Till We Meet Again, Caroline

Dear Caroline,

The three little toy dogs from you sat nicely on top of my computer. My blazer and the office drawer smelled like the potpourri sachets that you gave me for my birthday. It is funny how those last gifts are the ones that somehow stayed with me. We kept all your letters and greeting cards, and I still kept the necklaces that you made for me when we were first introduced to each other, but those last gifts accompanied me in daily basis. What were you thinking when you made it? Did you know your time has almost come? What thoughts did you have when you made the potpourri? Alas, I will never know.

I said "Alas", but I'm not even sure that you can answer it yourself. What I am certain, what I remember, is the memory of you presenting the gift to me. I was so proud of you, Caroline. The potpourri looked really nice and smelled subtle yet wonderful. And most importantly, you gave it to me with care for my birthday. That moment I felt like everything is going to be just fine. It was a tipping point for both you and me. We had our ups and downs, but that moment I knew it's going to be smooth sailing for both of us. Then you passed away a few weeks later. Just like that.

I never really knew you, Caroline. Except for the bits and pieces people told about you or what your son had shared with me, I barely knew you. But if, if people's reaction to someone else's death is a true reflection of who the deceased really was, then you are really something special. You are truly loved. 

We went to your church to attend the mass on your behalf. Everybody was smiling and was happy when they know we were your children. At that time they didn't know you've passed away. The mass was fun, joyful, meaningful. We were so glad to be there, to know that you were surrounded by these good people. Little did they know that the sermon that day about letting go of possession would come true. They have lost a member and a friend. A son has lost a mother. Family parted once again by the hand of death. And we all need to learn to let go. 

When we break the news, Caroline, the whole congregation fell into a deep hush. Father Richard, your priest, sat in disbelief and sadness was palpable in his face, in everyone's face. Help was asked and offered, and we manage to conclude the logistical details in record time. You are loved. I won't say "were", because they still love you. They still care about you. And when we went to your house your neighbour greeted us warmly and again, help was offered. Your son and I keep wondering why, why were you taken away from us when it seemed so many people here on earth love and care about you? But then again, maybe God loves you even more and that's all there is to it.

As always, there are many "Ifs" and "I wish" from people who love you; the all-too-common feeling of regret for not doing more, as if negotiation would bring you back. It wont. Death is not for the deceased, it is for the living. The dark shroud of death did not descend on you, it descended on us, the survivors; blinding us with grief, maddening us with the unknown answers, stupefied us with fear and loss. Even I who barely knew you felt a piece of myself missing. I felt alone and vulnerable knowing you will not be here anymore, knowing that a person that sincerely care about me is gone. But you won't come back. All the 'ifs' and 'I wish' are nothing. It is time for us to let you go.

I don't want to dwell on your death, Caroline. You deserve so much more. Let us celebrate your life instead. The pretty woman you once were, the kind soul you once had, all your dreams and hopes and passions. I want to remember you as the gorgeous young woman laughing gaily on a sailboat in one of your old pictures. I want to remember you as the doting grandmother that sat elegantly on your sofa, offering us cheese and pepperoni and olives. I want to remember us as the happy family that sat together eating breakfast after the thanksgiving day: you and your son and your granddaughter and I. 

If anything, I only need to look at your son to remember and cherish you. He was kind, he was caring, he was adventurous and inquisitive. Traits are passed with genes, but personality is taught and/or copied from the ones closest to them. And yes, his beautiful soul is a mirror of your own soul. I can look at your son and his children and see you through them, they are your legacy. How I wish more people could see this before you passed away, to see who you really are! Alas, here I go again denying and negotiating. How do I know that people don't already see your beautiful soul? This "I wish" wont change anything anyway. Had you still be alive we will still be living in oblivion because we never realize what we've got until it's gone. The boon of man.

Your ashes will rest very soon in that peaceful patch of land at your church. But even then the grief will not be fully eradicated from the heart of the people who loved you. Time heals what reason cannot. And to some, it will be a long and painful journey. Yet we rejoice to think that your trial is gone. No more sadness or grief, no more pain or anguish, no more loneliness for you Caroline. You are free. We will shed our tears now, we will be drawn and drowned in grief now, but when we are ready we will smile again. And we know you will smile with us.

Rest in peace, dearest Caroline. Till we meet again.

The Day The Glass Slippers Break

Today I cried. It was not the sad, little whimpering cry that griefs you. It was not the lengthy sobs that breaks your heart. It was a full blown cry, cried from the top of my lungs with the intensity that will disturb you. A cry that will unnerves you, that will shatter your soul. It was a pained cry of love that is lost and hope that is destroyed.

