Does one thing affect the other?

A couple of days ago, some friends and I were discussing the situation when something bad happens it colours your perception to the whole experience, including totally other unrelated events that happen just before or after the bad experience.

Have I lost you? ;-)

It could be something more direct like Mummy C never wanting to eat the Caesar salad at Coffee Bean anymore after one meal gave you food poisoning. Same thing happened to me with Boston Creams L my favourite dunkin donut…..

But sometimes it can be totally unrelated, for example Miss Hoity Toity’s (hehehe sorry, she’s one of the sweetest & down to earth girls I know but we like teasing her with the name) doesn’t like massages anymore, because once after going for a massage she got sick afterwards. Totally unrelated but it coloured her perception.

It happens to me too, from something trivial like hating a particular perfume because I didn’t like the guy (weird right?) but there is one thing that has affected me deeply until now…..

Back in my university days (God that aeeeooonnnsss ago) I was involved in a project called Projek Kalsom under the auspices of UKEC. It was a 5 day camp held for Form 4 underprivileged children. It was organised and conducted entirely by a bunch of university students who shared the same passion and drive to make a difference in this world (or rather we were still pretty naïve back then ;-)

I loved it! My first Projek Kalsom was in Dungun, Terengganu. It was also a week of self-revelation for me, to realise just how lucky I am in this world and how many things I take for granted. The kids were wonderful and they really had an effect on me. I cried buckets when it was time to leave. The friendships I’ve made during the camp have also endured, some of us are still friends until today almost 10 years on.

I loved it so much, I pledged to continue on with it and became a member of the organising committee for the following Projek Kalsom. It was in Melaka and great fun!

The following year, I decided to join Projek Kalsom again this time in Johor Bharu. I had just recently graduated from university and was basically bumming around until I start my CLP classes (Certificate Legal Practice – the professional qualification to enable me to practice as an advocate and solicitor in Malaysia) (err just in case anyone was wondering, I’m no longer a lawyer).

Anyway, it was also great fun, met up with my old friends. Met a wonderful bunch of kids and got along great with them.

On our last night a group of us decided to hang out on the school grounds (the benefits of being the facilitator the “rules” don’t apply to you hehehe), we ended up chit chatting until 6 am in the morning!

I returned to my room to find several missed calls from my phone as well as a voice mail from my mother. Basically she said my grandmother suffered a stroke and is in the hospital.

I was stunned, and I didn’t know what to think. I was scared, worried, depressed… a million of emotions were going through me at once.
I dearly loved my grandmother, she was almost like a mother to me. I had lived with my grandparents when I was a child for a while (when my parents were studying in US), and I was sent to my grandparents house every day while my parents were at work. As we grew older, I started spending every weekends at their house. I’d like to think they also had played a pivotal role in my upbringing (e.g. when I was a child if I did something wrong, not only would I get an earful from my parents but also my grandparents, uncles and aunts who all felt they were also the ones who helped raised – sometimes not fun I tell you! hehehe)

My grandmother used to say I was her favourite grandchild because I was the one who “came back” i.e. I genuinely loved going to their house and spending time with them. My parents, although I have no doubt of their love for me, are not the most affectionate people in the world. My grandparents on the other hand were complete opposites, my grandmother was especially loving and affectionate.

And I felt like I was far away, we were only supposed to leave at 2pm that day (we had taken a bus down) and the trip was supposed to take about 4-5 hours.
I got through the day, said goodbye to my “adik-adiks” but it was mainly a blur, got through the bus ride home. My father was waiting for me, the first thing he said to me was “things don’t look good”.

We went straight to the hospital, and by the time I arrived she had fallen into a coma. They said she was lucid and coherent after her stroke, able to hold conversations but fell into a coma during the day. I must have cried the whole night, I just couldn’t stop. The following week she remained in a coma the whole entire week, I was powerless to do anything except be by her side reciting the doas or simply having a conversation with her. My aunt comforted me saying, she probably can hear you it doesn’t hurt to try. One night at 4 am we got a call from my uncle, who told us to come to the hospital straight away. He didn’t need to say it, but we knew she had passed on without ever regaining consciousness.

I never got to say goodbye, and the one thing that kept running through my mind was that if I wasn’t at Johor Bharu doing the Projek Kalsom I would have been able to say goodbye. And I’ve felt guilty ever since, I should have been there with her. Me, her favourite grandchild, I should have been there…. And I felt cheated because I never got to say goodbye to my grandmother once last time. I never got to say goodbye…….

I know I know, one thing had nothing to do with the other. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault, not me, not the Projek Kalsom, nothing. Sudah ditakdirkan. But that’s my head making those rational statements, my heart says an entirely different thing. There were a thousand if only’s going through my mind.

And I felt such an unreasonable resentment for going to Johor Bharu, and the Projek by association. Again, I know it’s completely idiotic but I am only human.

Fast forward a couple of years, some of the same people who organised the original Projek Kalsom organised a new type of Project called Projek Tekad. As everyone now is older and is working, they re-jigged the concept and it is now down over a weekend instead of a 5 day period. But the concept and even some of the modules was the same. My friends from the original Projek Kalsom had invited me to join in, I was even part of the committee for the first project. When I went, it was fun and admittedly I had a great time but I had the same nagging feelings of resentment inside. It tried to suppress it but it was there, and the slightly faded away feelings of losing my grandmother came flooding back. Again, my head is saying it’s not the same thing and it was so silly to feel this way but my heart was undergoing an entirely different thing. I got through the project, but I felt disturbed. I felt out of sorts, and slightly depressed……

It was weird, and I didn’t think I was going to be affected by it after all these years. And AGAIN it doesn’t make sense, it’s a completely different thing. And one thing had nothing to do with the other. But being there brought back memories. Memories that I hate having being drudged up.

So after that, I’ve stopped going. I never signed up for the subsequent projects although asked by some friends (although there has been only one more so far with more in the pipeline). I felt I really didn’t feel like going through the emotions again……

But I guess sometime, no matter how hard you try to rationalise things sometimes your heart doesn’t listen. And no matter how silly the reason might be, your heart feels what it wants to feel…. So in this case I can’t go for Projek Tekad (or probably any other similar ventures) because it brings back depressing memories of not being able to say goodbye and not being there for her……