TODAY - ON MY BIRTHDAY

Today is my birthday - on this 20th day in May. How do I feel? It is just another day. But then again...

By all accounts - I am old. Old enough to acknowledge it and not be embarrassed about admitting it. In fact, it's liberating. On many fronts.

I am no longer in a hurry to achieve this and that. That phase in my life - of pursuing dreams, of realizing ambitions - is long gone. Knowing well that we cannot undo the past nor can we foretell the future, it is best not to dwell on the what-ifs and what-might-have been.  So, I live in the present, and focus on the here and now. After all, at this point in my life, energy is a much-prized item. Why waste it dwelling on things we cannot control?

Could I have done better? Should I have done more? Or should I have done things differently?Maybe. But life should not be about regrets. It is about having done the best that we possibly could with whatever was at our disposal at that point in time. It's about moving on - from one phase to another - with acceptance and equanimity.

I am no longer bothered by so many things that had plagued the younger me. Some things that were once important to me - I now regard as trivial because I am none the worse for not doing or having them. Someone said this: "The most important things in life are not things." I know that to be true now. 

As I got older, I have always abided by this precept in life - 'you are your own best judge'. Other peoples' opinions are just that - opinions - that have little or no bearing on the person that you are. My mother taught me this. It is better to live by one's own standards and principles than that set by others.

I have come to accept that my skin is sagging, and I have crow's feet; the laugh lines aren't there only when I laugh. My age spots seem to multiply by the day. On bad days, I look like I'm frowning even when I'm not. Keeping my weight down has become a constant struggle. It is not so much a matter of maintaining a waistline, but more a health concern so as not to overload my knees at least. Looks are not everything; right now, it is the least of my worry.

Going by what is current, there aren't many styles of clothes or shoes that will fit me. I do believe that dressing should be age-appropriate, and that limits my choice these days. The stores don't make clothes for people my age; maybe they think we shouldn't bother about clothes. Moreover, I am not the shape I used to be, and the inability to adapt to the change would make me look ridiculous. But then again I don't feel the need to make an impression on any one or any occasion. I dress to please me; I am comfortable in my own skin. 

Having said that, I am far from letting go. Personal grooming has always been a priority, and I think one should look as good as one can at any age. Not "good" as prescribed by the magazines and the media, but good for one's age. At the very least, I try to dress for the occasion and without having to try too hard. The over-riding concern now is comfort, not trend.

You see, at this age that I am, I can be philosophical about life. That's a privilege only if you have clocked this many years of life as I have.

I have one regret though - that  in my younger days I did not know enough to know that life will take its course, no matter what we do; and we can only weather it the best way we can without fretting, lamenting or agonizing over matters that would soon become trivial at the end of it all.

I have this luxury now. And the luxury of time to think and do as I deem fit. And that alone is liberating!

IT'S NOT OVER...

Yesterday I attended the Yassin-reading session which has been a monthly affair for the last two years. It is always well-attended, not least because - I suspected - it is always accompanied by lunch. In all fairness, though, most of the regulars are ladies who are retired, with time on their hands. So it started off with the customary salam, and air kisses and hugs between the more familiar ones. I had been absent from the occasion over the last two months since the MH370 incident, so I was mostly greeted by the 'long time no see' phrase. Those in the know offered condolences with looks that expressed sympathy. While I detected some genuine concern, some were touched more than others when their eyes glistened with tears even as I tried hard to fight back my own. This was the reason I had avoided company other than family for the past twelve weeks. I knew that I could not bear the expressions of sympathy in words or in looks. Nor can I talk about it like another topic of conversation. How could I? They have disappeared without trace. And it is a disappearance hinging on ambiguity. People ask me questions but what answers do I give them when I have nagging questions of my own that beg to be answered. The situation has become incomprehensible.

Most asked after my son well aware that he is the one most affected by the missing flight. What should I have told them? That he was alright and carrying on as normal when I know that that couldn't be further from the truth? His life has been torn apart within the blink of an eye. How normal could his life be when he has lost his wife of one year, his mother-in-law and sister-in-law all in one go? He is devastated, depressed and dejected beyond description. So I told them this. Outwardly, he seems to be bearing up well. He does not walk around with a crestfallen face, making every one around him miserable with grief. Nor is he moping around, wallowing in self-pity. And for this alone, I should be grateful. Perhaps, I told them, acceptance has set in for him, and he is trying his best to move on.

But I didn't tell them that I also see another side of him - that he tries to fill up every minute of his waking hours as if to avoid being alone with himself and his thoughts. He is making himself busy - as though with a vengeance. I worry that this 'busy-ness' will take its toll on him. Where food is concerned, he has thrown caution to the wind, and this worries me too. It might be his way of dealing with his grief - binge-eating for comfort. Sadly, I don't know how to help him deal with the situation.

Every time I talk about this incident, my heart breaks. The pain comes surging back; the tears flow easily - like it was just yesterday. I know that as a Muslim, I should resign to Fate; that as His creation, we will return to the Creator as and when He wills it. That we can propose, while He disposes. That we can only pray for His compassion and mercy. 

It is three months today. Clearly, I have not reconciled to the loss, much less get over it. Will I ever? It is easier said than done.