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Posts Tagged ‘Mom’

Port of Call

Posted in Write On, tagged on March 22, 2010| Leave a Comment »

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

Posted in Monchies, tagged on November 11, 2009| 2 Comments »

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

Posted in Write On, tagged on October 15, 2009| 2 Comments »

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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The 11th Hour

Posted in Sense, tagged on October 4, 2009| 5 Comments »

After a week between Jelai, Kenanga and 443, I decided to look for some kemesraan at our Mesra home on Jalan Duta. So me Monchies and me were within the city limit around 1530 Sunday afternoon leaving Mom in trusting hands of my two littlest brothers. Instead of heading straight to our Mesra, I took the Monchies out for a treat (a break from my cooking, really) at Meatworks and later for grocery stock-up at the Solaris CS. 

 

It was pretty nice to be in the Mesra embrace again after two months, I must say. The only embrace missing was Be’s.

 

But shortly after sundown my how’s-mom-doing standard sms was replied with Lam’s “call-me-please”… which was very rare, if not never at all. That was enough to make my heart skip three and a half beats! Mom slipped into her unresponsiveness again!

 

It’s exactly 12 hours to the very minute between us arriving in Mesra and now. I am driving through the mountains again bringing our love and Mesra to my Mom.

 

Tabeik datuk nenek gunowang bukeik ghimber howk Lentaang ke howk  Kaghowk ke, cucu cichiet nompang lalu. Nak balik moh lah degheih awaok nte.

 

 

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To Hunt, Too

Posted in Sense, tagged on October 2, 2009| Leave a Comment »

If I believe everything I hear but not see, my Mom is not dying of cancer or liver damage. If I believe everything that science is not able to make any sense of, I would go insane just from the fear of the unknown. And that there is some kind of evil spirit hunting my Mom and choking her right on the neck killing her mercilessly while keeping her alive.

 

Faith is another funny thing I dare simpering about only in the safety of my privacy. Out of respect to those who believe and out of my tolerance to possibilities, I would say nothing but… God is the superlative great! No hunting, no hinting. No buts, ifs, maybes, commas or question marks. Full stop.

 

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Kenanga Without an End

Posted in Write On, tagged on September 27, 2009| 3 Comments »

I do have a chapter to write. But at the moment, the very reason for writing the whole book is being written on my page of life. I am gone reading at a hospital ward called Kenanga. Shhhhh…

 

One thousand million smiles...

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Heavenly Heavy

Posted in Write On, tagged on September 24, 2009| 1 Comment »

Leave the light on for me...I woke up  yesterday  morning  with a  heavy feeling. So heavy, that I went straight downstairs, washed my hands, lit a candle for my Mom, grabbed whatever leftovers I could grab for Kitreena’s lunchbox and pretended that it was going to be another great day. It was for sure a great day for Kitreena – Daddy walked her to school, cool! Of course she went on her two wheels, helmet on and all, looking more and more like a sophomore than a lil kindy, that angel babygirl of mine.

 

Just when I thought what heaved me was the feelings of me mommy-ing  me Monchies who are growing as fast as they could say “Bye Mom!” I was suddenly reminded of the strange dreams I had the night before. Of my Mommy! The dreams that kept taking me back to the tiny house by which I remember my Mom the most. So tiny was the house that we always had to run into each other like little kittens in a roofed-box! We could not run, nor could we hide from one another in that ‘745-U’ little box. (I don’t suppose this explains my peculiar habit of hiding in a gobok everytime I run away from stressful confrontations, does it? Isyyy!)

 

It wasn’t until I started Skyping with KaCher that the onerousness became nothing but the opposite of dream. It was all real and touchable. That my Mom is… departing. And it is now and here that I started wishing that the whole world were as tiny as that little roofed-box where Mom raised me to be nothing less than her little angel.

 Gerimis di laman bonda...

 

I am not hiding. I am so far from everything and everyone… that if I hide, nobody comes looking for me. So I am now running home to Mom before she spreads her wings.

 

 

Spread your wings and fly
No kiss and no goodbye
In the thoughts that never die
Your name is a song of cry.

~ Enida
April 1997
Bangi Lama

 

 

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Lucky Lucky Me

Posted in Write On, tagged on August 14, 2009| Leave a Comment »

She kissed the corners of my mouth, rocked me in her arms stroking my shoulders and held me so close to her chest, that it was hard to believe she wasn’t the one bringing me to this world. And it wasn’t until when she said, “It is good to have you, dear” that I let that little child in me cry the longing cry for a mother.

 

At half past three in the morning she left me at the door and for the first time in my life I realized how my mother never left me. It was I who left her time and time again. And she has never asked me to come home, as though she knew I would always carry her in my heart. She knows I do.

 

Mom getting her mom-entum...This other mother of mine had once asked me to come home to her when her son lost his way home to me. And this other mother of mine looked me in the teary eyes at half past three in the morning and wished me luck as she knew all I need now is just that. Luck. She knows what I am out of.

 

  

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