My aunt passed away two days ago.

She was the wife of Mum's so-called brother, and we've been taught to address her as "kum-mo" or aunty, since young.

Kum-mo is something of a legend in the family. She was diagnosed with breast cancer more than 20 years ago, had a major mastectomy, a relapse which saw the cancer spreading to her right arm, but year after year, she's still putting up a fight, despite the doctor giving her only less than 6 months to live everytime she went back for her follow-up.

She was closed to mum, and the two used to trade tales of their children and daughters-in-law. You could say that they were confidantes.

Kum-mo took it really badly when mum was ill. Despite having really bad motion sickness which makes her nauseous whenever she travels in a car, she made my cousin brought her to visit mum, and our place is a distance away from theirs. She was unable to handle the fact that mum, who was years younger, was so badly struck down by the stroke. She kept asking me when mum will be able to walk and talk again, and for once, I was at a loss for words. But she put up a strong face in front of mum. I remembered her clasping mum's hand and telling her, "Don't worry, you will get well again. Look at me, I've survived, and so will you," with tears welling up in both their eyes.

I guessed mum's departure really dealt her a hard blow - she was depressed and lonely, and her health was failing. And she has no one to talk to anymore.

I feel bad that I did not look her up since mum's demise, but I was trying my best to avoid any people, things or routine that will remind me of her. Visiting her would mean talking about mum, our common subject, and I don't think i can handle that at this point in time.

I hope she will meet mum again in another place and time, and the two will have lots to catch up on.

Have a safe journey, Kum-mo.

The weekly routine...

The lunar new year came and went. Life is slowly settling back to normal.

But why do i still get the blues??

I was passing through downtown the other day and started tearing for no reason. Then I realised it's becos that's mum's regular haunt - the place where she meets up with friends, does her shopping, or just to buy me my favourite egg tarts. It's embarrassing, not to mention the difficulty in explaining to others in the car why you started crying out of the blue, but it's hard to stop the memory from playing its reel, and somehow, I didn't want to.

They said you have to walk in someone's shoes to know what they've gone through. I never realised how strong mum was, until I had to take over the household now. The weekly trips to the market, replenishing supplies in the house, cleaning, offering prayers to dad, all these must be tough for her to do all by herself. She had arthritis in her left leg, which made walking painful for her sometimes, but she would still take the bus to town to pickup supplies she can't find near home.

Every weekend when I visit the local market, I see elderly ladies going about their weekly marketing, catching up with friends over a cup of coffee. Used to be, I would accompany mum to the market on days when I got up early during the weekends. She has a said pattern of going through her marketing, first to the butcher, then the fishmongers, vegetatbles, dried goods etc. In between, she would take a break and have a cup of strong black coffee at her favourite stall, maybe have a piece of cake, get some rest while chatting with familiar faces. Then she is off to continue her shopping.

As I go through the same motion every weekend, like how mum used to do, I wondered if any of the hawkers that mum used to frequent actually asked what had happend to her. Why did she not return after her holiday trip to China? I wondered if they missed her, the friendly lady who never bargains, always buying whatever they recommended to her. Did they ask around why she had stopped coming to the market? Or maybe they were too busy getting on with their lives to notice her absence.

Going Away

The lunar new year is just round the corner. I'll be leaving town and will only return when the new year celebrations have simmered down.

Every year, mum would be really busy around this time, doing her new year shopping. Memories of her making preparations for the new year celebrations last year is still fresh in my mind. I can almost hear her grumbling about how things have gotten so expensive during the festive season, and that it's time to take the curtains down to wash it. She will then fret over having nothing to wear, that she's put on weight and can't fit into anything.

But if you'd bought her any clothes, she'd complained that she can't wear that because it's "too young" for her. Of course we knew that's just mum being vain and self-conscious. She's the prettiest 64-year-old I've seen, looking not a day older than 50. But she would protest weakly whenever we complimented her on that, altho' u can always catch that little smile hanging at the corner of her mouth.

