You are bittersweet.
Bitter. I lost my mother, today – years ago. I did not cry.
I knew the time would come; it was just a question of when. I don’t want her to suffer any longer – so I prepared myself to let her go – bit by bit – pieces by pieces. I was 3 months pregnant when I received the call from my brother. I was not shocked – I was sad – beyond words, beyond world – but
I did not cry.
I was at the office when I received the call. It was noon – almost lunch time. Like a blow to my heart, composing every sense that I had –
I did not cry.
On our journey home from Shah Alam was quiet – not sure what to say, not sure how should I behave.
I did not cry.
Then my sister’s gaze found mine, she is so little. Barely 14. She lost her mom – whom she spent most of her life with, not in the pinkest of health. She did not cry.
I did not cry.
At that moment, we were processing – this strange feeling. Lost. How do we move from here?
So we waited, and waited. Recited Yassin for our mother. We did not cry. Dean’s hand never left me – sometimes holding my hand, sometimes caressing my arm. I looked into his eyes – I saw pity. Bewildered, yes.
I did not cry.
They arrived – my brother’s face, red. Disheveled. He aged 10 years more it seems. His eyes found me, half-running; he hugged me, sobbing something I half-understand. I lulled him back to reality, searching for his eyes –
I whispered, “It’s okay”.
I did not cry.
They asked us to kiss my mother one last time, and I kissed her forehead – like how I used to. I breathed to myself, “It’s okay”. I watched my father tied her white cloth for the last time –
I did not cry.
Then we are at the cemetery. It was a windy evening. Almost embracing. I bid my last goodbye with my sister tugged in hand. We did not cry –
I did not cry.
And we live our life…
4 months later –I was alone in the kitchen. 7 months pregnant with Ikan Paten in hands, sobbing uncontrollably into the void. Screaming silently. Howling. Because the realization suddenly hit me, in the guts, no sympathy – I’m going to cook Asam Pedas with an internet aid not by my mother’s instruction and damn, her Asam Pedas is just the best!
Al-Fatihah, Norlida binti Mohamed Idris. You are missed, a little too much.
//
Sweet. It is my mother in law’s birthday. The best mother in law I could ever imagined. She single-handedly exorcised the horror of in-laws tragedy that I have been hearing before I was married. The one who never treated me like an outsider. The one who always reminds me that I am one of hers too, not just a mere wife to his son. The one who took care of me like a mom herself.
I got the privilege to celebrate & mourn the same day – and I chose to cherish.
7th March, you will forever be my bittersweet day.
Post a Comment