And I read too much and I write too much and I’m trying to find God everywhere.

Porpor, I went back home and the house still stands the same. The wooden floors lift easily when I walk on them, and I feel haunted by the days those floors first warped with age. It took me back to the time when you insisted they stay untouched even if it meant you might fall. You refused to move downstairs and insisted on walking those same stairs.

One day, you did fall, and your health was never the same after. You always said some things are worth holding onto even if they’ve worn with time. We all knew it was because the house raised two generations of our family — from your kids to your grandchildren. It held memories and love big enough to fill two lifetimes. That’s why you didn’t want to leave. At the time, I thought you were just being stubborn. I remember all of us arguing about your decision. But now I’m starting to see why. I see it, I get it. It was your way of loving and it’s etched into every corner of that house. Being back there in Malaysia sometimes haunts me. But it’s also where I feel you most, in the most caught off guard ways, like these wooden floors. The house is now a blessing and a curse for me. Like warm rice on a cold plate. But then I remember the little things. The folded clothes I never noticed you folding, your habit of preparing my favorite dot dot mee quietly in the mornings, and the kitchen you always loved to wake up in first, brewing that perfect cup of Milo every single day.

You always said you were okay when you weren’t. For you, a home filled with people meant most. And I’m so sorry. I don’t know why but I just feel so sorry towards you. I’m sorry for everything Porpor.

I wish you had told me you weren’t okay. I was angry for a long time that you carried the pain alone and didn’t share it with us. Until you left, I only knew how bad it got. And it eats me inside. But life doesn’t wait to move on and it has lightened so, so many things for me. I’m now starting to get it with time and understand how to let things go healthily. But on a bad day or a really good day, I can’t help it but miss you so much.

Mom has been going to the beach to talk to you, sometimes sending me pictures of herself in her sunhat. I’ve been going to church to pray for you and met a really nice Vietnamese-American priest here who listens patiently with tender care. Dad listens to your favorite Teresa Cheng whenever he misses you, her songs bring back so many memories for him. Your great-granddaughter is growing strong. She’s adorable and beautiful, has a cute smile, giggles all the time, a true blessing to have as my niece and you woulda been so happy to meet her. :)

I’ve been trying to find God. Feels weird saying that lol. I never thought I’d seriously commit to faith again. But sometimes in songs, in sunlight, in nature, in church, in places where I thought I’d feel something again, I do feel closer to reaching peace. I just haven’t been okay since you left. It’s the kind of ache that sits deep in your bones and doesn’t go away, even when everything else looks fine on the outside. I think at one point, I wanted to let people know I wasn’t okay so I could be left alone or feel understood, and other times I wish they didn’t know I’m unwell so they’d leave me alone. It’s weird isn’t it. I still don’t know what to do with grief. You would hug me so tightly when I mess up, and I feel like I need a hug right now but I can’t hug you anymore. I’ve been trying to be more honest about how I feel instead of keeping everything bottled up. To let things be instead of reasoning my feelings or worshipping the problem through overthinking. It’s a lot better now. Things feel more peaceful. I’m in more control of my emotions and I feel content with my life. So I focus on myself and my future that feels right for me. I want to hustle, to build wealth, to enjoy life the way I’ve always dreamed… but not at the cost of who I am. Not if it means forgetting what grounds me, or the people who make the days count. That a place is made by its people, not its things. That’s what you taught me, the legacy I’ll live by and honor.

It’s hard, but I think you’d be proud of me for that.

Through a little over a year of forgiving and burying what I could and couldn’t do, and slowly rebuilding it all back up, I’ve somehow changed everything about myself. Some of it intentionally, some of it not. I think grief has a way of rewiring you. Hopefully for the better, maybe. All I know is I have a very few handful of key priorities that keep me anchored. The people I love. The work that feels meaningful. The peace I chase. I hope you’d be proud of me for that too.

Outside of solid work, in writing, in books, in songs that feel like time folding in on itself, I feel so free. When everything around me gets quiet and nobody contacts me, I finally feel like maybe I can be okay. I don’t want to be contacted, don’t want to be out and about, don’t want to meet people, don’t want to be in touch. It’s so weird. I feel like Emma Chamberlain lolz.

So if I seem a little out of touch for a while, like I’m always dreaming or being idealistic, or spending too much time writing things down and avoiding everyone, it’s because that’s how I make it through. It’s the only way I know how to keep myself going.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a journalist. Like, actually. I’d sit in my room, typing in the dark like some tortured little gremlin. But I gave it all up for something safer, a stable career. You always knew that. You saw that dream before I even knew how big it was. And now, writing is kinda how I try to stay close to that version of me who still believed stories could fix things and wasn’t so tired all the time. It’s also how I feel close to you, Porpor, because you knew that dream and I want to keep chasing it for both of us. Or for you. Even if no one reads it, even if it goes literally nowhere, writing still makes me feel... okay-ish. And maybe that’s enough.

So I take time to write when I can. Little things, personal things, even things I don’t want to show people. Maybe I’m still trying to find the words you would’ve understood before anyone else did.

Maybe writing is the closest I get to your hugs now.

Oh and today I had a really good day so I miss you extra. So many cool things happened and I met so many amazing people. I hope you’re well, Porpor. How are you doing?

Love you always and wishing you infinite Milo drinksss and dot dot mee and kuih lapis up in heaven,

凱玲