The longest Saturday and a muse

It has been more than 24 hours since my Saturday began (was up since 3am back in Singapore) .... and it is still Saturday, now that I have arrived in San Francisco. It is only 12.52pm here.

I have eaten two breakfasts with lunch and dinner in between... and I have yet to eat lunch and dinner before this particular Saturday adjourns. Bleargh... I am utterly disorientated. Zombified is an understatement.

I would sleep. But knowing me, I would probably oversleep and wake up only after the plane to Austin has taken off. Haha. Anyone attempting to wake me up from my nap could get punched, kicked or bitten. Or be traumatised by a temper tantrum. With bolts of lightning and peals of thunder. Or be scalded by an avalanche of angry words.

Just saying. Self-amusement is keeping me from falling asleep and growing moody. Most of my friends are asleep on the other side of the world (where Sunday's sun is just about to rise) ~ so there are almost none to chat with online. Oh well. I am yet thankful for my hubby's whatsapp messages every now and then. I should go and chat with God.

Spent the past 8 hours or so (while the plane flew from Tokyo to San Francisco) watching movies. Four movies, I counted. And every movie I randomly picked turned out to be sad. Like super-duper sad. I was attracted to the movie titles. The hopeless romantic in me craved an aromatic brew of bittersweet.  The humorous side of me wanted something to tickle my funny bone. The melancholic part of me wanted something deep and profound to not strike me so much as seep into me. Of course, I would have liked to kill all three birds with one stone. And thus, my choice of movies given their promising titles.

Well, they turned out to be mostly sad. I quietly wept at the end of the third movie, thankful for the drone of the airplane that kept me from waking my neighbour up. It was too poignant. Aside from agonising over my now-quadruple eyelids and pregnant eyebags, a muse lingers... How painfully hard it is to let go of something/somebody you have truly loved or placed so much hope upon - especially when you know that the parting is inevitable.

For me, I am particularly remembering that very moment at the ICU when the doctors told us that they would need to unhook mom from the ventilators (that kept her lungs going) because she was already brain dead. And brain death qualifies one to be medically certified as dead. Fullstop. That was the last bit hope ripped away completely from us. It was a moment of denial, anger, bargaining and depression all at once ~ and yet, a moment whereby acceptance was inevitable. We were forced to accept that life would mean moving on without mom. It would mean saying goodbye and leaving behind her presence with us. And there was nothing we could do about it... except to trust God.

I hope to sleep on my next flight. No more movies for today.