It's another new year without you. The 2nd actually since you moved on. The new year has been eventful. Along came back from England, Abang started a new school year and I scalded my leg with hot water.
You must be thinking about the time when I was 2 and I ran into you when you were holding a jug of hot water and the water spilled on my right arm. As I suffer my second encounter with boiling water, dad and along can't help but recall that first incident I hat with boiling water.
Dad said how frantic you were when the water spilled onto my body. Well mom, that night when the water fell onto my leg I was screaming blue murder and I woke up Abang and Along.
Abang came rushing down where as Along thought she was dreaming and it was you who screamed from the kitchen and not me and so when she woke up and realize that it couldn't be you because you were gone already she decide it was all a dream and went back to bed.
As painful as the burns are, that's not really why I am having this conversation with you. I wanted to tell you that I have been dreaming of you again and quite frequently these past few weeks.
I haven't had these many dreams of you after the first few months of your demise, when dreaming of you was equivalent to going to sleep each night.
I don't know why the dreams are occurring again. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that as off late I have been back to thinking of you constantly like I had when you first passed away.
You know I will ALWAYS miss you Mom, but there are days when the pain is less and there are days when the pain becomes unbearable and there are days when it seems like it's a normal thing not to have you around, although those kind of days are rare because mostly it still feels odd not to see you sitting at the dining table or cooking in the kitchen or sleeping in the bedroom.
Mom, I am having this conversation with you tonight because after so long having kept my emotions at bay, I am feeling again the emptiness that I felt the first few months after you went away.
I feel so hollow inside Mom and I don't know by which means I can fill it up again so as not to feel so barren.
I miss you Mom and I still haven't figured out a way to get over you. I suppose I never will.
Al-Fatihah Mom. Until the next time.