Tonight, after the rain had just passed, I found myself standing by the court, watching my friends play badminton and basketball. The air felt fresh, as if the world had been cleansed, and I couldn’t help but wonder how life has a way of taking you to places you’d never imagined, and sometimes never wanted to go.
As I stood there, unable to sit still, I realised something, I am quite happy with how I’m living my life now, how I see the world, and how I’ve learned to accept the things that happen to me. For the first time in a long while, I could say I’m content with where I am. Life has always been a tough teacher, delivering lessons in the hardest ways. It doesn’t sugarcoat its lessons, nor does it give you time to prepare for them.
It has been almost 60 days since Ibu left me. I still find that number hard to believe. Two months without her feels like a lifetime, yet it also feels like no time at all. At first, I thought I’d never smile again. The grief felt endless, the void impossible to fill. But somehow, here I am, laughing a lot more than I expected, and smiling has become my way of getting through the days, even when my heart feels heavy. Still, I can’t deny how much certain events this year have affected me on a deeply personal level, in ways most people wouldn’t notice.
Sometimes, it feels as though my life is slowly drifting away from what I want, what I expected, and perhaps even what others expect from me. It’s unsettling. There are moments when I wish I could disappear, start fresh, and rewrite my story as if I’d been given a second chance. I imagine a new life, a blank slate where the world feels right again. But then I ask myself: could I really face all that life throws at me without Ibu here, watching over me? Her absence feels so different from anything I’ve ever experienced.
Growing up, I always pushed myself to the limit, striving to achieve as much as I could all for Ibu. Everything I did, every goal I chased, was for her. She was my motivation, my reason to keep going. But now that she’s gone, I’m beginning to question whether my vision still aligns with what I truly want. Maybe it’s time to start doing things for myself instead of for others, to see how life might change when I live for my own happiness. Maybe I need to let go of the pressure to meet expectations that aren’t mine.
Despite everything, I am grateful. Grateful for the challenges I’ve faced, for the lessons I’ve learned, and for the resilience I didn’t know I had. I wish I could truly see the moments that have shaped me, but for now, I’ll hold onto the belief that they’re there, even if I can’t quite grasp them yet. I’ve realised that life doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It moves forward, and you either let it pull you along or you choose to walk with it.
The rain tonight seemed like a metaphor for my life. It came, it washed over everything, and then it left, leaving the world glistening and new. Maybe that’s how I need to see my own journey. I hope that, in time, my heart will feel the same. For now, I’ll keep going, grateful for the past, hopeful for the future, and ready to embrace whatever the next chapter holds.
Life hasn’t been easy, and it probably never will be. Tonight, after the rain, I’m holding onto the hope that brighter days are ahead.
s o y a w r i t e s 