The Invincible Summer Within

Fortunately, I’m feeling better already. I never realized how a one-hour call from my mother and sisters and a bulk of incoming mails from friends can cure the illness of my heart.

Being my grandfather’s companion is somewhat of a curse to me; for, I’m sure, whatever happens to him—worse if he dies—I’d surely be the first witness and would definitely receive all the guilt and blame, as if I can do something especially that he’s already 89.

I no longer sleep well these days, for I am always afraid that my grandfather might die in his sleep. His mere deep sigh or softest snore can send my heart pounding.

I’m really glad I have an access to the Internet, and I have so many friends as well as I have my family with whom to exchange e-mails; for if not, I can’t imagine as to what extent repression and suppression can damage my mind.

Sometimes, even the potency of my literary mind cannot defeat my woes. I’m wary for these incidents have been causing my pen to blot frequently these days. Luckily, however, thoughts of home and memories of my youth as well as words of care from my family and friends prevent my literary hearth from totally burning out.

But worry not! I’m fine now. I was really moved by the concern and response of people who regard me. Now, I feel kind of embarrassed for letting most of my friends and loved ones read my throes—for instead of encouraging all of them to go on living despite the harshness of Life and to think of Canada as a land of golden opportunities, here I am complaining and whining as if I'm unluckier than the poorest poor.

But what can I do? Like everybody else, I too become fragile and despondent once in a while, especially when despair, loneliness, and solitariness seem to be ganging up on me.

I may be feeling better now—but the resentment for the few who couldn't understand me will surely be nestling in my heart for quite some time. All I could hope for is that something positive may hatch of it.

Nevertheless, early Spring in Canada is getting lovelier by the day—the weather is inviting and the gardens in the neighborhood are again astounding. Flowers are proud. Leafs are sleek. Perhaps it’s just me—and my current mood.

I’m hoping nonetheless that the forthcoming Summer will equilibrate the intensity and apathy of the cold Spring breeze.

I hope that my family and friends continue to remind me of the invincible Summer I discovered within me in the coldest and gloomiest nights of last Winter here in Canada.

“In the depths of Winter I finally learned that
within me there lay an invincible Summer.”—Albert Camus

- 11:50 p.m., May 5, 2004, Wednesday; Surrey, British Columbia, Canada
(While listening to "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers
[Hot Fuss; 2004, Island/Def])