Fringe jacket from Bo Parcon
Pants from Don Protasio
Hoodie from Kaisser
Boots from Dr. Martens
Worship Choker from OS
all photos from Edric Chen (taken early this year)
This week was probably the very first Holy Week that I didn't go to church at all. Today's also the very first Easter Sunday that I didn't go to church.
I never missed a single Sunday School when I was a kid. Even after I turned 18, I remember I'd always be present in church ever Sunday. It's not by choice, though. All my relatives are hardcore Christians. I used to live with my Grandparents when my Mom was still single. Even after my Mom married again, surprisingly my Grandparents were also following us wherever we go unintentionally. I was extremely close to them, sometimes even closer than my parents. My Grandparents had been in the ministry almost all their lives. My Grandpa had been a pastor/reverent in more than 10 different churches nationwide. They moved from one city/province to another; letting God bring them wherever they were destined to go. After his retirement as a pastor, he was still in the ministry by being a pastor that preaches over the radio. His voice was very famous to different cities and provinces nationwide. Of course, my Grandma was always there to support him.
There came the time when my Grandparents were ready to retire. They had been saving for a house and lot for more than 10 years, and finally it was finished and all paid for. They were ready to rest. Before they left that week, my Mom (my parents used to operate a Christian radio station that produces programs being sent nationwide) gave him a lot of things to finish so he could leave the radio and sign off smoothly. Within that week, my Grandpa worked very very hard to write/translate and record all the sermons needed. At the end of the week (Saturday), he started throwing up. He was so dizzy reading and writing almost the whole day. I and my Grandma brought him to the hospital. We thought he'd be okay. He seemed like he was okay. The next day (Sunday at around 4 AM), he passed away. That was 2007. My Grandpa was around 65 or 66.
I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to blame God. But at the end of the day, there's really no one to blame.
Now, my Grandma is alone in their so-called mansion (as how my Grandpa termed it) without anyone to share it with. I find it so sad that she couldn't enjoy the house they saved for for a decade of hard work.
Now, I find myself questioning a lot of things. I'm questioning religion. I'm questioning Christianity. I'm questioning God and his existence.
Why would this "God" whom my Grandparents served for nearly their entire life allow this to happen? Why wouldn't he give them at least the rest they deserved and prayed for after working so hard for him? My innate rebellious spirit just grew stronger.
I stopped believing. Not that I'm following the trend of atheism and illuminati (thanks to Lady GaGa and his monsters), but because I honestly don't think someone really cares after everything I've been through.
Now that's it's Easter, everyone's celebrating the resurrection of Jesus after being dead for three days. I woke up this morning missing my Mom and my Grandma. They normally wake up early on Sunday, especially Easter Sunday, to prepare for church. I honestly have to say I miss it, but not going to church but being with them in the church. I'm currently overcome by a very high nostalgia of my childhood sundays. I think I'm gonna call my Mom right after I finish this post.
This story is probably my most ultimate heartbreak. I want to share it in my blog because I feel like it's something very personal that I need to write about.