Upon hearing the latest developments from my sister, Kak Cik, about Mak's condition, coupled with the guilt of not being there for Mak, and add this crazy workload that I have, this entry makes an attempt to translate the many thoughts I had in the car on the way home last night.
Mak does not have any appetite to eat and yesterday, apparently she did not even notice that she had passed motion on the bed. She is in adult diapers, of course, but considering how particular she is about cleaning herself without any help from the maid or anyone of us, that is a sure sign of some level of deterioration. At least to me. Having had almost nothing to eat except for warm water, she retched late yesterday, again another sign of the onslaught of this disease by the name cancer.
I thought again and again about my office colleague Farehana, whose mother underwent surgery early this year and was in a critical state and the fact that she took unpaid leave to care for her mother. Her reasons were simple. When will I ever get this opportunity to care for my mother at times when she needed me? Farehana too held a position that demands a commitment and saddled with a huge responsibility for Strategic Planning for the entire Group but she made that call to do what she needed to do and that seems so logical to anyone in her situation.
Why can't I do that? Why is this such a difficult decision for me?
It saddens me that I am not able to be like Farehana.
It saddens me further when I think about my mother's life, and how alike it is to mine and all mothers in many ways, except for the difference in years.
My mother tells me that I am the "wanted" child, having had five children in the space of 6 years (1949 - 1955), I guess the decision to have me when my brother Ghazie was 11 was due to the hard life then and let's put it this way, having that many kids in that space of time must have not been easy in the 1950s.
So when I was born, my mother tells me that my sisters were so excited about having a little baby sister and I quickly became the attention of the family. Too much attention that I was accidentally dropped by my eldest sister while carrying me as a baby. And to that my mother said "we are lucky you turn out all right, no brain damage...."
And she was just telling me last week when she was at my house, that Harith too is just like me, a little baby brother that is much doted by Munirah, Zarif and Aliah. And at the corner of her eyes, I could see tears welling, perhaps knowing that she will not see Harith grow up like she did my first three.
Mak tells me that I was a fastidious child, difficult to please and prone to tantrums when my wants are not met. As a toddler, I drank syrup from the bottle and would throw the bottle if the syrup and water combination is not to my liking. (don't you ever wonder why I am the size I am now) I wanted paper ships to be made and the ships were never the exact way that I wanted them. My mother had very little patience for me always leaving me to the hands of Kak Leha to address my source of discontent.
I remember in Form 3, upon getting my SRP results I had informed her and her comment is "pandai jugak anak Mak ni" even though I only managed to get an aggregate of 9. That was her simple way of giving encouragement and how I almost burst with pride when she said that.
I remember too in boarding school where she would bring food almost every day during fasting month for me and my sense of relief for not having to eat the school kitchen prepared food for breakfasting. I have not had that opportunity to do that since none of my own kids have gone to boarding schools but the act of "bersusah payah" is so Greek to me having relied on maids for so long.
There are many more memories that are as clear as the day it happened in my mind. My mother was more a mother to me than I think I am to my children. My mother was many times more a mother to me than I was a daughter to her. I have been so emotional on matters that don't seem to matter much now.
Now in her time of need, my thoughts last night was this "wanted" baby have failed to act on what is the right thing to do. I know this seems more like my own inner critic but why can't I?
From L to R : Kak Leha (my parents' adopted daughter), Kak Mong (eldest), Mak holding me, Kak Cik and Kak Yang circa 1966.
