Bridges and a Funeral (Part 1 of 2)

She has been fighting cancer for 3 years. Lymphoma. Her health was a rollercoaster ride for all of us. One day doctors and lab results tell us she's getting better, then some months after, she's back in chemo and radiation.

Although felt and showed differently, I know my sister's passing was a shock to all of us. I used to think that when you get used to having a sick relative for so long, the time that they succumb to their illnesses would have been the time that you've subconsciously (or consciously) prepared for halfway their sick lives.

I guess reality really is a lot of shades darker than theory. You always think you know how a certain situation would turnout because you have ran them through a thousand times in your head with logical simulations. But it catches you by the tail when it actually happens because you lack one important data. Emotion. Actual emotion. And kicking them out from the equation would throw your chart way off because, well, you don't really know how you would exactly react on things until they're in front of you. Just like how the old saying goes.

Not crying when I learned about my sister's death made me shame myself but I knew it was not the case when I took it all in during the wake. Well, okay, I didn't really cry. I just got teary eyed (the worst would be a tear nearly escaping my lower eyelashes).
I realized I was rejecting the idea. I kept my sadness in check. Breathing deeply and blinking fast whenever emotions are about to flood, tears start to well up and lumps start to block my throat. That was the part of me who didn't want to bee seen as less than a man by crying and sobbing. Especially when all the clan have gathered on that occasion. I was purposely preventing my thoughts into venturing deeper in my heart to fish out emotions. I kept it in the shallows of just knowing the facts. My sister died. We mourn. We socialize.