Well, there's no need for any last minute cleaning, or shopping, since we are still mourning and can't celebrate the new year. While families are busy going about with their spring cleaning and shopping, i'm just aiming to get through each day without crying.

I'm jut glad that I'll be going away. Staying at home would be too painful for me. I was just walking through Marks & Spencer - mum's favourite clothing store the other day, when a blouse caught my eyes. The first thought was "Mum would love this", and then a bolt of pain just tore through me. Mum's not around anymore. She has no need for pretty clothes wherever she's now.

I used to stay up late during New Year's eve every year, as the Chinese believed that this will contribute to your parents' longevity. This year, I intend to do the same. I hope mum is finally enjoying some peace and quiet now.

Happy New Year, mummy, whenever you are.

Happy Birthday, Mum

Just realised that we're just a few days away from 6 Feb.

Mum would have turned 65 that day had she pulled thru' her sickness.

In the past, she would be too busy with the new year preparations to celebrate her own birthday, always saying that she had no time.

And being a mum, her birthday is never important, compared to those of her children and grandchildren.

She'd even told us not to make a big deal out of the event, preferring to spend the day quietly, with no fanfare.

I wonder if mum would realise if her birthday is round the corner, wherever she is now.

I've decided that I'll get a cake and hold a quiet celebration for her, like how she'd have preferred.

Maybe she's somewhere watching over me, shaking her head and saying to dad, "Look at the silly girl, still not ready to let me go."

Happy birthday, mummy.
I missed you.

How do you say a final goodbye?

How does one bid a loved one a final goodbye?

I for one, found it difficult to say goodbye to mum.. when I knew that was the very last time I will be bidding her farewell. How do you let go of a loved one, when u r not ready?

She was in a coma, but I was told that she was still aware of what was happening in her surrounding, altho' she was unable to respond. So, instead of goodbye, I spoke of our happy times together, our silly fights, how much I missed her nagging and her cooking. I think she heard me, but I'm not sure. I spoke so much, but I couldn't remember what I talked about. I just wanted her to know, that I loved her, and that it pained me to see her suffering like that.

As I kept by her bedside during her final days, I really wished that she could be her old self again, just for a brief moment, so that I could hear her voice again. To be able to talk to her, how I'll gladly give anything for a chance to do just that.

Mum left on a quiet morning after Boxing Day, when everyone had gone back to work after holding virgil at her bed for almost three weeks. I guessed she was finally ready, to leave all these sufferings behind. I wished I was there when she went, but I guessed it would have been difficult for her to leave, knowing how she was always worrying about leaving me alone. I did not have a chance to bid her farewell.

Tomorrow will be exactly one month since she's passed on. While life has gone back to normal for the family, it is no longer the same for me. The grief and pain permeates the house, and the emptiness of her room reminded me of her absence every time I walked by.

Sometimes, for a brief moment, reality escaped me and I'll forget that she's passed on, thinking that she's in the living room reading the papers, or watching TV in her room. Mum loved to sit by the chair beside the window to read the papers after she's done with her chores in the morning. But when I called out to her and heard only the echo of my own voice, the stark truth that she is gone just hit me like a tonne of rock.

I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that she's left me forever. I have not said my goodbye to her yet, because I am not ready to do so. Maybe one day, I will be able to tell her, with a peaceful heart, "Goodbye, mummy."

Mum...

I've always wanted to start a blog... to talk about my toys' collection, my favourite Korean actor, things that matter to me, and things that irked me.

But I've never gotten down to doing it.

And then, my mum passed away, after a seven months' struggle with a stroke which she's suffered while holidaying in China.

Yes, I am grieving.

The pain is hard to bear.

And u can only tell people so many times, about the grief and hurt in your heart, before they wonder what's wrong with you, and why you should move on with life.

So, this blog is created in memory of my mum, who passed away last month, one day after Boxing Day. She was only 64.

I missed my mum tremendously. I never realised that I would miss her so much. I wanted to remember all the little things about her. Before time heals all wounds, like they say, and my memory of her will gradually fade away.

This blog will be my way of remembering her.