Dad was complaining to sis that I must be going cuckoo because I was playing with my hair again. Hmm the thing is he is not far off, I am trying to stop thinking and remembering today. It is exactly a year since Mummy went to her final resting place, a really lonely and painful year for me and the rest of the family. I don’t want to remember how I had to suck blood out of Mum’s mouth every half an hour, and how her blood pressure kept dropping and dropping, and I don’t want to remember what I whispered to her in the end. It hurts too much. Even when I was preparing the bunga rampai today, slicing the pandan leaves and rose petals, I intentionally put music on and made myself sing along, I didn’t want to prepare the gift for Mum with tears, I want her to receive happiness not grief.
I don’t know how long a person grieves anyway, I think I haven’t skipped any steps, but it still hurts, is it always going to hurt this way. I wish I could have a chat with Phil, he usually says stuff that makes me feel better, but he is paying for our indulgent 10 hours chat the other day, he is really tired, barely could even say hi to me today. Well that’s about it. I am too sad to write. Al-fatihah, Mummy.
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