Today is three months since my mum passed. I miss her.

The previous Sunday, my husband and I went to see my mum at her final resting place, with her new headstone. It was erected on the Wednesday before. That was her wish/decision. To be buried. To have the customary final rites performed for her. I wasn’t and didn’t want to be involved in the discussions about the post-part of her life. Too hard. And, at no time did my mum engage me in any of it. My interest/focus was on the pre – her wellbeing when she was alive. That’s not to say the post-part is not or less important because it was important to her.

Anyways, it rained that Sunday morning even before we left home. We went prepared with raincoats and umbrellas. They weren’t enough. The groundsman offered us a patio umbrella to shield us from the rain. We declined initially but had to concede that he was right. A bigger umbrella with a stand helped. It rained, rained, and rained. It was relentless. Wet, it was but I actually preferred it. It was cool, quiet, and peaceful.

Inevitably, I was sad and teary. Standing at my mum’s grave site was not something I had ever envisioned. I knew the photo and inscription that were approved for the headstone but seeing/reading it made it more real and final. My mum’s photo was the one taken in 2016, at an Old Town White Coffee restaurant in Sungai Petani, Kedah. We stopped for breakfast there during a visit to her youngest sister’s house. My mum’s date of birth and death engraved on stone for eternity didn’t help with my own churning emotions. Aiyoh!

Despite my internal mini-drama, I managed to offload thoughts/feelings of remorse and guilt that I’ve been lugging about since my mum passed. I could have/should have done better. I tried to explain my way out by pointing to or blaming life. How life happens, and how it gets in the way and takes precedence at particular times/phases and/or worse, always. I concentrated too much on the daily care, and in organising the medicines, food, and other household inventory when I could/should have spent more time with my mum. My husband, who was listening to my ramble, assured me that my mum appreciated all the times that I was with her, and was/is happy with me. Loving/caring included on-going practicalities that needed to be addressed in order for my mum to have the best care always. That’s life, he said.

As we stood in the rain, we spoke about my mum. Her easy smile. Yes, really. She was quick to smile, naturally. Not for photos. That was hard work. Tickling and cajoling were required. She never mastered the act of posing. Her cheeky retorts. She was funny and she made us laugh. I’m not sure if it was by design but she did come up with some real doozies. The last night I said goodbye to her, she told me to give her regards to the people in China. Beijing was our stopover enroute to Mongolia, and when I asked her why, her response was she was their older sister. Hmm. What? We also remembered how she watched her Tamil serials so intently. Not wanting to miss out on what was happening on screen, although there was a pause button that she had no concept of, she would say goodbye with her signature sideway wave.

We have so many wonderful memories of her. Sad as it was, it was a cathartic walk down memory lane. We laughed. We shrugged. We laughed some more, in between tears. I didn’t bring flowers for my mum. There were no hydrangeas in the flower shop. I did bring a few of her favourite go-tos for any and all ailments – ‘Omum’ water, Chinese medicine, Vicks and ‘Asam ko.’ 

I’m doing the best I can to move on. It feels normal and not, each day. The bottom line is I miss my mum. Recently, I came across some Sanskrit quotes that are supposed to work as effective affirmations. I could relate to all of them but liked two, in particular. One: ‘Sarvam Anityam’ – ‘Everything is temporary.’ It refers to the impermanence in life. Nothing in this material world is permanent. Be it grief or huge comforts and riches. It all goes away after a time. I know nothing is forever. Even the grief I feel for my mum. I know it will get less and less, and one day, I will be less sad when I remember her and speak about her. Two: ‘ Aham Swayameva Paryaptah’ – ‘I am enough.’ This is about realising that only I can help myself. I’m sufficient as I am to navigate my life. True.

That said, I prefer to navigate my life with my loved ones.