Love (Life in a Human Shell #3)
Part 3 of Life in a Human Shell: Love.
“What is love?”
I have found myself asking this exact question several times throughout my life. Sometimes, when I’m having a good time; sometimes, when I’m not.
By the way, it is 11:59 p.m. right now as I’m typing this. Tick, tock. It just turned 12:00 a.m. A new day has come.
Time is a weird concept, isn’t it?
But is love.. time? Maybe it is.
Like how my father used to take his time to pick me up from school in the middle of his busy days. He would always pick me up from elementary school on his motorcycle. “Peluk Papa ya, Sal”, he would say, worried that I might fall from the bike if I didn’t hold on to him. I would do exactly that. My little arms wrapped around him, sometimes while I sang my heart out throughout the ride home. Then, in no time, we would arrive home safely, just in time for lunch. He would go back to work afterwards. Each day, it was the same. It was a routine.
Now, that being said, is love a routine? Maybe it is.
Like how my father used to remind me to finish my dinner. I despised having dinner (or any meal, for that matter), and I would sometimes get scolded by my mother for that. However, my father was persistent. He would rarely scold me for it, but every day he would say things like “Habiskan nasinya, Sal” or “Minum susunya, Sal”. It became a routine for him. Sometimes I would end up finishing everything, sometimes not, and in that case there would be times that he would scold me, too. It rarely happened so I would feel uneasy for days when it did, and when I finally worked up the courage to apologize, I would always cry doing it. My father, on the other hand, would always calm me down and reassure me that it was fine.
So, is love reassurance? Maybe it is.
Like how my father used to tell me that I would be okay. I used to bottle up feelings instead of processing them because I wanted to appear “strong” (it is a middle child thing, trust me) and most of the time I would end up being overwhelmed. Each time, he would tell me all the things I needed to hear, walk with me through the mess, share his thoughts and advice, and I would believe him. “Nggak apa-apa, nya, itu. Biasa, nya, itu”, he would say with his very distinctive accent. Whenever he told me it would be fine, I just knew it would. Now that I’m older, I have been learning to process the relatively negative feelings, and I think I am much better at it than I used to be. All thanks to him for allowing me to feel bad emotions and for navigating through my problems with me.
“What is love?” I have found myself asking this exact question again today. If love is all of those things combined, I think I have my question answered. I was loved.
I wrote this as a tribute to my late father. Today would have been his 64th birthday. He was the best father to me and my sisters, the best husband to my mother, the best friend to his peers and colleagues, and the best lecturer to his students. He was the best and he loved me, which I am thankful for. I love you, Dad. Happy birthday!
Life in a Human Shell is a series; it is a new chapter in my writing journey, in which I will be expressing the complexity of human emotions from my own perspective. There will be several parts to this series, enjoy!
Read Part 1 of Life in a Human Shell: Hurt here:
Read Part 2 of Life in a Human Shell: At Ease here:
