Conversation With Mom 3

Mommy,

I'm feeling incredibly sad at the moment. I don't know why. I was looking at my previous posts on this blog and as I stare at the background picture of when you were at the hospital, my heart just fell apart yet again.

Tears are streaming down my cheek as I realize yet again that you are no longer here and it's breaking my heart into a million pieces.

It's bad tonight. I'm missing you so much. I don't know why.

Life would go on as usual and you's be there at the back of my mind, but nowadays mostly I can function without you anymore. But there are times like tonight when the remembrance gets to acute and I just fall to pieces.

Just when I think I've got the hang of not having you around this would happen and I would be right back at square one, crying at your wake right after we buried you.

I still remember the day we put you in the ground as clear as if it just happened yesterday. Along and Abang arrived at the mosque in your hometown Chenor with the hearse first.

When they arrived there there weren't really anyone yet. It was just before dawn and the morning prayers were just about to begin.

Dad, Aunty Jen and I arrived 45 minutes later and soon the relatives came and things started happening.

I remember telling Along that it was right that she was your child that last saw you alive, because she was the first born. She greeted you first and she should be the one to see you last.

Along told me I was being nonsensical and not to get myself upset over nothing (I was crying as I told her this).

Mom, losing you is the single most hardest thing I have ever had to face all of my life so far.

I am still adjusting to not having you around.

I don't know when I'll ever think of you and not feel the loss and the urge to weep.

Mom, tomorrow I am going to sit for my L test for the second time. You know what happened with my first license. How I 'lost' it and now have to sit for the test all over again.

I wish you were still here so I can share with you the joy when I pass my theory test tomorrow.

All the little, little things in my life that I would have normally shared with you first... I won't be able to share it with you anymore.

Like when my story was printed at the back of a receipt and I won a RM20 voucher. Or when just a few days ago I won a USD$30 prize for second place in a flash fiction contest.

I miss seeing the pride in your eyes whenever I accomplish something.

I remember on my graduation day, the shine in your eyes when you saw your daughter whom you thought would never graduate graduated. I remember how happy I was that I could share that moment with you.

And when I told you I couldn't do my masters you were the only one who told me it was ok if I quit. I know you didn't want me to be a quitter, but I know too that you didn't want me to be miserable more than you didn't want me to give up on things so easily.

That were you in a nutshell Mom. You always wanted our happiness above all else. It didn't matter what other people saw in us, you didn't care what society thinks as long as your family is happy with the way things were you were happy too.

Mom, I miss having you around.

You were my constant companion. You were my best friend. You gave me solace, understanding, trust and you were always proud of me no matter what scrapes I get myself into.

And when I transgressed in my late teens, you took my transgression as your failure not mine. You didn't blame me for what I did wrong, you didn't judge. I still remember what you told me when I came to you and told you what I had done, "It's not your fault Adik. Don't blame yourself. It's my fault for not being there for you."

Although I knew then as I know now, that it certainly was my fault and not yours at all, I appreciated you taking the fault as your own and absolving me of my guilt.

So many instances when you had been there for me throughout your lifetime with me, that I can't help but miss the assurance that you would always have my back.

I miss your presence Mom.

I miss your gentle smile, your quiet voice, your loving self.

I miss YOU.

R.I.P Mom.