I miss you terribly Mummy.
I still can hear your voice saying ‘ love love you’ to me
I still can smell your familiar sweet smell
I still can feel your soft hands as I held them
I still can feel your eyelashes as I kiss both your shut eyes
I still can feel the warmth of your lips when I kiss them
And I still can feel the coldness of your lips as I kissed them after your last breath.
Goodbye mummy. Till we meet in Heaven, I love you forever.
If I know this would be…
The last time I kiss you
The last time I smell your hair
The last time I hear you say, love love you
The last time you smile
The last time you laugh
The last time we walk hand in hand along Gurney
The last time you call my phone
I would have say everything I need to say to you when you still can respond to me
If I know this would be the last… Is a terrible thing to say, and a terrible feeling to have.
I think I can understand why people get angry in challenging situations.
It’s one of the defense mechanism.
It’s an ‘easier’ feeling than to face the knife cuts of your heart.
Get angry, blame someone, blame God.
But where does that leads to?
In those times, who then can you rely on? But God and God alone.
So I chose not to entertain anger. I pray that I don’t fall into the devil’s trap.
Cue angels singing: Ohhhhhhhh…
A beautiful article on hurricane Sandy and its impact on life- written by Anand Giridharadas, The International Herald Tribune
Here’s an excerpt:
Diners were looking at each other, not their phones; they were tossing conversation one table to another; boundaries were falling.
They had gas in their kitchen, wax in their candles and a dwindling supply of meat. They had the whole family there, kids and all, serving. They knew they were among the very lucky ones for whom the storm was not a disaster, but a strange kind of miracle.
I wrote this during one difficult night praying to be able to go to sleep as I need to drive a 4 hours journey back to Penang.
I really felt like this- on a respirator, keeping me alive with precious oxygen. And I can hear my breathing.
As I lay on my bed trying to sleep,
Watching the clock ticking by,
I realized that its getting harder and harder,
to quiet the cries I have inside.
Knowing that I can lose my mom at anytime,
With many things that I’ve yet to do for her in her lifetime,
cuts me with despair;
as I lay defeated,
similiar to a fish gasping for air.
An image of myself down on the ground I see,
and the only thing that’s helping me breathe;
Is The Word of God,
the Holy Spirit,
the Holy Trinity.
He is the respirator coursing through my veins
keeping my spirits alive
in a steady hum
and with assuring beats,
breathing life into me.