Tuesday, November 3, 2009
strength- part one
the strongest person i know is my grandmother.
it isn't so much about how long she's lived, and, needless to say, the amount of suffering life imposes as the pages of time slowly turns.
grandmother told me about her first love,
and i thought that it would be interesting when she first offered to tell me,
because nothing can ever get better than a love story, coming from an aficionado.
grandmother's love story was different, she fell in love, but couldn't marry the guy she was in love with.
it was something about family, among all other cliche reasons, an obstacle which hindered her from what was truly love.
then she got married, with the man of whom she'd never come to known, not then, not today. he was my grandfather, and when he died, my grandmother knew nothing of the man she spent her life with. she wasn't in love, she was never in love. it was a mere facade, nothing else. she held it all together, with the strands of protection, love, and most of all strength.
her story was the greatest love story of all.
words or literature in itself would never be adequate enough to describe the inexorable strength grandmother had, if not, has. for she still remains the strongest woman i've ever known, the epitomy of all forms of feminism, and the irreplaceable love of a mother, if not, a person. beneath her stolid conducts and impassive demeanors, hides the strength of a million hearts, holding the scars and ruins of life with a mere thread, so strong that it will never break.
right now, im thinking, when was the last time grandmother laugh? truth be told, the answer remains unknown. there are times when grandmother would join our family jamborees, no contibutions in mind, but the power of her listening. there are times when grandmother would make the sporadic satirical comments, but other than that, grandmother never laughed. she just sat there, in a world where silence is always golden, and much preferred the impenetrable darkness, over what has become a beautiful world, because it is in darkness do she feel atmost, safe. she is a connoisseur of darkness, she knows it best, and it is through that is she finally able to find the impossible solace and comfort that comes from the deepest profundity of the dark.
likewise, we all know the reasons behind what she has become. for after what happened, can you really ever find a reason to smile? maybe, you do not need a smile but rather the strength is all that ever counts. it is better to be like grandmother, to have the strength to continue, to not let life make you fall, to fight against the world, us against the world, and win in the end, than to put on a smile made of plastic, some masquerade of the unknown. for smiles do not make strength, it is strength that truly carve real smiles.
there is a stigma in falling, at least to me. i fear falling, i fear sadness, i fear the thought of fighting against the world, knowing that there is always that chance of me losing and then, where would i go? i fear the knowledge of one day not having you there, or a world where i am alone. these nightmares, the spectors of imagination, they haunt my thoughts, encrypting reality, if it is at all possible.
but whenever i fear falling, i look at my grandmother and see a beauty. the amount of strength she has is much more beautiful than anything which life can ever offer. i smile, i laugh, i find joy in seeing a beautiful pair of red heels, in reading mass pages of literature, and taking pictures at sunkissed beaches.
but i realize, the one thing that i've been missing all this time, the one thing grandmother has that surpasses everything i could ever hope for and have is
strength.
the strongest person i know is my grandmother.
it isn't so much about how long she's lived, and, needless to say, the amount of suffering life imposes as the pages of time slowly turns.
grandmother told me about her first love,
and i thought that it would be interesting when she first offered to tell me,
because nothing can ever get better than a love story, coming from an aficionado.
grandmother's love story was different, she fell in love, but couldn't marry the guy she was in love with.
it was something about family, among all other cliche reasons, an obstacle which hindered her from what was truly love.
then she got married, with the man of whom she'd never come to known, not then, not today. he was my grandfather, and when he died, my grandmother knew nothing of the man she spent her life with. she wasn't in love, she was never in love. it was a mere facade, nothing else. she held it all together, with the strands of protection, love, and most of all strength.
her story was the greatest love story of all.
words or literature in itself would never be adequate enough to describe the inexorable strength grandmother had, if not, has. for she still remains the strongest woman i've ever known, the epitomy of all forms of feminism, and the irreplaceable love of a mother, if not, a person. beneath her stolid conducts and impassive demeanors, hides the strength of a million hearts, holding the scars and ruins of life with a mere thread, so strong that it will never break.
right now, im thinking, when was the last time grandmother laugh? truth be told, the answer remains unknown. there are times when grandmother would join our family jamborees, no contibutions in mind, but the power of her listening. there are times when grandmother would make the sporadic satirical comments, but other than that, grandmother never laughed. she just sat there, in a world where silence is always golden, and much preferred the impenetrable darkness, over what has become a beautiful world, because it is in darkness do she feel atmost, safe. she is a connoisseur of darkness, she knows it best, and it is through that is she finally able to find the impossible solace and comfort that comes from the deepest profundity of the dark.
likewise, we all know the reasons behind what she has become. for after what happened, can you really ever find a reason to smile? maybe, you do not need a smile but rather the strength is all that ever counts. it is better to be like grandmother, to have the strength to continue, to not let life make you fall, to fight against the world, us against the world, and win in the end, than to put on a smile made of plastic, some masquerade of the unknown. for smiles do not make strength, it is strength that truly carve real smiles.
there is a stigma in falling, at least to me. i fear falling, i fear sadness, i fear the thought of fighting against the world, knowing that there is always that chance of me losing and then, where would i go? i fear the knowledge of one day not having you there, or a world where i am alone. these nightmares, the spectors of imagination, they haunt my thoughts, encrypting reality, if it is at all possible.
but whenever i fear falling, i look at my grandmother and see a beauty. the amount of strength she has is much more beautiful than anything which life can ever offer. i smile, i laugh, i find joy in seeing a beautiful pair of red heels, in reading mass pages of literature, and taking pictures at sunkissed beaches.
but i realize, the one thing that i've been missing all this time, the one thing grandmother has that surpasses everything i could ever hope for and have is
strength.
i love you most ardently, 8:33 PM.
