I wasn't going to blog...I know, I know, but I've gotten lazy.
In light of the missing girl and the sexually assaulted and murdered girl case, (If you don't know about it click here, here and here) there are many PSAs on the radio lately warning and reminding parents to look after their kids and never ever leave them alone and let them wander off in public areas.
It's a knee-jerk response, I know, but...it reminds me of something that happened years ago.
It was 1995 before the family went to Australia for autumn and we were shopping for winter clothing in Sogo. I remember my brother (I was 9, he was 6) and I were at the toys department and I was admiring Barbie dolls on my own for quite a while when my mom found me and asked for my brother. He was missing.
My dad...he told me it's my fault, there and then. That my brother has been abducted and that his limbs will be cut off and he'll be made to beg in Thailand. And it was all my fault. I burst out crying. My mom was angry at my dad for saying that to me, I remember, but she was more concerned about looking for him and went to the ground floor info counter. Some girl found my brother outside Sogo's main entrance and sent him to the info counter. All was well.
But...when missing kids like Nurin and Yin appear on the newspapers, that incident comes back to haunt me. I remember how vulnerable and small and innocent my brother was. Technically, I was innocent. What was a 9-year-old supposed to do? My brother was looking at Lego and I was looking at Barbie dolls. He wandered downstairs when he couldn't see my parents. If my dad never uttered those things to me, maybe I won't feel as bad.
But I do. And I'll always carry that guilt. It's not right, but I'll always remember the "all your fault" part. Missing kids always make me sad. And guilty.