Pricks, Google, and Ramadan

I just spent half an hour writing a post on how I hated selfish, greedy, pricks and how I wanted to go Dexter Morgan on a few people's asses... I then deleted the entire thing because I realized that acting polite to these people and then bitching about them behind their back is skank. Being nice to people I hate doesn't make me two-faced; it just means that I was raised with manners.

So it's 1:30 am and I just spent an hour googling shit like "endometrial cancer running in the family" and "chances of breast cancer". I'm fucking scared shitless that I am going to die of cancer. I know that I am going to die, and I know that I have no say in when and where, but I really don't want to die from cancer. 

I saw what my mother fought. I saw what she put up with for two and a half years. Quite honestly, I don't think I'm strong enough to handle it as well as she did. I feel like no matter what I do, my fate is sealed. "Well you have this cancer gene in you, and when you try to take steps to protect yourself, this gene will probably attack you in another form and more viciously." Wow, well thanks. That sounds like a bag of fucking sunshine. 

Oh well. I can only (think I) control a minimum amount of shit; everything else is in God's hands. 

On another note, Ramadan is around the corner. Woot woot. Big ups to the Man upstairs for making it easy to erase a year's sins with a month of dedication. I'm kind of super excited this year - I can actually read a bit of Arabic and I know how to pray now! What what! Plus, my Eid shalwar is super sexy! Lol. 

Zak's snoring away. I'm jealous that I don't have his sleeping habits. He can wake up at 10 am and be ready for a nap at 2 pm. Stupid Maste Kalander. 

Buying a shalwar was kind of difficult today. It made me think of mom and her ridiculous love of shalwars. 

Oif. 

A Motherless Me

After twenty six years of having my mother around to talk to, and to guide me, she is no longer here. Sometimes, I feel like nothing has changed and at other times, I feel like nothing is the same. It's only been a month since she died, and though it was a long time coming and we were all prepared for it, it kind of took us by shock.

For those who knew my mother, you probably remember her as the first one on the dance floor or as the woman who wouldn't let you leave without eating something. She was a good woman, and though she had her moments, she had a kind heart. 

My mother once travelled from Sri Lanka to America and when I asked her about her flight, she reported nothing out of the usual. It was the same 24+ hour journey with boring transits and never ending line of movies. A couple of months later, when she was back in Sri Lanka, a group of guys came to visit her. All in their 20s to 30s, I wondered how the heck they knew mom and what they were doing in my house. Turns out, this woman was in transit in Dubai and came across this bunch of random guys. They told her how they paid tons of cash to get a chance to work abroad and have no been stuck in the airport for days without food, since no one has picked them up. My mother then took this bunch to McDonald's and fed them, without ever knowing who they were or with no plan to ever see them again. Nonetheless, they came searching for her once they came back to Sri Lanka. 

On another occasion, I walked in on my mother on the phone. She was telling who ever was on the line how there was a terrible flu going around and how they should either visit a doctor or get some good medication. The conversation continued for a good ten minutes about local holidays and other randomness, and then she says "So the cab will be here soon?" She had been on the phone with the Taxi operator. The man was terribly sad when he heard that my mother passed away and to this day, refers to my address as "Sharifa miss ge gedera." (Miss Sharifa's home.) 

I miss the way we would lay for hours and chat. I miss the way she yelled at me for doing something stupid. 

I miss her.