Photographs.

I was rummaging through everything last night looking for my passport. It's impossible for me to have lost it because the last time I saw it, it was in my room. How long was last time? about 3-4 years ago. My passport would have expired right about this year. This is so not happening right now. Of all the things to be swallowed by this house, it had to be my passport and it had to be at this particular time when I have finally planned a trip with my friends! I have about a month to ransack my whole house before the trip. Why now why??

Onward with the post, I'm not actually interested about ranting about my lost passport but about everything else that's lost and how we get reminded of it. The thing about lost things is that, we won't actually appreciate it as much as we could until we've lost it. This I'm sure is a very cliched overused statement, but undoubtedly true. It applies to material things and people as well.

While looking for my now very much appreciated lost passport I stumbled across old pictures and ended up spending around half an hour looking through each one of them. There were pictures in my Kampung during a 1998 riot. My dad was in the midst of it all and also some politicians there. I remember being there back then. We were told to stay inside. The thing is when you were 8 or 9, the world doesn't seem that big at all. It only revolved around a few familiar faces and places. The best part about it is that, nothing, not even the war can stop a little kid from fleeing with her imagination. Everything was peaceful and safe. Innocence and ignorance are the best of friends to a child, innit?

Then there were pictures of my parents before they got married and after having me and my sister. I know I've seen them a million times but last night I really saw the pictures. I look at my dad and there he was a charming and cocky young man,in his early twenties with his friends and gal pals with his ciggies. Then there's the recently employed man, taking pictures as a young lawyer, ever so confident in his robes talking in front of judges. There was a few pictures where he was at a party, acting out a scene. It was funny. My mom was well, she's a pretty hot stuff. Sadly the wasn't passed down to this writer. She seemed quiet and reserved but from the stories I've heard, she's not just another wallflower. My mom has this look that when you look at her, you won't really know how to approach her. She can look cold but is actually warm and caring. That bit is passed on, I guess. The after pictures shows a young married couple at karaoke lounges with friends or vacation pictures. Now comes the part where I say, we appreciate things or moments better when they are no longer with us. To some extent my parents are still who they were. Wiser, surely but tired now I guess. You won't see them at karaoke lounges or partying or vacationing away now because time's running out and work has taken over everything else. Money don't come easy these days and we learned that the slower way. I thank God that we still get to get by each day and still be comfortable.

Next comes the emotional parts. While photographs they capture those happy moments, freeze time and are able to bring back to life the past, they don't just bring back happy memories, they bring back, forgotten memories, all hopes and dreams back then and then that question of what happened? how did I get here? Photographs don't just capture moments, they encapsulate all sorts of emotions, takes us in with it. So even though they are still, unmoved, pictures do tell a thousand words because they speak to us personally and not in any way others can understand.

When I saw the pictures of my late grandmothers and my late grandfather, I miss them a lot. I wished they were still with me, see what I've achieved. Being younger you tend to dismiss these things, it didn't really matter that much. But nothing can tear me up inside than seeing pictures of my late sister. She was about 7 or 8 when she passed. It's sad to admit that I can't remember a complete event with her in it. I don't if I'm just too young to remember or I am actually traumatized by the loss, but I don't really remember my sister as well as I want to. This is the saddest part. I remember the times we fought over small things but I don't remember laughing together. The pictures I saw was full of laughter and joy. I didn't remember having those.

A few weeks earlier, an uncle of mine asked me question that I never dared ask myself. Have you ever thought what it would be like if your sister was still here? I don't actually, I never did. Whenever I tried, I just space out and I just block everything all together. There was never a what if to me because there's only a big never all over. There was no what if for something impossible so why bother thinking at all? The past just won't ever come back, not when it involves someone who has passed. So the only logical thing to do is move forward.

This is what shield me from every emotions I've had, I think. Looking at pictures of my sister, I realize now that, I wasn't tearing up because I missed her or because I had hoped to have a sister that I can tell my secrets to, share about boyfriends or go shopping with. I teared up because I didn't have that feeling. I didn't have a plan for the future for me and my sister. I didn't have anything at all. The picture was just a picture to me. Still, captured, frozen. Dead.