In 2008, 3 years after my graduation, Ah Ma had acute heart attack, pneumonia, and gastroenteritis. I received a phone call from my sibling and rushed back to Malaysia.
In the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), I saw my loving 79-year old mother intubated and she was put onto a life support machine waiting for my return. She had a central line inserted into her jugular vein in the neck, several intravenous catheters inserted in both arms, and an indwelling urinary catheter draining a minimal amount of dark brown urine. Bruises were noted around the insertion sites. I was feeling her pain. I touched her hands gently and called her "Ah Ma". She opened her eyes. Her eyes glistened with tears. The tears of pain and love. She couldn't say a word. All communications were non-verbal.
My siblings and their family were all in tears too. My second sister-in-law told me: "Before intubation, Ah Ma was weakly talking about how to cook the dish that she had prepared at home, and she was very sick and couldn't cook it for us anymore. " Hearing this, my tears poured. Ah Ma had sacrificed her entire life for us, and yet she was still thinking about how to take care of us while she was so ill. Flashbacks of my childhood- we lived in a wooden house; since the death of Ah Ba, Ah Ma brought us up single-handedly, she worked as a cleaner, factory worker, hawker (making and selling cuisines), and babysitter (Parts 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8). She was a great mother.
My brothers and I took the turn to sleep over outside the ICU at night so that we could be notified of her critical condition. It was an excruciating pain for me to witness Ah Ma's dying process knowing that her organs were shutting down one by one.
One day, she held my hand tightly, placed my hand on her chest and then on her face. This reminded me the scene of the mother who held her baby's hand, placed it on her chest and then on her face (Part 37). That was my very last communication with my mother via this loving gesture. She passed away the next day. Her unconditional love lives inside me.
At her funeral, my nephews, nieces and I sang her a Chinese (Hokkien) song titled "Call my name" (click the above YouTube link). The song reflected the greatness of a mother.
Rest in peace, mom. I would like to be your son again in the afterlife.
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Notable poem:
"Do not think of me as gone. I am with you still in each new dawn." – Native American Poem