To some, I was as bright as the sunshine. Always smiling, always giving out a helping hand. A rare post in Facebook I made about how sad I am, regardless how cryptic it was, will definitely garnered comments. My latest feel-good post about myself garnered tons of likes and comments. People actually care about me. People actually smiled at me and I have rarely seen hostility towards me, even in Los Angeles. I am loved by all, by God, by world. And in return, I love them all too. Yet the only thing I wanted the most is the one thing that I cannot get.

I have always dreamed about acceptance. Being nice is great, you get to be a part of somebody's life, in a nice way. Yet from my end, it also means that I don't exactly have someone that fully shared his life with me, and vice versa. I wanted my own special someone. Someone who will accept me for who I am, and can see me past the baggage that I carry: the low self-confidence that I have in regards to my look, and the curse of being 'a nice friend'. Nice enough to keep around, but not striking enough to be kept forever and jealously guarded against others. I wanted someone that wanted me.

My husband called it co-dependence. That I am too scared to live by myself. Yet I always wonder, is it wrong to want to love someone and be loved back?

He was my dream come true. I showered him with attention, spoiled him with love. Flowers on special days, special gifts and surprises now and then, always striving to make his life comfortable. It is not hard to see how much I adore him. And yes, he loved me too. Yet the love slowly wanes. Throughout the short time we're together, I can see his interest in me fade like the spring that turned into winter. I was there, a comfort for him, but not an apple in his eyes anymore. I don't even know what he sees in me anymore, but judging from the fights we have, apparently not much.

To sums up some of his opinion on me: I am a disgrace for sleeping so casually (before I even met him) with a man that has ball-bearing in his penis, and with a known American playboy that prey on the women in my hometown; I disappointed him for doing nothing for the first two years I moved to US; I am stupid, selfish, and have no understanding in life of whatsoever because I came from a simple country and have not experience the things he experienced like divorced, owned and lost a house, travel to a few countries, and having kids.

To every friends that I have, I am usually looked with the highest regards. And for a good reason too, because I will strive for their happiness. I am smart, witty, fun, kind. Yet within my apartment, I am just a stupid woman that doesn't worth a single respect. There is love, sure. But it was given only when he wants to. The thought that I too need love was absurd, because haven't he gave me enough by taking me to US and allow me to leech off of him for the last 2 years? I should be more considerate of him. After all, I didn't do anything for the family. At least, that's how it seemed to be, even though the joy on his children's face whenever they saw me tells different story. 

The fights, the insults, the degrading replies are not new. I have experienced it since we started dating. The lost of love in his eyes, however, was too much to bear. It is the realization that I will never be good enough for hin that broke me down, the realization that my love, my effort had been counted for nothing. It was the finality when you tried to fix your relationship, and all you get was "Well, I have felt disconnected and disappointed in you since day one when you told me you fucked the guy you met online, the one with balls in his penis."

Not only did it happen way before I met him, I also given him that information because he asked for it. Anything I say will and has been used against me.

After today's fight, I packed my backpack with a blanket, a change of clothes for tomorrow's work, and some snacks. I was ready to spend the night, and the remainder of the nights I have to go through until I can get an appartment for myself, at the 24 hours Korean Spa near where we live. It has special women's section with showers and hot tubs and lounge room where I can spend the night(s) safely. He did not kicked me away, but I feel I can't live with him anymore.

As I sat there with my backpack, I couldn't helped but laugh at my current situation. I agreed to leave my life, my family, everything I have behind just to be with him. Yet I am the one who have to be thankful. With all his harsh words, his indifference towards me, his pursuit for a life of pleasure, with all the loneliness I have to bear, and I am the one that has to be considerate towards him. I effectively being taken away from my roots, only to be told repeatedly how low I am and left to fend off myself, and now pretty much homeless in LA.

I ended up staying at the apartment for today. I was too exhausted to go anywhere else. I don't owe him this privilege though, because I paid this month's rent and because by law he is required to provide for me since he is my visa sponsor. I have made necessary arrangement and looking forward to move out, something that he claimed "couldn't be done" because of my non-existent credit score. What do I care? If I can't get an apartment here I can always go back to Bali.

Surprisingly, I don't feel anything except deep, dark, debilitating sadness. I am not angry nor do I hate him. He is what he is. He would tell you a different story, but that's just because how he perceive things. It was the lost of my dream that saddened me: The notion that his acceptance had merely been an illusion, and I have (and always) been on my own. It's the broken wings of hopes, and now I have to walk barefoot in the cold, harsh earth. All I wanted is to love and be loved in return, and that simple hope was lit beyond my expectation only to be destroyed mercilessly. A child may not aware that he/she is killing the bug by crushing it under hi/her hands, but does the intention matter to the bug in the state that it's in?

