A letter to my Mother

Dear Mummy,

You wrote me plenty of letters when I was growing up. Mostly, those were to reproach me when I had disappointed or hurt you in some way or another. It must have been tough raising me and my three brothers all on your own but you did it so well with no complaints.

Such was your presence. You were not the expressive sort and was seldom affectionate with us. But your love was evident in the little things. You were obsessive about cleanliness -- never about grades -- and made sure whatever we ate was throughly washed and cooked. You were probably wise in knowing that a healthy body was the key to a healthy mind.

Your life revolved around taking care of us and as we grew older and your health more frail, we took over caring for you. When it became harder to walk without panting, Dad bought oxgyen tanks and tried to go to restaurants that were easily accessible. Brother subscribed to cable television so you would not feel bored at home. I brought Kieran, your grandson, over and stayed during the weekends to keep you company.

Still we could not prevent you from leaving us so suddenly on the last night of the Lunar New Year. We were reunited together as a family but could not keep you here with us. Perhaps God wanted you with him to spare you from the pain of further treatments and surgeries. That is our only consolation.

We miss you. There is not a day that goes by when we don't wish you could have stayed another day, another few years. It is remarkable how for someone who moved about so quietly, the house is so full of your presence. It didn't seem so long ago when you were resting in your favourite chair in the living room or having an ice-cream with us.

It is hardest for Dad, your life partner and companion for more than 35 years. He who married you despite the doctor saying there was a chance that you would not be able to bear children. (How wrong he was!) He who knew for years to come that he would have to bear the burden of paying your hefty medical bills.

But Dad took on the responsibility willingly although it must have been draining as your health deteriorated. But never did he once complained. Such was the beauty of his love for you. When you were tired during a recent outing to Ikea, he pushed you through the store in a cart. He was not embarrassed to do that. You probably understood best the depth of his love.

You, too, loved us deeply Mummy. It is hard not to feel lost now that you are gone. I imagine you must be in Heaven watching over us. You went with tears in your eyes -- it must have been equally hard to leave.

Take care Mummy. You can go with no regrets and no worries. Because of you, we are close as a family and we will look after one another.

I love you.