Flying. Flying with airplanes.
It's one of the things I love the most (besides rainy days)
I probably don't have good enough reasons to be in love with airplanes, but I guess love doesn't need reasons in the first place. But anyway, the first reason is because I used to watch Air Crash Investigation a lot that I end up being curious about flights. Second, there's something about airplanes that reminds me of holidays. Perhaps because I always flew on holiday seasons, to holiday destinations, and for holiday purposes only.
As I grow older, I realize why my parents aren't so excited about planes. My mom's work requires her to fly a lot. She spend hours and sometimes days in planes just to go to some meetings abroad, and so does my dad. I never thought about that before.
But a couple of days ago, for the first time I finally experienced flying not for holiday purpose but for a funeral. My grandmother's funeral.
I understand now that flight destination does affect the whole idea of flying.
I understand how stressful it gets to fly somewhere you don't really wanna be at. How tiring the take off and landing thing when you actually didn't want to arrive at your destination. The flight itself is still exciting for me, but there's this new point of view that I've never seen before.
I don't quite know whether the feeling came because of this new idea of flying or the loss itself, but it does affect me too in some ways. Sad but exciting, wrong but fulfilling, honest but blinding.
I'm sure it's confusing enough to make me feel uncertain these days.
Maybe these words that I used to describe the 'flight' thing is just an excuse. Maybe what I really want to write is the funeral. The loss.
How losing someone whom I should've known better is harder than I thought. Losing but not quite losing, sad but not quite sad.
Perhaps vapid is the best word to describe how I feel right now.
