I cry easily when I watch poignant, heart wrenching movies about family, relationship, illness and death. In between muffled sobs (I try not to embarrass myself), I silently vow to focus on what’s important in life – family. When my sisters visit from overseas and return to their respective homes, I miss them achingly, and declare to keep in touch religiously. I also get emotional when I listen to old songs that remind me of my childhood – indelible memories of years gone by. I promise to be kinder, more generous in spirit and thoughts, and more accepting. I bookmark these in my head and heart, and plan to follow through.

And then… life happens. Daily routines and responsibilities, personal life and work, homework, mum care, family matters, friends and social activities. Moments and emotions wane, I get on with my generally happy, and occasional moany self. I don’t actually forget the vows and promises, I just don’t think as much about them.

Days, sometimes, weeks, go by before I realize that I haven’t spoken to some of my siblings. We text, yes, almost daily. We have personal, and a family chat group on WhatsApp that we use to correspond and keep up-to-date with one another. It is easy to use, and best of all, free. So, there is no excuse to not keep in touch. And, yet, I do and I don’t. I text and respond to texts but I don’t talk. I am guilty of choosing (at least to me) the quicker and lazier option to communicate. Why? I ask myself. Worse yet, I don’t see or visit my siblings, who live in the same city as I do, for weeks and sometimes months on end. Why? I ask myself. Is it the KL traffic, my overly busy life? Really, what busy life? I am baffled.

I love my mum. Fortunately for me, my mum lives in the same condominium block as my husband and me. This means I get to spend a fair bit of time with her, which I thoroughly enjoy. She is older now but still feisty. Forgets a lot of what is happening in the present but continues to remember the past. My mum and I have little chats. With encouragement, she is happy to reminisce about her family and how life was back in the old days. Her childhood, and her mum, grandma and great grandma. I appreciate and value the time we have together. I do wonder if I will have stories like my mum’s to share and pass along.

I love my sisters and brothers. We are, obviously, not getting any younger. If anything, each of us has already mustered a list of ailments, some inherited and some acquired – all of which look very likely to stay the duration. Age and illnesses are a lethal combination. Death frightens me. The older I get the more I think about it. Not in a morbid sense. But in a more factual and self-preservation sense. I fear death not so much for me but for those whom I love. I want my mum, my husband and family to live forever. This, I know is unrealistic. Hence, I want them to be around while I am still alive. I don’t want to be the last person standing. Being the youngest in a big family is not a good position to be, in this particular instance. Yes, one might argue that death doesn’t necessarily occur chronologically. Closer to home and a real example is my only living uncle on my dad’s side, who is, what else, the last born in his family.

With time ticking away, and again, not being morbid or dramatic, it makes sense to genuinely love, care and be considerate – to my family, and to people, in general. It also make sense to not be drawn into family issues (a little difficult in a big family; refer to the series Brothers & Sisters). And, to say and do what feels right to me (not hurtful stuff) instead of reacting to annoying behaviour and situations. I hope to speak more often (although I’d still rather text) and spend more time with the family, when possible.

I know, in my head and heart, I should do all of these. I may falter but I shall endeavour. The hope is to convert my realisations into meaningful actions sooner than later.