Entry 01.06.2022, 3:22 a.m.

I'll be honest, writing at 3 o'clock in the morning isn't what I thought I'd be doing post-exams. But my brain has decided that sleep is not an option for me today, so I'm going to write into the void. It is what it is, no point in stressing.

This ‘some things I just don't have control over’ attitude is a newfound perspective of mine. Well, it depends on whether you think two years is still considered to be ‘recent’, but anyways, it's a mantra I’ve been carrying since my parents died from Covid complications in April 2020.

Sure, some of you may remember the first lockdown fondly, when you were basking in the sun with your family or trying to be patient with your technologically inept grandparents. It was a weird time but you were all together. For others, we were drowning in grief and trying to figure out what the hell probate was, and whether or not our deceased loved ones were considered to be domiciled in this country for the all-important tax purposes.

I'm not sulking, I promise. I'm just jealous.

Looking back, I've come to the conclusion that when I rammed head-first into the ‘bargaining’ stage of the so-called ‘Five stages of grief’, I became rather delusional. I was so desperate to reach to the other side to bring them back because I didn't want to adapt to my new lonely life. But the bank that they were standing on was too far away and I just couldn't get there. The ground beneath me felt so unstable and my balance was faltering. I had all the willpower but no strength, which I think was all drained when their life support machines were removed. Oh how I wished the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice was true. I still do not fear Death and I am willing to play its games. Though I reckon I could've resisted the temptation and kept my eyes forward. I would've done anything and everything, just like they did for me for 19 years.

In Chinese culture, some believe that the souls of the dead need to pass three tests in order to be reincarnated into the next life. The first involves crossing the ‘Bridge of Helplessness’, where the good will make it to the other shore whilst the evil falls and drowns in the water below. I'm pretty sure my parents would've passed this and the subsequent tests. But who knows? They might have hid some pretty juicy secrets from me.

I had a dream where I saw them on that bridge and I screamed my lungs out. No sound came out and the silence was deafening. I feel like this is a very cliché dream to have when dealing with loss. However, its ending provided me with an odd sense of closure. They somehow sensed that I was there, turned around and just smiled. I've never been a ‘glass-half-full’ type of person, but I interpreted that as them giving me the courage and reassurance to keep going. We'll always have that unspoken connection and tethering, even if they're no longer here.

Yes, I know it’s incredibly cringey but that's all I can hold onto.

Anyways, I knew that there was literally nothing I could do to change this whole situation because, believe it or not, you can't change nature's course and bring back the dead. I've learnt to come to terms with my parents’ death and move forward with my life. I'm happy to say that I've completed my biology degree (whilst getting very triggered in the process because the department lovingly decided to deliver a whole lecture series on Covid-19) and secured a postgraduate opportunity. 

Now this last part of my little journey of growth is personally controversial. It'll never be lost on me that I only managed to secure this opportunity because I reached out to research labs In June 2020 when I was desperate to do something other than digging through my late parents’ files. Two principal investigators kindly took me under their wings and from there my scientific experience and network grew. Only with this bulked-up research profile, was I able to confidently seek out my future steps.

Am I glad that my parents died when they did? Hell no. But would all of this progress in my sprouting academic career have happened if they hadn't died? Probably not. I thought my parents would be here to guide me across the meanders in life as I enter ‘proper’ adulthood but it seems that the universe had other plans – they had begun to build a bridge for me but now I need to continue to engineer it myself. And the building blocks? They are the experiences I've had to unexpectedly go through, both the good and the bad. Some may lead to faults and cracks in the structure, but hey, self-healing concrete is now a thing, so I'm sure I will be just fine.