It's 3 months since Mummy passed away and we have just performed the dharna to transfer merits to her. During the prayers, all the tears and sadness returned.
In these 3 months, I find myself looking for ways to keep her memory alive and close to me. Strangely, one of the things that I have been doing is to look inwards at myself. What have I inherited from her? How am I like her? I am, after all, my mother's daughter.
I have always felt that I looked like Mummy. But all the photos that I had seen did not show that. Even worse, the joke in the family was that I was adopted because I didn't look like anyone! Well, my feeling was proven right when I saw an old photo from my aunt. When I first saw the photo that my brother had posted on Facebook, I thought it was one of our old family photos. I thought the girl in the photo was me. But it was actually Mummy when she was a teenager! (And my brother insisted that he inherited her stance.)
So what else did I inherit from Mummy? There is always this debate about Nature vs Nurture. How much of what we are is taught and how much is innate? Is it only wishful thinking that I inherited Mummy's traits - resourcefulness, creativity, efficiency, cleanliness, intuition, love for children and cooking? Mummy was all that and more.
Everyone knows how well Mummy cooks and raves about her cooking. Even today, when there's a gathering, we reminisce about her cooking. She cooked without a recipe and relied on her taste buds. Everything was 'agak agak'. Such was her talent and skill. Some things cannot be taught. Mummy definitely did not go to cooking school. She probably did not even help out in the kitchen. In fact, when she was young, she was so pampered that she would not have to wash dishes and got pretty much her own way.
Oh, the things that Aunty Wimala told me when she was with me by Mummy's side at the hospital. Mummy was very defiant and loved to dress up. Once, she wanted to put on her new high heel shoes to school. But Grandma forbade her. So she put on her usual white canvas shoes. But once she was at the bus stop, she would change into her high heel shoes and walk the rest of the way to school.
In my head, I can hear Mummy say "Shut up lah". That's what she used to say to Aunty Wimala when she was upset. Uncle Cyril also gave a hint of what Mummy was like when she was young. She liked wearing her dresses short. Looking at all her old photos, you realise that Mummy was a real fashionista.
Mummy certainly was a free spirit and spoke her mind. I think that being pampered when she was young, she was used to getting her own way. As a mum, she was the best. No doubt about that. As Reverend Bhante said at the dharna on Saturday, mums are always special. No one will be able to cook like mum - nothing else tastes the same or as good as mum's cooking. And it's because of all the love that goes into the cooking. She doesn't cook for herself; she cooks for us. How true! I can't find anyone who cooks like Mummy. And I miss her and her cooking so much.
After the prayers, my son JJ came up to me and said that my cooking is the best. Yup, it's true, mum's cooking is always the best. Thank you, Mummy, for passing so much of yourself to me.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Till We Meet Again
Mummy passed away on Tuesday evening, 28 June, 4 days after I arrived from Hong Kong. I don't know if it was because she finally got to see me and my sister, who came home from the US the day before. It had been a long, torturous journey for Mummy, living with dementia that kept her trapped and unable to speak. Dementia struck her in her fifties, at a time when she should have been enjoying her life's rewards.
My sister arrived from the US on Monday night and we went to see her that very night. That was the night before she died and I spent that night at the hospital with Mummy. I didn't think about it then but I think the first sign that she was getting ready to leave us was when she threw up her night feed. She was not able to keep any food down after that.
On the evening that she passed away, I had arrived with my sister and dad to see her. I noticed how fresh she looked. My brother, who had just seen her less than an hour ago but had left for work, had noticed that her eyelids were open just that little bit and not shut tightly like before. And the morning before, she had coughed up a lot of phlegm. Again, something she had not been able to do before.
Her death was so peaceful that I did not even know that she had taken her last breath. That day, we we supposed to discuss with the doctor how to care for her at home. It had been everyone's wish that home would be where she should take her last breath. However, shortly after we arrived at the hospital, the doctor checked on her. Shockingly, he told us things were not looking good and that she only had a few hours left. While we knew this day would come soon, we did not expect it to happen so soon. There were things I still had not done.
I had asked the doctor to try to keep her breathing for another day so my kids would get one last chance to see her. When that was not possible, I asked for just a little more time so my brother could come back from work. But it was not meant to be. Her body just could not take it anymore. I did manage to get my kids to speak to her on the phone from Hong Kong. I hope she heard them.
Of the three of us, I think Mummy always felt my brother needed more attention. She was always worried about him, even crying for him everyday when he went into NS. And I think that she took her last breath even though he was not at her side because she had already seen him just a while ago and she knew that she need not worry about him anymore. My brother has done her proud, raising a fine family (one of his sons is in NS and was commissioned as an officer one week after her funeral; his other son, a keen photographer, is studying for his degree) and taking good care of her and my dad.
Strangely, after she took her last breath, her complexion changed and became very smooth and soft to the touch. She smelled so good and fresh too.
I had wished for a long time that she would be released from her suffering so that one day I would be able to talk to her, to hear her voice again. Until today, I still have not heard her voice and wonder when that would be. I miss hearing her voice so much.
