A letter to my dear crazy big fat mama

Dear mama,

It's been 3 years since you've gone. Even longer since I called you my 'crazy big fat mama' while you watched your tv in your room. I used to watch you play cards, where you taught me to count to 10/20/30 faster than my other friends when I was younger. You even got into a fight with Papa because of me once. We would have your birthday dinner at that Jumbo Restaurant every year because you knew the 'kapitan'. You always annoyed me with your silly exclaimations by saying things like 'Kencing kencing kencing!!' louder by each word just as you were about to go to the toilet. You never failed to make us feel guilty whenever we refused you of the sweet sweets we would eat in front of you by giving us a really sad look and telling us 'Later mama die then you know!".

I remember lending you my marching gloves before I left your bedside for school that very day you left cause you would feel cold so easily by then. Your hands were so very cold. You couldn't speak properly but we could tell what you wanted or needed even though you had to stay in bed the whole time towards the end. I remember something within me told me to bid you goodbye before I went off for school. It was almost noon. I got on my bus, and I couldn't peel my eyes off your window as the bus pulled away.

By the time I spotted Yvonne in the middle of my BM class, I didn't really feel like anything was right. I was standing because I hadn't completed my BM homework. I spotted Yvonne with her red cheeks and teary eyes and immediately started packing my bag. After speaking to the teacher I rushed down with her to the car park and into Papa's car.

As we turned into the road we lived at, I could see the cars of my relatives all parked along the road. I sped out of the car, skipped up the flight of staircase and went into the crowded room where you laid. For a moment I thought it was a false alarm, you looked as though you were merely asleep. After all, no one had mentioned anything to me about you leaving yet. Still, it would only make sense that you were already gone otherwise it wouldn't be a necessity for everyone to be here. I walked past tear-stained faces and listened to the pointless sobs of my mum and her siblings.

Reaching out, I touched your hand. The very hand that fed me rice into my nose when I was younger because you were too engrossed in the tv programme you were watching, the very hand that I was so fascinated by everytime I pulled on your skin and it would stretch and move back into position ever so slowly, the very same cold hand that I borrowed my gloves to that same morning.

It was different from this morning. Cold, yes, but more like frozen now. I didn't cry. I couldn't bring myself to. Because all I knew was that you were frozen in time.


But if you weren't, you'd be 90 as of today.
So, here's your birthday wish from me.
Happy 90th Birthday, Mama.
Don't ever forget to think of all of us who're missing you.