I love my mum. Always have. She turns 87 next Sunday. With her birthday around the corner, I was thinking more about her. As she is now. An old girl. Hearing suspect. Memory failing. Sleepy dopey. Heart and head willing, but body lagging behind. With flashes of determination and stubbornness.

And, as she was many years ago. Through my eyes and through the years. I realised the younger me’s memories were not very clear. They seemed somewhat patchy and might be influenced by old photographs. But the emotions associated with my mum were very clear – love and happiness. I felt loved and cared for in an almost matter-of-fact way.

My fondest memory was of my mum and me walking to the wet market. I relieved her of 15 sen from the daily RM1 grocery shopping budget that she had to feed a family of nine. My 15 sen was dutifully spent on fried noodles, fruits and cendol, a local dessert. My other nostalgic snapshot was of my mum and me visiting sister number 4 in hospital after her appendix operation. During one of our journey’s home by bus, it rained heavily. As we alighted the bus and shielded ourselves under a small umbrella, the brown paper bag that held eggs and some other food from the hospital, tore and fell on the road. She calmly held my hand and led us home safely. My mum was in control of the situation.

I didn’t have mother-daughter outings during my teenage years. We couldn’t afford it and it wasn’t a done thing, at least, not then. What I did was hug, kiss and wave goodbye to my mum everyday, all through my primary and secondary school going years. She would wait by the front door until she couldn’t see me anymore. I used to run back and wave some more. For sure, she was there and waved back. Puzzlingly, my mum was and still isn’t a tactile person. I smother her with hugs and kisses (not so with the pandemic) but she remains reticent, even now. After a lot of teasing, she explained that it was not what her family did, particularly her mum, Tulasi. My response to that was after all the years of being pasted with kisses and enveloped by hugs, she should have got the hang of it. She claims she is a slow learner. To be fair, she does respond with ‘I love you too.’ Most times.

I was also not that teenager/young adult who didn’t get along with her mum. The one who fought and rebelled about everything. From wearing make-up, skiving off school, boyfriends and staying out late. Actually, I lie. There was once. I was out with work colleagues on a Saturday evening and returned on Sunday morning to a very worried and upset mum. Since then, I make it a point to call and let her know of my whereabouts.

My dear mum was also my Dear Abby. She was my confidant. She listened. She advised. She supported me. Regardless of some of my silly decisions and actions. She was observant, and quietly approved of my husband when we were first getting to know each other. Looking back, she did a pretty decent counselling job considering my mum was married at 15, and the only relationship she had was the one with my dad.  For better or worse. Hmmm…

In my thirties and thereafter, I remember lunches, day-trips and holidays with my mum. I looked forward to meeting up on Thursday afternoons. That was when she lived with my brother and his family, after my dad passed away. We went for lunches, mostly at Sri Melaka, and did grocery shopping. When she stayed with me, while my husband worked in Taiwan, we went on day-trips and holidays to Templer Park, Genting Highlands, Bukit Tinggi, Butterworth and Penang. The best of these were Genting Highlands when she was younger and adventurous enough to ride the Flying Dragon roller coaster, 3D Motion Master (I held her hand for both) and carousel. The other was the trip to Butterworth to celebrate her birthday and to visit her family home. Unexpectedly, her childhood friend, who still lives there recognised her and invited us for a drink. Our road trip gave my mum the opportunity to see Parit Buntar, Simpany Ampat and Bukit Tengah – towns that were familiar to her during her childhood. Nice.

Now, our roles are reversed.  I care for my mum. She tires easily. Isn’t too keen on leaving her condo. Nevertheless, we enjoy our chats and have a laugh. Do some exercises, and a bit of the ‘Waka Waka’ and ‘Macarena’ dances together. She is frail but thankfully, still feisty and funny.

I enjoyed my walk down memory lane…