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Posts Tagged ‘Mom’

Much of Me

Much of the things I know, I cannot see. As much of the things I can see, I know not their truth. So, this far… I have chosen to listen to my heart. Faith, they say, is always blind.

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Just like that one September morning when I woke up to the silently screaming voices telling me to go home to Mom. I just listened. The way a good child did, though as a child I never did listen. But this time I did go home to Mom… only to find out that I was to spend the last ten days of my life before I became motherless.

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For the two happy and healthy Monchies I treasure…
Happy Mother’s Day to me.

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Ex

The whole visit was intended for THE day. So we were all supposedly geared up for Mom’s 80th Birthday Celebration on Saturday April the 11th. We arrived on the Saturday week before, ready to battle the jetlag head-on. We lost our heads in the process, but I would like to believe we actually won. I still went to bed 5 o’clock in the morning Calgary time. Just like I do at 5 o’clock in the morning Moscow time. If consistency is the key, I won big time.

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Three days in Calgary that is in GMT -7, we tested yet our superjetlag power by going back 2 hours of time zone on a 4-hour flight east. Ottawa was happy to see us for two nights.

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Anyway, I must admit… no matter how much I was gearing myself up for Mom’s big celebration, I was in no mood to socialize. Honestly! And since when does an 80th birthday celebration not come with socializing? Mom was expecting close to 100 guests of families, friends, foes and foie gras. She’s more popular than yours truly. What do I expect? She has lived long enough to be the mother of popularity herself!

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My Facebook status prior to the event – held at the Delacour Community Hall – was ranging and changing between:

  • Enida wishes she could cut today out and paste it somewhere else.
  • Enida is telling herself that THIS will be over in 3 long hours.
  • Enida actually ENJOYED the three dragging hours! Oh my God!

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Yes, you read it right, all right! I actually enjoyed the socializing event with most of the almost 100 guests who turned up to wish Mom what she has been wished 79 times before. There were a few relatives I was looking forward to see. There were many whom I never saw before and probably never will see again.

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But most of all, I proved it to myself one more time, perhaps the 2571st time that I am not a true introvert. I am just not! I do get my energy from people. From socializing. But how did I not listen to myself this last 2570 times? I dragged my feet, I dragged my anchor, and I had to drag my boobies if they were the size of papayas… all these years to still work harder than steel to convince myself, I am an exhibitionist. Uh, I mean… an extrovert.

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For An Azalea…

For an azalea
so rare and so few, Mom…
I knew not how to love you.

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So I’ve loved you like I knew.
I’ve loved you like a Rose, so blue.
For I am as rare… as you.

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Enida
April 2, 2010
Pokrovsky Khilma
Ulitsa Beregovaya Tri

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A special thank-you to my Swiss-Italian Rose… Sis Anahid Rose Lombard in Lugano.

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And a special ‘Happy Birthday’ wish with lots of love, hugs and kisses to Afreena Mariessa, my first niece, a petite rose, from Aunty Nid.

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Port of Call

Her battle was lost during the last year of her beautiful life. She lost it. Her memory. She used to collect everything she could collect. She used to keep everything she could keep. Just so she could hang on to everything she could hang on to. So she wouldn’t forget. So she would remember it all.

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And then she forgot it all. She lost it all. She even forgot where she was. All she could hang on to was her name and where she met the love of her life. All she remembered was where she was when she was young and when she was in love.

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She was in the Port of Dickson’s. She was in love.

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And that was the last beach I took her to, on which she walked as though she knew it was her last walk on the beach. I think she knew it. What she didn’t know was where the love of her life had been. It was all gone before she could let it go. And then she let go.

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She left.

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Take Her Words

My Kitreena.Things were not  going so well with  Be’s health that the doctor wanted him to check himself in at the medical center Sunday night. And since food was the last thing (or maybe the second last thing) on his mind, Be left before dinner time. So me Monchies and me had a quiet dinner just the three of us. No, it wasn’t a quiet dinner. It was a silent dinner.

 

It was Kitreena who finally said, “Mom, I am glad you are home. It is really good to have you back. I really missed you. It’s not the same when you were not here. Thank you for coming home, Mom.”

 

She is a sweetheart when it comes to saying the right things, ya know. And I am not saying this because she is my sweetheart. I guarantee that I can get some back-up votes here if I pull a few strings. But this gal almost always knows what to say. And what she just said went straight to my heart as I saw tears in the corners of her eyes.

 

Peace of mind of mine.“I will always come home, Monch! Don’t you ever worry about it. I am your Mom.” And of course I had to take an advantage by rubbing it in with, “You should thank God you still have a Mom and I am here, you know. You’re lucky. I don’t have a Mom anymore.”

 

Kitreena suddenly sat up and gave me quite a stern look, “Don’t say that, Mom! You always have a Mom. She’s just not here because she has to be in heaven.”

 

A silent dinner went on to be a silent night. We left it at that, as I believed what I just heard were words sent from someone who had to be in heaven.

 

 

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Returning

I am still grieving. I am not going to deny it and I won’t apologize. Too many people say sorry when they don’t know what they are sorry for, and most say sorry for all the wrong reasons anyway.

 

As a matter of course, I am glad I am grieving. Thank you Qunie (and Be, and Sia Peng, and Karen, and Nina, and many others) for putting the fact in a sentence… that there is perfectly no harm to do just that, and for ‘sentencing’ me to grieving, taking as long as I see fit taking.

 

But then again… grieving has long been in the act of writing to me. So here I am. I have returned to do the grieving thing again. Thank you for greading.

 

 

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