
She was a true Domestic Goddess. Her cooking, a rich fusion of Balinese,
Chinese and Indonesian food, could
easily beat the hell out of Farah Quinn and her fake plastic nails. She loved
being home, taking care of her kids and husband, the very thing that we are all
dread to become. She loved it. She never had this urge to getaway and leave
everything and just go... well, not until I took her to our first
(mis)adventure to China. Since then, she occassionally would ask, so where are
we going next?
We went to see panda together in Chengdu, awed by terracotta warriors inXi’an, cruising on top of the tourist river boat in Guilin, a street away in Saigon, shop until we
dropped in Chatuchak, met the King in Bangkok and walking around the ancienttown of Hoi An. She’s way too easy to
please: just take her to places with pretty scenery, lots of flowers and fresh
fruits, not too much sunshine (neither too much snow) and she’d be happy. Being
a direction challenged traveler that I am, there were plenty of time I told her
to wait and allow me to read map or asking random locals. She didn’t mind that
and trusted me absolutely.
A friend asked me once, was it not difficult to have her with you? And I
said: not at all. She just said yes to everything. How lucky, my Mum would just
go all Nazi on me whenever we travel, she enviously told me.
I am lucky. I am lucky I got to spent all those time traveling with her. I
am lucky I made the decision to just took her and go. She passed away last
January, right after celebrating Chinese New Year. She went into her room to
sleep and never came out. In their desperate attempt to soothe my loss people
always tell me: how lucky for her, that’s the best way to die. Most of the time
I only can nod, bite the inside of my cheek and try not to blurt: but what
about me?
I can totally roam free now. No Mum to watch over and taking care of. I can
book a ticket on a whim and just leave... except that I don’t want to do it.
That something is amiss. That now if I book a ticket in my airline customer
account, her name is still there, one click away. That I still unconciously
googling ‘scenery’ or ‘flower market’ in the country I plan to visit. I just
realized, I built my whole itenerary around her. At least, we had that memory.
I know how grief works. I experienced it four years ago when Dad passed
away. What I learned: time does heals, forgetting is impossible, letting go of
regret is an art that you must mastered to survive, alcohol is sometimes your
best friend and most importantly, surround yourself with positive people. It
took me for years to heal. It will take me a lifetime to heal from this newly
inflicted wound, but I know I’ll get there. Hey, I’m a veteran of loss. Renoir
said it best: the pain passes, but the beauty remains.
4 komentar:
people's bodies are in fixed states but never our memory of their souls. they'll twist, turn, shapeshift over time. sometimes those make for the most interesting company. always love reading your writing.
terima kasih sayang. Only you can write me such a profound comment.
very well written, i can understand your loss but you of all the people your age have experienced a lot and one day you will benefit others from all the grief you've had (:
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