Sunday, December 11, 2011
Diary: Tree House
As I walk around Auckland, this tree house is nearest to the tree house I once made with my very good friend Brina.
Andrew 10th December 1989
Don’t let his life be in vain,
Do something even if you don’t feel like it.
It is a fine line between what reality was and what a dream was. My stress dreams and my reality were rolled into one. They were massive scary, tormenting nightmares. I was a wreck, I wasn’t sleeping, and I wasn’t eating. Even preparing a simple lunch was a chore. I didn’t eat any lunch as I only had Gabrielle at home. I lost a lot of weight and looked really slim but haggard. I didn’t care. I had given up on myself.
The weather was warming up. We have a big oak tree in the front section. Deborah wanted a tree house and had been pestering Chen Onn to make one for her. His procrastination infuriated me. I took the hammer and some planks of wood and proceeded to make it myself. I was stubborn and belligerent
I wasn’t going to wait for Chen Onn. It could be next summer if I depended on him. Brina came over, and we two women went hammering. The house was very crude but it served its purpose. To Deborah, it was the best tree house ever. She and Marisa and Simon had great fun. Deborah still remembers that tree house which her mum and Brina made. The kids laughed and enjoyed the house. Was I happy that I achieved something?
I sat on the stairs of our house crying. I made that tree house, Where was Andrew? I wanted Andrew to enjoy my tree house, to laugh with his sisters and his friends. I wanted Andrew to climb up and down the steps. God! I wanted him back. I cried sad, sorrowful tears. I cried raving, boiling, volcanic lava. I was angry, I was so angry. God! Why did you give him to me if you were going to take him back so quickly? I would rather you never gave him at all. My pain was so incapacitating. I held my hammer in my hand. I wanted to hit the wall. I needed to vent my anger. The house didn’t belong to us, and I couldn’t account to my landlord for the hole if I had bashed on the wall. Chen Onn would be very angry. So I visualized myself doing it, knock, knock, knock!
Deep in my heart, there is a hole. Some invisible being was hammering, and knocking and making the hole bigger and bigger. My heart was gushing with blood. How can my broken heart be whole again? Who can repair it?
Brina came from her house. She made two cups of piping hot tea. She just sat next to me. She knew that was the best thing to do. She didn’t have to say anything. Brina too had buried a son. She understood and she knew the pain. The hot tea scorched my lips, but the pain was nothing compared to the burning in my heart.
It is all very well for people to sing, “It is well with my soul,” These people have never been in turmoil. They have never worn my shoes. My soul had been crushed. If a mirror is cracked, no matter how you repair it, it will never be the same.