I tell my kids not to leave room for regrets in their lives. Because I do have regrets and regrets haunt you for a long time. I regret not spending more time with her, talking to her while she still could. I regret not holding her more often and telling her how much I loved her. I regret all those lost years when I was so preoccupied with my own life and new family. I regret that my kids did not get to know her or get the opportunity to be pampered by her as she loved children so much.
I don't think that anything we do will ever be enough for all that she went through for us. Everything she did, she did for us. My only consolation is that we gave her the Buddhist rites that she would have wanted. Raised as a staunch Buddhist, Mummy had always found comfort in the priests' blessings. On Sunday evening at the hospital, she received blessings from a priest that she had known for many years. Right after she passed away at the hospital, he was there again to bless her.
I don't know how long the pain of losing her will last. We all grieve in our own private way. I think about her everyday and cry for her still. My dad looks at her photo and talks to her. He too, never stops thinking about her. Neither do the rest of our family...Mummy remains in all our thoughts.
Buddhists believe that when a person dies, they will be reborn. Every night during her wake, there were prayers where we chanted prayers and transferred merits to her, providing for a more auspicious rebirth in her new existence. As the priest said, being the good person that she was, she already had earned merits for herself.
Mummy never enforced her religion or beliefs on us. But she did bring us to the temple often and we could see how dedicated she was. Her passing has made me understand her faith a little better and has made me want to know more.
My wish now is that we will all be together again in our next life. And I am still waiting for her to speak to me.
My sister arrived from the US on Monday night and we went to see her that very night. That was the night before she died and I spent that night at the hospital with Mummy. I didn't think about it then but I think the first sign that she was getting ready to leave us was when she threw up her night feed. She was not able to keep any food down after that.
On the evening that she passed away, I had arrived with my sister and dad to see her. I noticed how fresh she looked. My brother, who had just seen her less than an hour ago but had left for work, had noticed that her eyelids were open just that little bit and not shut tightly like before. And the morning before, she had coughed up a lot of phlegm. Again, something she had not been able to do before.
Her death was so peaceful that I did not even know that she had taken her last breath. That day, we we supposed to discuss with the doctor how to care for her at home. It had been everyone's wish that home would be where she should take her last breath. However, shortly after we arrived at the hospital, the doctor checked on her. Shockingly, he told us things were not looking good and that she only had a few hours left. While we knew this day would come soon, we did not expect it to happen so soon. There were things I still had not done.
I had asked the doctor to try to keep her breathing for another day so my kids would get one last chance to see her. When that was not possible, I asked for just a little more time so my brother could come back from work. But it was not meant to be. Her body just could not take it anymore. I did manage to get my kids to speak to her on the phone from Hong Kong. I hope she heard them.
Of the three of us, I think Mummy always felt my brother needed more attention. She was always worried about him, even crying for him everyday when he went into NS. And I think that she took her last breath even though he was not at her side because she had already seen him just a while ago and she knew that she need not worry about him anymore. My brother has done her proud, raising a fine family (one of his sons is in NS and was commissioned as an officer one week after her funeral; his other son, a keen photographer, is studying for his degree) and taking good care of her and my dad.
Strangely, after she took her last breath, her complexion changed and became very smooth and soft to the touch. She smelled so good and fresh too.
I had wished for a long time that she would be released from her suffering so that one day I would be able to talk to her, to hear her voice again. Until today, I still have not heard her voice and wonder when that would be. I miss hearing her voice so much.
I tell my kids not to leave room for regrets in their lives. Because I do have regrets and regrets haunt you for a long time. I regret not spending more time with her, talking to her while she still could. I regret not holding her more often and telling her how much I loved her. I regret all those lost years when I was so preoccupied with my own life and new family. I regret that my kids did not get to know her or get the opportunity to be pampered by her as she loved children so much.
I don't think that anything we do will ever be enough for all that she went through for us. Everything she did, she did for us. My only consolation is that we gave her the Buddhist rites that she would have wanted. Raised as a staunch Buddhist, Mummy had always found comfort in the priests' blessings. On Sunday evening at the hospital, she received blessings from a priest that she had known for many years. Right after she passed away at the hospital, he was there again to bless her.
I don't know how long the pain of losing her will last. We all grieve in our own private way. I think about her everyday and cry for her still. My dad looks at her photo and talks to her. He too, never stops thinking about her. Neither do the rest of our family...Mummy remains in all our thoughts.
Buddhists believe that when a person dies, they will be reborn. Every night during her wake, there were prayers where we chanted prayers and transferred merits to her, providing for a more auspicious rebirth in her new existence. As the priest said, being the good person that she was, she already had earned merits for herself.
Impermanence alas are formations,
subject to rise and fall.
Having arisen, they cease;
their subsiding is bliss.
As water raining on a hill
flows down to the valley,
even so does what is given here
benefit the dead.
As rivers full of water
fill the ocean full,
even so does what is given here
benefit the dead.
Mummy never enforced her religion or beliefs on us. But she did bring us to the temple often and we could see how dedicated she was. Her passing has made me understand her faith a little better and has made me want to know more.
My wish now is that we will all be together again in our next life. And I am still waiting for her to speak to me.
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