It hadn't occurred to me until this morning. I was doing a time check as I prepared my son for school when I realised that it was 3rd September. The first picture that came to my mind was a black and white photo of my mom carrying me when I was a newborn. She used to say that I was well behaved as a baby - able to entertain myself when she was busy with housework. In that photo, I did seem like a quiet peace loving baby. Whilst I can remember how she looked, I realise that I have forgotten how her voice sounded. I can remember my dad's voice but not my mom's. I realise that in my head I speak of her in the third person but any memory that I replay of her is like a silent movie.
My mom came from a poor family and lived through the Japanese Occupation in Malaya. As a child she was very weak and caught malaria twice, almost dying from it. She only finished four years of primary school and didn't know how to read that much. After she left school, my mom sold lunch prepared by my grandmother to factory workers to help with the family income. She recounted a time when she was so absorbed in her thoughts that she lost balance and dropped the food on the way to the factory. She was so afraid as she walked home that day and never forgot the punishment she received from my grandmother. My mom didn't have that much of a childhood.
When I was growing up, she supplemented the family income by looking after kids. There was a time when aside from her own four children, she was minding five other kids during the day time. This was on top of the household chores, marketing, cooking and looking after both my grandmothers. There were some things that she did which never made sense to me - choosing to walk to the wet market which was about half an hour away instead of taking the bus, and washing all the clothes by hand at 5am each morning. She would never consider trading off money no matter how little for a bit of comfort or convenience. She was constantly concerned about making ends meet and making sure she had enough for her kids' education. Also I guess the experiences of growing up poor never left her.
Somehow by God's grace she got to eventually see all four of her children graduate from university. Several years after I started working she decided to stop childminding. With the money she saved up she bought a new house. But just as life was getting a bit easier for her, she became very ill. Her condition was very serious by the time it was discovered and she passed away within three months. Those few months were some of the most stressful time in my life. It was difficult to watch such a strong woman suddenly become so weak, a person who had so much courage facing life become fearful of death. I just couldn't understand why she got the short end of the stick after having worked so hard all her life.
Many years after she passed away, I came to accept that whilst we lost her on this side of life too soon, God received her on the other side. When her tough life got tougher towards the end, God ran towards her to embrace and comfort her. At the very end, although she was in great pain, she held on to God's peace and the assurance that God was leading her to where it was going to be truly home.
Being the youngest in the family, I was and still am well loved. But as the youngest, I got to spend the least time with my parents. Sometimes I can't help but feel like an orphan without either of my parents around even though I am in my forties. It takes so little to be comforted by our parent - a little smile, a little word of advice, or just sitting next to each other. Yet when it is gone it is gone for good. I think about them when I watch my children grow, especially on days like this. Perhaps then, it is not all gone.
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