we’re finally moving back to yogya. FOR GOOD. maybe just occasional trip to jakarta due to some short term work/job. we’re doing our final packing, sorting stuff to chuck out, to keep and to garage sale. i’m still unsure whether we can manage to carry things to yogya, if it’s not in the end of the month then it has to wait next month or as late as december. oh well, that’s just the stuff. we’re packing ourselves by the end of the month, right after lebaran holiday.
it would be a year tomorrow since my father passed away. three years for my mother on the 27th last month. it’s weird you know living in your parents house again when they’re not in it again. it brings all the memories and feelings, most of them are very much made you feeling uneasy, because they’re gone physically, but sometime you know they’re there.
it is also weird to live in this city again the past few years (most of it a bit unwillingly). i’ve been away from bogor since i was fifteen years old. i was back here in the end of 2000, but mostly spend my time working and socializing in jakarta. so i don’t really live here anymore despite for just seeing my parents and family. bogor had change so much. it has definitely become hotter, more crazy traffic, more expensive and yes, more stranger than ever.
the only places in bogor that i didn’t felt weird are the botanical garden and the gunung salak area. i still love those places with all my heart. those were just the things i would missed about this city and its memories.
i don’t feel much attachment with this city then with yogya for example, i even love and hate jakarta more if i had to tell the truth. i spend fourteen years of my early days here. i was not born here (though i’m too not attached with the place where i was born either). then i spend the last maybe 10 months of my small family life here, plus sort of living with my brother again.
i might just recalling my memories while picking up pieces of it throughout all my parents stuff (throughout their entire life together) and also my stuff found while we’re packing them. i don’t know, i guess i’m also packing part of my life here somehow. packing my parent’s life too in that matter, carrying some of it if i can manage. it’s still totally weird you know being a parent now and your parents aren’t there to see it.
i guess i’m from the beginning are leading a very different lives, values compare to my parents. i still hesitate to write any form of memoir about them. i need more time. i need to settle my feelings. it’s still not easy.
us are the one that is still living are the one who’s dealing with all these now. it’s complicated.
it’s one of those events in your life that just stop you and shut you up sometimes. it makes you think, well, rethink about your life and what you’re doing.
it make you…slow down, for that matter.
i felt i was living too fast and going to burn out but i cannot stop it or maybe i was waiting for someone or something to stop me. and BAM, it just happen in front of my face. it made me think about things that really matters to me. it made me feel what i was really feeling deep down inside. to see what was really missing.
the death of my parents did made me feel that, especially starting with my mom’s. in the most simplest way: i missed them, i forgive them, i forgive myself and i love them the way they are. and i’m learning to let all of it go…
it’s just part of my way of saying goodbye too with this city, its memories and moving on. and i’m putting this candle for them, for the name that they have given me: DIAN
it is what they hope for and made me promise myself that i would be myself still after i leave this town. to be a dian everywhere i go.