remembering

I wanted to write this post before, like all things, my memory fades and I forget the little details about mommy.

She lays in ICU now, with life support. A fraction of what she used to be. Her fiestiness and fiery-ness all gone. She can't speak and can only struggle to communicate.

Yesterday evening, when my sister and I went to visit her, she struggled to tell my sister stuff - her funeral arrangements. Over and above that, she looked at me, and held my hand, and made my sister promise that she would take care of me. She has absolutely nothing to worry about me, and yet she does. And for the first time in my entire life, I told my mom that I love her and I wanted her to know that before she was gone.

Mommy is only 71 years old. Seeing her struggle and coping with so many machines and medication, it really pains me. And I know that she is kinda prepared for what is to come...what it must feel to take that journey alone.

I want her back. I miss her. Coming home, to the home that she'd built, everything reminded me of her. Her favourite corner on the couch that could no longer sit, because it doesn't give her the support. The dining table and chairs that we'd gone to Hougang Green to get. The lacy white curtains that part the living room and balcony that she absolutely refuses to change,

I remember her hands, and looking and thinking - why didn't I inherit these hands? They were adult-looking hands long and sturdy fingers, nicely shaped nails. Strong and knobby. These hands have done so much for us - working at the sewing factory owned by my uncle. Working as a cleaner in a day-care, working at a chee cheong fun factory, that gave her hands burns and nails fungal infection.

The shuffling of her feet with hotel slippers used to irk the hell out of me on weekend mornings. She is always the first person who would try whatever I bake and wants to eat it hot. "Sio Sio, tio bay pio" - eat it piping hot and win lottery, that was what she would say. Mommy's had a tough time with a husband who is a traditional Singapore man, "steeped" in dogmatic thinking, and male chauvinistic ways. I usually try to be on Mom's side, cos knowing my dad and his behaviour. She would call him 猪老爸 or "orr yee orr" names which I'd given dad to describe his glut and noise he makes at home.

I can't even remember when was the last time I'd brought her out for a meal, like we used to. I know she likes going to IKEA and just wander around the store. We'll end up at the restaurant, and she'll want the poached salmon. She'll remember my schedule and ask if I was going to exercise on Sundays, even right up to a few weeks ago, she would ask that.

She is very very sick. I know that there's no hope for recovery. All I want for her is a quick journey to the end without more suffering.




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