When February Comes Again

I went to one particular store yesterday and saw pink and red in almost every corner. It’s official, the month of love is here. I always think it’s ridiculous to say that February is the month of love, just because of Valentine’s Day. February has never been a special month to me, until a year ago. Lately the memories from perhaps the darkest February ever, occupied my mind. It seemed I’ve been counting the day until the 17th comes. That was the date my beloved mother passed away. She was 59.

I remember vividly I was sitting in front of my computer and had a chat with my sister through Facebook. It was almost midnight and everybody has already slept. Maybe I knew deep down that I wouldn’t sleep at all that night. Time’s ticking away and I waited my sister’s response. Then several words that made up a sentence that I wish I didn’t understand, were punched through keyboards from thousands of miles away,”Sis, mama has died”. I read it again and again and again. I swallowed hard and suddenly my vision was blurred. Lymphoma has beaten my mother.

I’ve never been good in grieving. Until today, I haven’t been able to visit my mother’s grave and I was my mother’s only daughter who didn’t attend her funeral and wake. At some point, I couldn’t even cry despite the fact I really wanted to. Days after my mother’s passing, I channeled my art side that’s always been the strongest side in my life. I drew, created new arts (cards, scrapbooks, green craft, etc) and took lots of pictures. That’s what I always do to calm my nerve and emotions, through art therapy. So when at last another February comes, I can compose my mourning and tell my self,”It’ll be fine”.


Under A Daisy


2 thoughts on “When February Comes Again

  1. Reblogged this on rexmichaels.

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