Away (a poem post)
: a sensory-filled post with a new poem, a video, a song, and a new drawing (#10/24 new drawings for HopeMail)
HopeMail #134 | Twice a month on Fridays, I write and draw what’s on my mind lately about life, deriving insights from the ordinary mundane to the difficult days. This issue is the 10/24 new drawings for HopeMail. Counting down 14 more issues till we complete 24 new drawings in a year in October 2022. Happy to finally run out of drawing paper and have to buy new ones. It shows I have been drawing!
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I sometimes eat an orange during my workday break accompanied by YouTube videos it helps me to relax. I found a video it was eight and a half minutes. Ok, this is perfect I told myself. It’s animation light and easy. 0:25 aww, cute little girl/the orange peels lie messily in a pile 1:52 lovely story so far/this orange is sweet 2:58 then it hits. I remember her. The regrets of things I should have done. I inhaled sharply. An attempt to suck the tears back to my skull. Quick! Count to ten. Breathe! Count to ten. Often I do that when tears threatened. Distract yourself! look away Count to ten count to ten count to ten Don’t cry don’t cry do not cry My eyes hurt I remember her. The regrets of things I should not have done. Thinking back on the times I made all decisions Without asking Without seeking Without consulting Without taking into consideration how it’d affect her. Yet, she’s quietly supporting Was she waiting for me? I don’t know. I remember seeing her outside the car window as I drove off to my own life. away. Call me, she said. A mix of tenderness and sadness formed. I remember the pain of separation I remember telling my heart Don’t cry don’t cry do not cry I will keep in touch more Yeah, call more Come home more someday. I do love her. But I can’t outdo the love of a mother. My sweet, sweet mother Of whom I miss and will never hear her voice asking me to call her again. I remember her. My angel. I remember as I kissed her Her eyelashes, soft. Her eyelids, closed. as she breathed her last and left me to my own life. away.
It’s been ten years since I lost my mum. She was 57 years old. Over a decade, I have written poems of grief, loss, lessons, gratitude, and most of all, hope.
This year, 2022, I’m thinking of curating and putting the poems together into a book. Accompanied by my drawings. A memoir of sorts.
I wonder would doing it unearth wounds, unhealed? Grief, yet to go through and come through? What would it bring?
Who do you need to call or spend some time with?
Who’s your someday?
🎬 Let's Eat - Award-Winning Animated Short Film by Anamon Studios
This was the short film I watched that inspired the poem and this issue of HopeMail.
🎤 Lyrics: Come Back Home (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) by Max Loh and Katherine Ho
(Verse 1) I hold your laughter safe inside in my mind Sweet moments captured so I can rewind I’ll always have them so anywhere I fly I know you’ll be by my side (Verse 2) You lift me up when I am feeling small Up on your shoulders I become so tall And though you raise me high above it all I have no doubt that you’ll catch me if I fall (Chorus 1) You give me everything You see the best in me No matter where you go You’ll come back home (Verse 3) I’m only learning to say what’s in my heart So when you’re hurting I don’t know where to start And though the words are often hard to find We still have time to make things right (Chorus 2) You give me everything You see the best in me No matter where I go I’ll come back home
10/24 new drawings for HopeMail
Don’t Let Me Hold You Back
Sometimes, a greater love is to give someone the blessings to fly.
I believe that’s what my mum did for me.
I’m putting this drawing up for sale. It’s available as framed, unframed giclée print and original artwork.
24 new drawings for HopeMail project
I started the 24 new drawings for HopeMail project in November 2021. To do a new drawing every two weeks for this newsletter. It’s a way to give myself the momentum to keep drawing and keep learning the art. It’s also a way of bringing both my writing and drawing together, using them to tell stories and sharing them with you. This project will end in October 2022. I thank you for coming along with me on this journey so far. What’s next?… 🤷🏻♀️
Here’s a collage of the ten drawings to date.
Find out the story behind the drawings in my previous posts.
That’s all for now, folks. Thanks for reading and being here. I’ll see you in my next issue on April 1st, 2022. Feel free to write to me or leave a comment.
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