"marriage is not a noun; it's a verb it's not something you get. it's something you do. it's the way you love your partner every day.."
"He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you."-Bob Marley.
My twiggy arms clung to her neck and I laid my head on her back. Beneath my ear I could hear the rhythmic pounding of he heart and I could feel her regular and steady footsteps as she paced the perimeters of my grandma's house. I inhaled deeply the sweaty but heavenly smell of her back and hair. I could feel her arms which she had folded behind her to form a comfort able seat for me.
This was almost a monthly ritual. I was a weak child and succumbed to bouts of coughing regularly. The paroxysms of cough made breathing difficult for me. Those were before the days of inhaler and nebulizers which relieve the anxiety of the mother and stress o the child who encounters breathing problems.
Sixty five years ago, my mother who was in her mid-20's, watched helplessly as I as I struggled to breathe. In an attempt to comfort me, whe would carry me piggyback-style as common sense told her the upright position was best. She believed the warmth from her back would warm my chest, too. She believed pacing up and down would soother me and it did as the paroxysms of cough would slowly deacrease and I could catch snatches of healing sleep. Only when she was very sure that I was in deep sleep would she relinquish her hold on me and put me back in bed, near to her side. Sometimes this did not last long and the bouts of coughing would mean another long night for Mum.
She heard that the cod liver oil would strengthen my lungs and she bought Scott's emulsion to give me on a daily basis. I detested the smell but obediently swallowed the creamy stuff after making a show of pinching my nose. Perhaps the cod liver oil worked or I grew out of this malady with the addition of two half-boiled eggs daily; I put on weight and never could shake off this weight problem until today.
Mum passed away on Dec 14 last year, just a day short of her 90th birthday. Even though I knew she was getting on in age, I was not prepared when it finally happened. To all of us near to her, she was invincible. It was hard to acknowledge that I would lose her one day. Mum's mind was so sharp and it was I who usually had to ask her, "Do you remember when...?"
It started with a cough; I got some cough syrup for her. She went to see a doctor and had a whole range of medication which did not help. She was to see the doctor again but before she could go, she collapsed. She was admitted immediately to the emergency unit and later moved to the ward.
She was coughing and had breathing difficulties. Her oxygen saturation was low but I could not carry her on my back to help her as she did for me all those year during my childhood. When I kissed her hands, I saw her gnarled and misshapen fingers from the years of hard work. I could only breakdown and cry some more but in her weak state, I could hear her say, "Don't cry." Mum was a Christian and I sang some hymns to her and she tried to follow but she could not because of the breathing apparaatus.
Mum gave me two and a half days. Two and a half days to tell her I loved her to which she responded, "I love you, too."
"I am sorry; please forgive me for the hurt I had caused you," I said to her.
Two and a half days to accompany her day and night. Shortly after midnight on Dec 14, she quietly slipped away. I have been her daughter for almost 70 years, yet I did not have an opportunity to feed her a bowl of porridge or change a diaper once. She did not even soil herself when we brought her body home and changed her. Neat as she was in Life.
I have been very lucky to get these two and a half days. It could have been worse if she had died instantly or lapsed into a coma. I had time, though short, to say what was in my heart while Mum could still hear.
It is not within our Asian culture to tell our parents we love them, but please do so because we really don't know when the last day comes and regrets are very painful to live with.
