Lessons in Life (and Death)
It’s been more than 10 days since mom passed away.
I had only told several of whom I was chatting with when it happened. Thank you so much for those who had been passing the news to others.
Deepest apologies for not getting this news out on my own to everyone as soon as I should have been. More than dealing with mom’s death, I find that it’s harder to face other people’s reaction to it.
Lina was asking just the other day, “What do you actually say in response to people expressing condolences?”
I honestly have no idea. I don’t even know the appropriate facial expression, and it’s always so awkward to break the news when you’re looking at someone face to face. Well, it’s tricky trying to break the news through any other means too.
It had been so long since I’ve written in this LJ, since I’m not active in any other social networking sites; I decided to share my thoughts here, now that I'm ready.
Mom had been bed-ridden since 6 months ago; after a major stroke attack. She had shown impressive recovery within a few weeks, and we were all so positive to see her walking on her own again.
However, it was the cancer that she was suspected of having since 2007 that started to progress rapidly after years of slow growth.
Not long after that, she had stopped speaking, lost her appetite and slowly becoming more like a child. Hospital was like a second home for her.
Even back then I never really thought about how hopeless or sad it was; well at least not all the time. I kept thinking, “Well, at least she’s still with us, that’s better than nothing at all.”
But somehow earlier this year, I had this thought: “Will she see me turning 30 this August?”.
Not to mention every other milestones; getting married, having kids… achieving anything at all. Well, I figured that it’s an endless list; there’s no such thing as the perfect time for her to ‘go’.
But on Friday the 27th, while I was holding her hand in the wee hours after she had a seizure attack at home; I had a vivid dream of seeing her in the healthy state before the stroke attack and walking normally, with all of us around her and escorting her. When I told Lina about it at the time, she had viewed it as a hope for mom’s recovery; but my hunch told me otherwise, I just didn’t have the heart to tell her so.
Mom was then sent to Putrajaya Hospital. After continuous seizures that gradually was becoming more frequent with closer gaps between each attacks; that night Lina and I mutually agreed to prepare for her ‘departing’; reminding her of the things that she should remember, whispering comforting words and apologies.
What a queer thing it had been; there was only peace in our minds and hearts as we tried calming her down and we had the whole family (the 4 of us) coming over that night caring for her together for the first time. We were lucky to be surrounded by the hospital staffs that were genuinely concerned of our family’s well-being and gave spiritual support whenever possible.
The only thing that sort of freaked me out a bit was when a lone senile patient (whose age was the reverse of mom’s) who was lying in the same room; started talking to ‘someone’ whom we couldn’t see. After a while, it only convinced me that it won’t be very long for mom.
She was still breathing; come Saturday morning. Dad told us to go home and take a rest, while he waited at the hospital.
Apparently Lina and I were supposed to return back to the hospital at 4pm, but it turns out that we didn’t have to go there anymore.
She passed away around 3pm; so many people were telling me about their version of what had happened. One thing for sure, dad was there.
For mom to breathe her final breath beside someone who she devoted 30 years of her life to; that was my deepest wish.
Her funeral was to be held on that very night, so they brought back her body to our home; already in her kaffan.
When they open up the layers of cloth covering her face; I saw the serene look, her lips curved into a smile.
We hardly ever saw her smile since 6 months ago, so I shed tears for the first time at the sight. It wasn’t tears of sadness, it’s more a relief.
That she was smiling while everyone around her cried, as we each openly expressed our love and longing for this person who we couldn’t physically interact with anymore. It was evident how she left marks in everyone’s hearts and the impact she had in their lives. I know that memories will fade, but for a daughter to witness such a beautiful moment even in this situation; it was more than I could have ever hoped for.
I do sometimes feel a tugging sensation at my heart, when I’m reminded by the small things related to mom. But I haven’t really cried yet. Initially I thought that it was weird; there must be something wrong with me.
After a while, I told myself that it’s okay, I shall allow myself to feel whatever it is I wanted to feel about this in my own sweet time.
Most importantly, I will do my best to not regret anything that has happened. No regrets at all. Her life and death had taught me this.
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Mom,
I will turn 30 this year, I have no idea if I was the daughter that you had hoped for while you were still alive; I have so many faults and am lacking so much. Even back then I knew that I can never be even half the wonderful woman you were.
You were so perfect that at times I resented that fact; the main cause of our misunderstanding and bickering (which I believed were our ‘special’ way of communicating :) ).
Maybe I will miss whining to my friends about how irrational you were, or eating those special dishes only you knew how to make, hearing you tell me about how the world is turning crazy while I try to pretend not listening… These things may seem superficial; in fact, these were the things I haven’t gotten to experience throughout the 6 months you were sick.
But Mom, I think I truly accepted you as you were, even when you stopped doing any of the things that made you familiar to me.
O Allah, thank you for this lesson, I am grateful for it.
May she be placed with the blessed ones. Amin.
P/S: To be writing this in the office… Okay, I finally cried when I was done. No regrets at all. :)