I don’t feel like answering the question most of the time. I know that people when meant well when they asked how I am. But, I just don’t know how to respond to them. I remember replying by saying, “Better.” That’s it. But deep down inside me, I am wounded, hurt and broken. That was the first week. In the second week, my feelings were up and down. So, I replied, “Up and down.” Now, I have a standard answer for all:
I still cry everyday. There are times that I couldn’t accept and let go. I broke down when Seng Chor dismantled the baby cot last Saturday. Is she really gone? Yes. Must we keep the cot away? Yes. Why can’t we leave it there and wait for her to come back? No, she’s gone. She’s gone. It was so painful.
It did not console me when people say that she’s with God. Nicholas Wolterstorff’s book on Lament for a Son has helped me to articulate my pain. Like him, it did not console me to be reminded of the hope of resurrection. Does it mean that I grieve as one who has no hope? No, I know that I will see her again one day. Yet Jemimah is gone, she was here and now she is gone; now I cannot hold her, now I cannot see her, now I cannot kiss her, now I cannot hug her, now I cannot look into her eyes and say that I love her. That is my grief – my sorrow. The hope does not put Jemimah back in my arms now. What consolation can there be other than having her back now?