I’m preparing a farewell. I will miss everyone.

⋆˙⟡☆ ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗  ☆⟡˙⋆

Amidst all that, the question I’m asking myself is:

how should I feel about moving forward?

I’m terrified. To start thinking about my relationship with home, is to first start thinking about my relationship with my home country: Malaysia (not China, as most would joke…I think I can muster up a laugh). I feel so embarrassed that I’ve been to more UK cities than Malaysian ones. The other day I had my first cekodok and I couldn’t even spell it. When strangers label my kind as pendatang, any minute error feels like a tragedy. When strangers doubt my right to love, I learn to not feel like digging a hole and die.

I’m excited. To be able to re-explore Malaysia, for she too has changed. To hibernate, and figure out what I want to do and what I’m able to do. To meet new people that are wiser than me, and old friends who have also lived lives between the distance we hold. I’ve been manufacturing excitement by watching Malaysia holiday vlogs on YouTube, small town videos and kia kia videos on Instagram. Believing that maybe this country loves me back.

Fear and excitement have always been on both sides of the same coin. But actually, at the end of it all, I think I might be due for a long nap…