Mother’s nurture

Losing our parents is easily one of life’s most traumatic experiences, so treasure their time with us.

I’VE always left early for my hometown Penang to avoid the festive season snarl, and this Chinese New Year is no exception.

The state, particularly the island side, literally comes to a standstill because the streets are choked with traffic.

It’s not just the returning Penangites living in other states, especially in the Klang Valley, but a flood of tourists, too.

So, last week, taking advantage of a work engagement in Penang, I visited my 92-year-old mother, who lives in our family home in Ayer Itam.

I’m blessed to have my beloved nieces care for her, and we have a good Indonesian maid to cook and clean the house. I’m thankful that my brother has chosen to live next door as well.

Every journey home is an emotional one for me because my mother is visibly ageing. She has become more forgetful, as expected of someone her age, of course.

We just need to summon that much more patience because she would ask the same questions again and again.

Her hearing is another issue, but I’m grateful that she’s healthy for an elder.

A recent fall has forced her to move around the house with a walker.

She complains that the maid “is always with me” and “I don’t have any privacy”. Having her privacy invaded like that is certainly something most of us can understand because the maid is “in her face”. However, she simply must be watched over round the clock at this point to be sure she doesn’t fall once more.

I sincerely hope I won’t be as grumpy as my mother when I reach her age – if I’m even privileged to live that long in the first place.

My wife and I had to coax the maid to be patient and not get upset by her grumblings.

My mother has stopped cooking the past few years and this time, she was in no mood for an early CNY reunion dinner at a restaurant, saying she preferred not to leave home.

My two sisters-in-law are also unwell, which has rendered them unavailable for a meal outside, even though this is the all-important reunion dinner.

Naturally, my dad’s passing in 2020 when he was 95, affected my mother.

Like many women of her generation, she has few, if no friends, and the home has always been her only refuge. Mum has been a housewife all her life.

She’s lonely and the maid says she often gazes out the window, lost in thought of her beloved who’s in a much better place now.

I’ve tried persuading her to live with me in Kuala Lumpur, even if it’s for a short while.

My powers of persuasion haven’t worked, and I’ve also been frequently dealt the last-minute excuses in the instances she had agreed to come.

Previously, it was “you don’t have a room on the ground floor” or “I need a maid” and “I can’t hold my bladder for the long drive to KL.”

Those of us with old folks would understand that it’s the familiarity of the family home that provides them the many memories and comforts. Leaving Penang must be unimaginable to her.

My mother is Peranakan and I miss her cooking the most. She used to take great pride in passionately serving things like curry, jiu hu char (fried jicama with shredded cuttlefish), pork belly soup, perut ikan (pickled fish stomach curry) and other wonderful dishes for CNY. And she made a mean sambal belacan, too.

My dad, although full-blooded Cantonese, lived the life of a Baba because he was born and grew up in Kuah, Langkawi.

We never used chopsticks or common cutlery at home, so we mostly ate with our hands.

Our loved ones, especially our parents, will leave one day, but my greatest fear is that without their presence as our patriarch and matriarch, there will be no one to hold the extended family together. The reunion dinners will then just be with my own family unit.

The CNY get-together is more than just a celebration of spring, but the tradition of giving ang pow to our parents and grandparents and is a gift to display respect and a grateful heart.

As Asians, we are uncomfortable with obvious displays of affection, unlike Westerners, but we have our ways of showing our love and appreciation to our parents who raised us, while they’re still around.

As the saying goes, home is where the heart is.

Wishing everyone celebrating CNY a Happy New Year.

Gong Xi Fa Cai!