Smelly Armpits, Family, Death and Life (as it is now)

My armpits are smelly. They stank to high heaven. I should shower now but not yet. A shower would signal my brain that its okay now, you can relax, probably sleep and things. Not now though. Let us ponder together the meaning of a part of smelly armpits. Why would the Creator put in that genetic code that sweaty armpits will, after certain duration will smell like rancid McDonald's tartar sauce? What is the purpose? Is it to teach us homo sapiens the need to wash our armpits everyday? Is it to plant the seed for the idea of perfumes and later on; deodorant? Fascinating stuff.. I will shower, but not now. Let me finish this post first.

Let me savour this feeling. That feeling of typing things up for fun. I got plenty of work related typing to be done but by God, i have neglected this blog for so long.

Anyway, there had been a death in the extended family. My uncle on my father's side passed away a few days ago. I was not particularly close to him but somehow his death made my heart skipped a beat. No kidding. I had other deaths but none rocked me like his did. My memories of him was of him either going or coming back from fishing, either from the small stream in front of the rumah kampung or from the river at the back of the rumah kampung. He left three children behind. Two of which was still studying. His wife passed away about a year ago. It was always the same pattern that i have observed. When the wife passed away, the husband almost always followed suit afterwards. Maybe death by broken heart is a real thing after all. My thoughts are now for the children now that i have two of my own. How would they cope now that all that they have are each other. Either you grow up or life will force you to grow up. Whether you like it or not for accepting, really accepting that your parents are not going to be around forever for me is the final lesson of growing up. That, and the fact that our parents are not gods and heroes and heroines we all like them to be.

When we were growing up our parents projected this image of strength and resilience. Ready to chew on hot coals and lift cars if need be. At least that was the case with me. Some children have deadbeat parent or parents, forcing them to grow up even faster than they should. Life man, sometimes it comes at you fast.
Anyway, chewing hot coals and lifting cars. Being starry-eyed young thing we were, we came to see that every single things our parents or parents did as cool and particularly awesome but then as we grow up that illusion slowly loses its lustre. As a youngster we might see our fathers smoking as something cool, macho and to be emulated but then as we grew up we learned to hate the acrid smell of burning paper and tobacco until finally when we are adults ourselves we learned that it was a dumb to inhale burning thing and it could give you cancer. The pedestal upon which we placed our parents slowly crumble, nibbled away by age and sickness as we grow older until finally we can finally see that our parents are just as scared and clueless about life like we are now (well, if you have absolute certainty of where your life is heading, i'd doff my hat to you if i have one.). They made bad choices every now and then and tried to live afterwards with the consequences. You know, just living.. 

Come to think of it, who had said that history is cyclical in nature is actually right. The times and the names of the players change but the story remains the same. We live, made choices, we die and so on it goes with subsequent generation until the end of time.

So when we finally accept that our parents are flawed just as we are and that they will eventually leave us to fend for ourselves, that they will no longer be around to hug us and soothe us whenever we graze a knee or something, that is the precise moment that we have truly ascended into adulthood. Until then, we are all just over-sized teenagers. All that stuff about getting a job, getting married and shit are just societal requirements imposed on us. Hogwash..Cowpat. Adulthood is about accepting that perfection is an illusion and mortality is a sure thing.

Fuck me, i am getting teary eyed as i typed up the above.

Most if not all parents have that fierce protective emotion for their child, the urge to beat the living daylights out of anybody who made our children cry for any reason. The name of that emotion is love. It is not the default setting in all parents but most parents have it. Love. In their own way and in their own words for no two parents are made in the same mould. They are the products of their times and upbringing, just as we are.

I lost the point i am trying to make and i am indeed teary eyed.

When i joined the solat jenazah of my uncle the image that kept flashing through my head was of my uncle as a younger man one day when he came back at sundown with his fishing rod in one hand and a tree branch  full of fishes smaller than the palm of his hands in the other. That person is no more. One day its going to be my own father on that cold slab. One day its going to be me. Life is fleeting and time fucking flies (fuck you cicero).

I could not make it to the funeral on the account of the missus being left all alone at home with the kids and with a case in the next day but my dad went. The next day i called him and asked him about it and how he was (he made a trip up north that night and back home again before sunrise). The thing unsaid was how much i love him. I have always had that problem. Telling my father and mother my  how much i love them. I don't rightly know why. Then again, i had the same problem with my siblings.Maybe i am a show don't tell kind of guy.

In case you are reading this, Mak and Abah. I love you guys to bits.

Now, i try to tell my sons and wife that i love them every chance i got. Death, like me, does not keep regular hours. I am not the perfect father or the perfect husband. I am flawed like the rest of us, like my father before me and his father before him. But i try to be better. Every single day. Like the unnamed protagonist of The Road, i try to carry the fire; to be a decent human being. I try to the best of my abilities to teach the boys, my boys to carry the fire. So that in this increasingly dark world that they may shine their own way through it one day. That is all i can hope. That is all we can hope with our children and i guess that was all our parents hope for us.