It’s called reality, but am I ever going to be ready?

I broke down in tears and cried like a little girl clinging desperately to her father, asking him not to leave. That girl suddenly came out. That little girl I was once was, apparently never left me.

He was talking about leaving and reminded me that he has left details and documents to my mother for my perusal. He always trusts me with all these. I, his firstborn daughter, also the one who inherits a lot of his traits. Being assertive, and always wanting to take charge.

My dad recently had open-heart surgery to fix a blocked artery. He just turned 68 this month. What was a seemingly harmless heart screening exercise, turned out to be his biggest nightmare. Despite all his efforts of staying fit, keeping healthy and caring for his body, he found out that he had 70% blockage at his major artery.

As I am writing this, my dad is recovering well in his ward in Institut Jantung Negara. He is in fact in the best hands the country can offer. I visited him today, and the moment I walked in I can see that he was in pain emotionally, feeling helpless that he could not move and have control over the things around him.

He asked me to ask the nurse for a urinal so that he would not have to bother them every time he needs to go for a pee. I saw tears forming quietly in the corners of his eyes. He gently rubbed it away.

My heart shattered into tiny little pieces. I have never seen him cry before. I contained myself and tried my best to be present for him.

And then it dawned on me.

We’re human, and we are frail and helpless.

My dad is still here, and he is, God willing, staying for more years to come with this new lease of life. But it rang a bell in me: That the day that my parents leave could probably happen sooner than how I want it to be.

The question is, am I really ready?

I guess no child would be.

I am turning 38 this year. Besides the fine lines and wrinkles, unhurriedly but unforgivingly forming on my facial features, I have been thinking a lot about the day when my parents eventually leave me.

It breaks my heart every time, and honestly, I dread it. I know it will eventually come, but amid my frequent contemplation and wonder, I forgot to accept that it is bound to happen. Am I at peace with this fact? Am I ever going to be?

Our parents will always be a huge chunk of our world. Regardless of the mistakes made, the undesirable upbringing, the occasional conflicts, misunderstood moments. At the end of the day, our parents are always this big part of you that makes you who you are.

And you wonder how your life would be when that huge chunk turns into a gaping hole in your whole being.

It’s pretty damn scary.

So how do I deal with this? As a person who always wants to be in control, the fact is this is never going to be mine to own.

I am sure that a big part of this is acceptance. Acceptance is a virtue. It is perhaps the biggest reminder that we are human beings created by a higher power, and we are not in any way have control of anything.

It is part of having faith and part of the irony that we are the most beautiful creature yet full of imperfections.

I pray that I am given the strength to accept. I’ll work on it.

And in the meantime, I am choosing to be present.