Losing my memory

When I was a little girl, my dad used to call me something. I had a nickname that only he used, a special term of endearment. A year after he died, I asked my mom what it was because I couldn't, for the life in me, remember. She looked at me in a strange way because it was a weird question, completely out of the blue, and told me. Two years later, I am ashamed to admit that I've forgotten again. That's the thing with my memory--it fails me. Especially when I try to grasp something too hard.

It has just been a few years since he passed away but I still don't remember my time with him that well, it's fading so fast. And sometimes that freaks me out. While doing a story for Better Homes and Gardens on Father's Day, I talked to people who had to grow up without their biological father (I always get sad stories), and it was then it hit me that I'm growing old without mine. I was still in college when I lost him, so he never got see me working for a job, driving my car, travelling for work, and basically turn into the spoiled woman (promotion from spoiled brat) that I am today. It kind of sucks because I know for a fact that he was the proudest of me (sorry bro, I win). And to make things worse, the past is being washed off too, like a name on the beach. 

So this one is for you, Dad, Pops, Papa. I remember I called you hundreds of names, I'm cool like that. This is my time capsule for you. May be some years down the line when I'm all rich and successful, I'll read this (I'll be a better writer by then, I promise), and think to myself, "Oh yes! I blogged about my dad once. How stupid of me, right pops?" And then I'll write another post on how foolish this 'personal diary on a public platform' business really is. May be this way, I'll preserve a part of it, a part of us, however small. 

Till then, I'll try to remember what that pet name was. Or, I can ask mom, but she already thinks I'm getting old. Can't let her think my best years are behind me, can we? 

Random Musings

Write. Write a novel—not a series, not even a big one, just one story you want to share. Invest everything you have, everything you are, and create a masterpiece you would be proud of. And in between, find time to have some chocolates.

Dream. Dream big, and never stop dreaming. Open a book café, a place where you’d love to go to have a cup of Joe, and talk about books with people who are there for the same reason.

Find. Find yourself again and again. Don’t look at others to serve you happiness on a plate, seek your own. Smile big and smile with all your heart. Find reasons to be happy, even when the situation is dire.

Travel. Explore the world, but start with your own country. See what the hype is about. Learn about different cultures and lifestyles but don’t judge.  

Do. Do as your heart desires. Do as your mind demands. Be good, but not a saint. Be nice, but not to everyone. Think about yourself, but don’t hurt others. Be just, be fair, be honest, be assertive.

Think. Think before you speak. Don’t think too much and let yourself go. Make mistakes, learn from them, and forgive yourself.

Believe. Believe in yourself. Believe in people, but not too much. Don’t give your trust for free. Believe in something bigger than all of us. Find a cause and do something, however little, to support it. Don’t lose hope.

Respect. Respect yourself. Respect those who are worthy of it.

Celebrate. Celebrate live. All the crappy moments shall pass. All the happy moments will remind you that there is no better time to be alive.