Two years ago, two days before raya (Eid) mom fell in the kitchen which subsequently led to her eventual demise. Raya has never been the same since.
This is the second fasting season that Mom hasn't been around for. It feels weird waking up for sahur (meal before fasting) to prepare the meal for the family when that was once Mom's domain. Mom was the one responsible for making sure every one gets up to have their meal before dawn.
Things are different now. Instead of Mom being in charge of the meals, it is now all up to me.
Ever since Mom passed on, the kitchen duties have fallen largely on my shoulders. The daily meals doesn't really bother me, but the meals served during Ramadhan (fasting month)... Mom usually make sure there was something special on the table for berbuka (break of fast) and she will ensure the fasting day begins right with a proper sahur.
Even as the rituals of fasting reminds me of its purpose of which to remember those who have to do without, I can't help but remember that the last Ramadhan spent with Mom ended in pain for her and Syawal (month after Ramadhan where the first day is Eid) was spend entirely in the hospital ward.
This coming November 4th would be the second year anniversary of Mom's passing. Even a year and a half or so away from the tragedy, I am still reeling from it's impact.
In fact as recent as last week, I was still dreaming of Mom. I dreamed she came back from the grave for a quick 'visit'. She looked her radiant self without the traces of fatigue and pain that marred her angelic face the last month of her life.
I miss Mom so much. I don't know if this pain I bear will be with me forever. Won't the scar ever heal?
It hurts still thinking of her sweet, loving self now taken from us. God loved her too much to let her suffer long. But I love her too and though I don't for the world wish her to suffer I can't help but wish she hadn't gone so soon.
Life is just not the same without Mom.
I have to stop. This is taking too much out of me. Tears are falling as I continue this trp down memory lane.
Perhaps more time is needed before I can talk about Mom and not want to bawl my eyes out.
I love you Mom. R.I.P.
