My heart continues to hurt. I miss my mum. I can’t see her. I can’t speak or share with her the things that are going on in my life. Not in person.

I knew/know she couldn’t have held on much longer. She was getting more breathless and weaker by the day. It was a struggle. Eating was difficult. While she eagerly asked and wanted to know what was on offer for lunch and/or dinner, her appetite had waned and chewing was a chore. Funnily, she reminded me of the very story she used to retell about nephew number 4, whom she looked after when he was a baby and toddler. Nephew number 4 used to keep/store his food inside his mouth/cheek, which he either didn’t like or forgot to chew. My mum did that.

Her bladder and bowel functions were slowing down. Food was more of a facilitator to ensure she ‘went regularly’. Fruits, ‘idli and dhal’, vegetarian mutton curry and curry noodles were more or less her staple diet. What she had enjoyed before like ‘porridge and you tiao’, pineapple rice, yam basket, ‘kochi santan’ and Secret Recipe’s carrot slice, she didn’t anymore. Her palette had changed. Eating was functional.

Luckily, she still enjoyed her Nutren Optimum, a calorie dense-milk powder drink mixed with Milo. Happily, she would slurp it all up, and say how ‘woosi’ or delicious it was. She also enjoyed the two small portions of red bean ice-potong or stick ice-cream that sister number 3 and I gave her. This was after my mum told sister number 3 that she would walk up to the fridge, never mind how, and have not one but two ice-potong in the middle of the night when sister number 3 was asleep.

According to my mum, consuming anything cold/chilled such as ice-cream, yogurt or cold drinks would trigger a cold. True or false, I don’t know. What I do know is when we lived in Taman Golf in Alor Setar, my mum drank ice cold root beer with plenty of ice cubes at lunch time. Granted she was a lot younger and healthier then. She also enjoyed McDonald’s strawberry and vanilla milkshakes. I used to buy them for her as did sister number 4 when she visited her in Australia. My mum boasted that she had two thickshakes/milkshakes at a go. Hmm.

As an aside, sister number 3 loves her ice-potong, and gets through numerous bottles/cans of carbonated drinks particularly coke when she visits us. I’m the same with kaya or coconut jam. I love to spread it on real thick on bread or any roti or shovel it down, as is, at breakfast while on holiday. Once home, it loses its appeal. 

Back to my mum. My mum’s life was limited to an established path/route in her condo. With support, she  walked from her sofa in the lounge to the bathroom, bedroom, dining table and back to the sofa. She refused to ride on her wheelchair even when she had problems breathing. When I said ‘giddy-up’ to her, she would attempt to walk a little quicker, and sometimes she would tear away like a little pony. Not quite but something like that. It was nice to see her childlike playfulness. 

She was a permanent fixture on her blue sofa. She was the person you saw when you walked into her condo. After lunch, she would walk to her sofa. Sat and read, napped, somedays, in the afternoon, watched her Tamil series plus YouTube in the evening, and went to sleep on it at night. Yes, she slept on her sofa. I can’t say for sure why but she didn’t want to sleep in her bedroom at night. But come morning, she was perfectly alright to rest in her queen-size bed in her large and comfortable bedroom. From about 9.30am-10am to 1.30pm, she was out like a light. Exhausted from going to the toilet, and having a shower. This, despite being hooked on to the oxygen concentrator 24×7 except in the shower. Which by the way, was kept under five/six minutes.  She slept a lot but she was also restless. 

Until the end, my mum was compos mentis. She was a cute 90+ years old, who was cheeky and funny. With clever one liners and retorts. She laughed easily. Had a sweet smile, and a generally pleasant disposition despite her ailments, difficulties and total reliance on others.

Naturally, there were several challenging moments. While the responsibilities, focus and time constraints were not always easy on me, I’ve always maintained that I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else but with my mum. That said, I wasn’t with her when she passed. A regret amongst a few others. I sincerely hope I did right by her. I love and miss my mum. I think of her, almost always. What to do?