Giving a Bit Back
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I have been a bit busy lately. You see, my mother was in the hospital the whole of last week, because of a lung infection, among other things, and I make it a point to see her daily, after work or take time off to sleep over at the hospital. Especially after a pal mentioned that we should visit our parents, especially when they are sick, whenever we can because if we are too busy or don’t make the effort, nothing could be done, even with all the money in the world, after they are gone. Trust me, he said, it came from personal experience.
Maaaan, the chairs in the hospital are not made for sleeping. Plus getting up about ten times during the night to help her, let it be getting her a drink or to the toilet takes a toll on me but no problemo, the least I could do for the person to whom I owe my existence to. Later in the day, hollering out loudly to the tune that was playing on the radio, a kretek and the previous day’s still warm coffee while driving home from Seremban to KL did help me reach home safely. But I slept through half an hour of the movie Robot later that day.
“Is your Papa sleeping?”, Lina asked.
“Ya, he is and he’s snoring a bit. But just a bit la….”, Nazzim would say.
She’s out as of Saturday, a lot better but still weak. Now, if we could just get her to stop worrying about the many many things that women her age worry about needlessly. Her favorite people are a main source of her worries. I try telling her that they are adults and she should not worry about them, whether they have money, whether they are healthy or whether they are alive or dead. Those people are much much younger than her, much much stronger and should be serving her and not the other way around.
It is hard to see my mother grow old. She took care of the seven of us, one grandson full time and later, till now, my sister’s four kids too, on the virtue that she stayed with my sister. She has this funny relationship with my sister – can’t live with you and can’t live without you kinda thing. Me, I am the youngest biologically but I am also known as Bongsu No. 2. My sister is Bongsu No. 1. My younger brother is Bongsu No. 3. But when we say Bongsu, we usually mean my brother.
“Mak, Bongsu mana?”
“Ada, dia pergi rumah Mak Itam kejap…..”
Ha ha, Bongsu. That brother of mine. I’m not her favorite, for that title belongs to someone else. I realized that a long time ago, shrugged my shoulders and went on. Surprisingly, it is not Bongsu No. 1 or Bongsu No 3 either.
I would probably go visit her again tonight and will do so until she says that I don’t have to do it daily and then I’ll do it every other day until she says I can stand down to Defcon 4 or 5. I guess I’ll go on visiting while it is still possible to do so.
For my friend’s words kept ringing in my ears.
.
I have been a bit busy lately. You see, my mother was in the hospital the whole of last week, because of a lung infection, among other things, and I make it a point to see her daily, after work or take time off to sleep over at the hospital. Especially after a pal mentioned that we should visit our parents, especially when they are sick, whenever we can because if we are too busy or don’t make the effort, nothing could be done, even with all the money in the world, after they are gone. Trust me, he said, it came from personal experience.
Maaaan, the chairs in the hospital are not made for sleeping. Plus getting up about ten times during the night to help her, let it be getting her a drink or to the toilet takes a toll on me but no problemo, the least I could do for the person to whom I owe my existence to. Later in the day, hollering out loudly to the tune that was playing on the radio, a kretek and the previous day’s still warm coffee while driving home from Seremban to KL did help me reach home safely. But I slept through half an hour of the movie Robot later that day.
“Is your Papa sleeping?”, Lina asked.
“Ya, he is and he’s snoring a bit. But just a bit la….”, Nazzim would say.
She’s out as of Saturday, a lot better but still weak. Now, if we could just get her to stop worrying about the many many things that women her age worry about needlessly. Her favorite people are a main source of her worries. I try telling her that they are adults and she should not worry about them, whether they have money, whether they are healthy or whether they are alive or dead. Those people are much much younger than her, much much stronger and should be serving her and not the other way around.
It is hard to see my mother grow old. She took care of the seven of us, one grandson full time and later, till now, my sister’s four kids too, on the virtue that she stayed with my sister. She has this funny relationship with my sister – can’t live with you and can’t live without you kinda thing. Me, I am the youngest biologically but I am also known as Bongsu No. 2. My sister is Bongsu No. 1. My younger brother is Bongsu No. 3. But when we say Bongsu, we usually mean my brother.
“Mak, Bongsu mana?”
“Ada, dia pergi rumah Mak Itam kejap…..”
Ha ha, Bongsu. That brother of mine. I’m not her favorite, for that title belongs to someone else. I realized that a long time ago, shrugged my shoulders and went on. Surprisingly, it is not Bongsu No. 1 or Bongsu No 3 either.
I would probably go visit her again tonight and will do so until she says that I don’t have to do it daily and then I’ll do it every other day until she says I can stand down to Defcon 4 or 5. I guess I’ll go on visiting while it is still possible to do so.
For my friend’s words kept ringing in my ears.
.
posted by dudae_simboyo at 14:36
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