One year on
We measure life ( or death ) by milestones, by events, by timelines. It has been exactly one year to the day since you left us – so suddenly, so unexpectedly, so devastatingly.
Your absence leaves a gaping hole in the hearts of those who loved you, mine especially. You never ever get over the loss of someone dear. Time does heal, somewhat, and will continue to do so, but not entirely. I miss you on Sundays when we go to church, and there’s one seat next to ours which should have been yours. The granny room remains empty because it was meant for you to come and stay with us. I missed you at this year’s Chinese New Year reunion dinner, when you would be the one playing host, at your place.I missed you when we went to Bali minus one more kaki. I miss you in so many unfathomable ways that only seem to crop up now that you are not here.
I have lunch occasionally with Aunty Nancy, your good friend, for somewhat selfish reasons. In a way, she is like a proxy mum; she gives me insights on what makes her tick and what doesn’t and that says a lot about people of her generation. Through her, I gradually begin to understand what it is like to be YOU, your thoughts, what makes YOU tick. When I saw the inmates of Cheshire Home, whom you served for such a long time , struggling in spite of their handicap to pay their respects to you, I learnt of your giving nature and your kind heart. Perhaps, that is why you looked forward to your “me” time at MBS after demanding hours at work, simply to unwind and escape into a fun-filled wonderland of dazzling visuals which makes your heart beat faster everytime the coins start raining down the jackpot machines.
I remember you used to like to bake chiffon cakes, and the days preceding Chinese New Year were filled with waffs of baking aroma from fresh-out-of-the-oven pineapple tarts, or traditional kueh bangkit we made outside our HDB corridor. Apart from that, I don’t remember you ever cooking anything else – that belonged to Grandma, or Mak as I used to call her. All these come flooding back to me as I spend time pottering about in the kitchen, baking or cooking, trying to do justice to the stacks of cookbooks I amassed from Amazon. Perhaps, that is why I have become so fixated these days, trying to recreate the memories and to reclaim a bit of my childhood during those carefree, halcyon days – with you.
What a year this has been! There were air crashes and natural disasters, which struck close to home. We lost the founding father of Singapore. There is an atmosphere of heaviness and gloom. I just miss you and cry along with those who have lost their loved ones.
I may not have been the perfect daughter. Indeed, I must have exasperated you since the day I was born, coming from an entirely different planet altogether. I may not have understood the whys and hows of what you are. But love transcends trivialities, space and time. Someday, I will be able to embrace you again and have that feast with you – in heaven.
Love you, Mum.
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