A little over two years has passed since I first donned that glass slippers, and now it had been destroyed beyond repair. The dress turned into rag once more, and I have to walked home with shards still on my bloodied feet, wherever home is. It will be a long and lonely journey, but I am not alone. I still have you, all of you. Thanks for being with me, dear readers. Thank you so much.

Diutamakan Selain Hindu: Cerita 'Diskriminasi' dari Bali

Sore-sore begini ketemu foto begini di Facebook saya. Rasanya jelas campur aduk: marah, malu, kesal, dan kelegaan bahwa saya tinggal jauh dari segala diskriminasi tidak beralasan ini. Tapi apa iya ini tidak beralasan?

Reaksi yang pertama timbul saat melihat foto ini pastinya cukup kuat. Yang fanatik agamanya (dan non-Hindu) pasti mengucap syukur tak terkira, yang kebetulan beragama Hindu pastinya misuh-misuh nggak karuan. Dan menurut komentar di foto tersebut mereka memang marah, menganggap disepelekan di tanah sendiri. Apa iya?

Di Amerika sini nggak ada itu ceritanya diskriminasi begini. Ada sih ada, tapi yang terang-terangan begini bisa dipidanakan. Kirim CV aja nggak nulis umur atau tanggal lahir kok, apalagi agama. Efeknya jelas, semua punya hak yang sama. Tapi juga pubya kewajiban yang sama. Dengan kata lain, nggak ada ceritanya kita bilang perusahaan nggak fair karena nggak ngasi libur Lebaran misalnya, atau libur Galungan. Disini libur sekolah akhir tahun saja disebutnya winter holiday dan bukan lagi Christmas Holiday kok. Agamamu ya agamamu, nggak ada urusannya minta libur diluar jatah libur kenegaraan untuk beribadah. Kalau mau ya ambil jatah cuti, dan kalau memang kondisi nggak memungkinkan ya nggak bisa cuti. That's life bro.

Balik ke Indonesia, orang bisa marah dan mengamuk kalau dirasa ibadahnya tidak diakomodir. Orang Islam yang harus kerja pas lebaran, orang Kristen yang harus kerja saat Natal, orang Hindu Bali yang harus bekerja saat Galungan (cuma di Bali lho, yang kebetulan di luar Bali mah cuma bisa gigit jari). Dulu kerja di Bali pun, bos saya sempat dengan spesifik minta HR saya untuk mencari karyawan yang non-Bali. Alasannya sederhana: biar saat hari raya Hindu Bali nggak semua karyawan libur, jadi perusahaan bisa tetap jalan. Masuk akal toh?

"Tapi itu kan hak kita beribadah!!" sergah beberapa dari anda. Gimana ya, ibadah itu relatif lho. Saya yang Hindu Bali tinggal di Jakarta jelas nggak mungkin minta 3 hari berturut-turut libur untuk merayakan Galungan. Kalaupun bisa berarti rekan kerja kita yang ketiban pulung. Sebaliknya, saat kantor tutup saat Lebaran pun saya yang nggak Lebaran jadi ikutan libur. Fair/adil? Jelas nggak. Tapi lebih nggak adil lagi kalau saya memaksa semua orang mengakomodir saya. Di Amerika sini nggak ada dikasi waktu Sholat seperti di Indonesia. Bukan karena benci Islam ya, tapi karena nggak adil buat yang non-Islam kalau yang Islam boleh pakai jam kerja untuk sholat sementara yang lain nggak dikasi waktu break tambahan yang sama.

Balik lagi ke pengumuman di foto itu. Semua yang Bali komennya marah dan emosi, padahal belum tentu juga agama Hindunya jalan. Kalau sembahyang ke Pura masih ngeberatin pemilihan baju/kebaya yang paling necis, kalau mulutnya masih sibuk menjilat dan mencerca dan sama sekali nggak ingat prinsip Tri Kaya Parisudha, kalau Nyepi cuma jadi alasan buat maceki/main kartu dan minum tuak seharian, nggak usah meledak saat dengar berita begini lah. Pemilihan katanya pun perlu dicermati: diutamakan selain Hindu. Bisa jadi seperti kantor saya dulu yang memerlukan pegawai dari berbagai agama agar perusahaannya bisa tetap jalan walau libur apapun dan bukannya benci agama tertentu. Kalau dibilang diutamakan non-Bali barulah berhak marah, karena ras nggak ada urusannya dengan pekerjaan.

