原来，想念是没有季节的。

For some reasons, I got into this blog first thing in the morning. As I read from the first post to the last, the recollections of every moment and every feeling, be it joyful or painful, drifted back to me. It's somewhat surreal, and beyond words could explain. There were tears and I could understand once again, the lyrical meaning of "笑着哭最痛".

And I came to realize, as long as a person &/or a feeling linger in the memory, the slightest event will tickle you into that same old feeling again. There is really no season and no reason.

Indeed, Mum had scared us to death, literally, in a couple of occasions.

First, this was when we were still in school (not sure if bro & sis remember though). It was this night when she called me and handled over a badly scribbled list to me. It was handwritten (with her awfully old British handwriting), listing all her insurance policies and bank account numbers. She said, as-a-matter-of-factly and with a wide smile, that she would be in the hospital for some liver surgery. If she could not make it, at least we know how much and where her inheritance was. Honestly, as a clueless teenager, I did not know how else to respond except for chiding her being nuts! There seemed to be no fear in her, and definitely not in us. Life went on normal after a few days of stay in the hospital. The only good thing that I got out of it was witnessing the sisterly love among Mum and her two other sisters. It was the start of a routine when Mum would bring us to Aunt's place, where she would be greeted with a bowl of specially brewed 满天星 herbal soup every weekend.  These visits would end up in Majong sessions where the sisters declared wars among each others.  I always wonder was Mum there for her soup or majong therapy. :)

After many years ... there was this one Saturday, a Hari Raya Puasa public holiday in 2007, Dad called crying for help. It was supposed to be the last week of some TCM treatments in Beijing where Mum was recommended. She was hoping that by going through this, she could avoid painful rounds of kidney dialysis.   Her fear of pains was not about the needles, but her restricted mobility of going places.  Anyway, Mum was in great pains, and I could hear her wailing in the background.   The subsequent afternoon was flooded with calls to her friends for their professional advice, to SQ for getting tickets to get over to Beijing immediately, to bro who was at the HK airport waiting for his returning flight to Spore after his audit assignment.

This was really the first real test for us in life. Till today, it never fails to amaze us how we put our acts together and orchestrated her return via an air ambulance from Beijing to the TTSH ICU. The pain of seeing her suffering, the doubt of medical care and emergency response in a foreign hospital, the struggling helplessness on what was the best option there and then, the sadness of we had not done enough, the regret of perhaps we should have discouraged her from going instead of supporting all her decisions, and the fear of losing Mum in a foreign land were just too overwhelming.

This was also the first time we saw how much Mum was loved, within and outside the family. The ultimate amazement was not how she was saved, but how she fought her life through. We were awed, deeply touched and appreciated her even more.   One thing for sure, her enduring optimism and steadfastness (or should I say, stubbornness) saved her another time from death.   We knew she could not bear to leave us yet. God decided to give her a second chance. 

Within the next two years, she recovered and started her dialysis. Her fruitful living continued with a few volunteer trips to Myanmar, many events in the grassroots and her Alma mater communities; more glutton sessions with her friends and colleagues, more majong sessions with sis and her kakis, more time with the kids so that they would remember their Amah Yi-hua fondly; and she got to see bro's first born.

Now, another three years went passed in no time. Reading the blogs marking her 49th, 100th days and one year of passing made me wonder how long more we will be doing this - blogging as a therapeutic way in remembering Mum.   Somewhere in us, some regrets still linger within us, for not giving Mum a little more attention during her last days.  Like the last weekend at home, if only we had a little longer conversation with her; the last Mid-Autumn Festival, if only we had a dinner later or a stroll with her ... ...

Life continues as life should be. But we had grown to receive all the good and bad with more genuine gratitude. And still, it remains hard to spare a little attention or effort to the others living, whom we should give. It is simply too hard.

Well, well ... and just over lunch yesterday, we were talking about how good life is to us. We have not much 'wants in life', except for cravings for good food. This is undisputedly another part of her legacy, as we begin to realize.  

So ... I'm not sure if it is as fruitful as hers but, live life as life should be.