The true stories of me

It's 5 am.

I'm still awake.

Last night, mum did the huge task of telling me in person that my aunt was murdered 6 months ago. She was my mum's sister, one of my closest. Mum saved telling it to me til now. And I wholeheartedly agree that that was the right thing to do. I don't think I could have handled it being alone.

Saying it out loud just makes it seem so much the more real.

I almost didn't believe it til now.

She was murdered by her cambodian maid of a few days. Unprovoked. Blunt head trauma. Multiple.

Waves of sudden shock followed by anger, anguish and sadness come and go intermittently. They're still coming and going.

Oh and to make matters worse, the maid is still at large. She escaped and the malaysian police are useless. Is there a more scathing synonym for useless?

People told the family they should sue the maid agency, says Mum. I mean, how could they let a total whack job work with people? My other aunt who discovered my 1st aunt also would have been hurt if it were not for circumstances. See, the maid was still around when the other aunt arrived back home. She didn't have an escape route and was yelling at my other aunt in Cambodian. She escaped. Then my other aunt found my 1st aunt. What if she had discovered the tragedy first? She could have been hurt as well. Anyway, long story short, they decided not to sue in the end.

I think in my rage and revenge had I known I would have.

What is the world coming to?

I just have no words at the moment.

None of anything makes sense.

I just kept saying why over and over and over again.

God, I don't even know what date my aunt passed away. There are so many questions yet unanswered. I keep thinking of this email she sent me. It was probably a few days prior to the incident. And the only thing that runs in my mind was that I don't think I answered that email. Of course it doesn't matter now, but I just wished I did answer that email, you know? The other thing that runs in my mind was that the last time I spoke to and saw her was the same time I last spoke to and saw my grandma. I just had no idea I wouldn't get to see both of them again. I'm glad in a way that I gave them all the love I could muster in that fraction of a moment of saying goodbye.

Reading actually helped take my mind off it. Blogging maybe helped more. Crying helped a lot. I'm not quite done yet still.

I think I'm strong enough to get past this. One day at a time.