Intinya nggak usah sensi. Nggak usah parno dan berseru orang Bali dijajah di negeri sendiri. Suka atau tidak, orang Bali memang harus bekerja keras untuk mengembalikan citra mereka (baca: kita). Sekian lama kita dimanja oleh manisnya pariwisata, dari semenjak jaman Belanda lho. Konsep 'duit gampang' itu yang harus dihilangkan, dan sebaliknya mulai bersikap profesional. Bukan berarti lantas meninggalkan kewajiban beribadah lho ya. Indahnya Bali ya segala upacara itu yang mana masyarakat Hindu Bali adalah bagian di dalamnya. Kalau nggak ada segala upacara itu apa lebihnya Bali? Sekalian aja ke Thailand. Profesional disini berarti meyakinkan si bos bahwa kerjaan bisa tetap kelar walau ada hari raya. Apalagi kalau kerjanya di tempat yang tidak terikat hari raya seperti hotel atau spa. Walau demikian, perusahaan di Bali yang saya tahu kebanyakan sudah 'menyerah' dan beradaptasi dengan BAnyak LIburnya Bali. Kompensasinya Lebaran nggak libur panjang hihihi.

Profesional juga berarti ya itu, nggak manja. Nggak berpikir bahwa anda-anda berhak dibayar dengan tinggi karena sebelumnya bule membayar anda tinggi. Entah berapa banyak sopir dan pembantu yang diinterview teman saya di HR yang dengan konyolnya minta gaji tinggi atau bahkan menolak kerja saat tahu bosnya bukan bule. Orang luar Bali juga banyak yang konyol begini ya, tapi yang lahir besar di Bali jelas lebih terdidik (baca: brainwash) bahwa bule sama dengan uang, dan kerja asal juga tetap dibayar. Saya kawin sama bule and we're still broke as shit lol. Happy, tapi nggak berlimpah harta seperti yang dibayangkan orang saat saya bilang suami saya bule. Harga nasi goreng disini $ 8 bo'. Indomie 50 cent. Kita kaya cuma pas balik ke Indonesia aja, bisa foya-foya makan soto ayam seharga parkir 30 menit disini hahaha. Eh, kok ngelantur.

Alasan lain kenapa orang Bali nggak 'laku' juga karena kurangnya kompetensi. Di Jakarta semua orang berbondong-bondong ikut LIA demi secarik ijazah yang membuktikan bisa berbahasa Inggris. Les-les penuh sesak dan semua orang berlomba untuk bisa komputer demi mendapatkan pekerjaan yang layak. Di Bali animo masyarakatnya nggak setinggi itu. Kalau saya punya usaha di Bali dan disuruh memilih antara karyawan luar Bali yang lancar MS Office dan karyawan Bali yang alamat e-mailnya masih memakai alamat e-mail pacarnya, jelas saya pilih yang becus kerja. Belum lagi sakit kepala menghadapi sesama orang Bali yang menuduh tugas-tugas yang diberikan kepada mereka adalah tindakan sok kuasa saya karena saya Dayu. Mau nama saya Bejo juga kalau itu tugas mereka ya harus mereka kerjakan. 

Apakah semua orang Bali seperti itu? Jelas tidak. Makin banyak orang-orang Bali yang sadar bahwa we are not alone. Bahwa dunia nggak cuma selebar pulau Bali saja. Bahwa kita orang Bali mampu menunjukkan kompetensi kita tanpa mengorbankan jati diri dan adat istiadat kita. Suatu saat nanti, kata-kata 'Diutamakan non-Hindu' tidak perlu lagi dipakai dalam lowongan pekerjaan karena kita mampu menciptakan sistem dimana profesionalisme tetap jalan dan adat istiadat tetap oke. Sekarang tergantung kitanya bukan? Salam!!!

Ps: sebagai perbandingan tambahan, kalau tempat pemotongan hewan buka lowongan pekerjaan dengan syarat 'Diutamakan Non-Muslim' karena mereka juga memotong babi masuk akal toh? Atau pengacara perceraian mencari pegawai yang non-Katolik karena di Katolik tidak boleh bercerai. Yeah, they are stupid examples, tapi semoga anda bisa mengerti bahwa terkadang 'diskriminasi' itu bisa terjadi bukan karena anti agama tertentu, melainkan karena sifat pekerjaannya. Anda yang kurang tinggi atau kurang menarik sulit diterima jadi pramugari/pramugara misalnya, atau anda yang buta warna jelas tidak bisa masuk FK. Jadi jangan pada cepat emosi ya... :-)