Happy Mother's Day, moms.
You moms deserve to be queens on this day.
Yet my mother's day 2008 wasn't all that joyous and festive like the rest of yours.
For my mother's day 2008 opened my eyes to life's yet another harsh reality.
You may be the most glamourous, you may do the most astonishing of stunts now. Yet the next moment, you may find wrinkles crawling all over your face like vines would a tree, or just too frail and fragile that there's no better option than to be bed-ridden.
In preparation for such a celebration, I was slapped an unpleasant piece of news right at my face, just minutes after I arose from slumber.
My immune system was so up to the mark, that even I myself was amazed at the stunt I put up when I was in the High Dependency Unit. It was totally casual, nothing unusual. So was everybody. Maybe, maybe, good acting skills do run in the bloodline. Everybody was so assuring, despite the very, very limited things she could do, the barely, barely audible words she uttered.
There she lay, motionless on the bed when I entered the ward. The whole place was so uninviting - it's as if all life halted to a standstill, what's left was just remnants of everyone's struggle for another breath.
But there I was, being a perfect granddaughter as with my bro and sis. And I observed every twitch of her muscle, every movement her eyelids made. Everything spoke of fragility and helplessness.
As much as I've said I love surprises, I hate this kind of surprises, man. Such surprises always catch me offguard and such insecurity is suffocating.
And as I closed the door behind me, I shuddered at the fear that overwhelmed me for a second.
When is the next time I'm going to see her? And where will that be? 