Warning: Long and touching post ahead, at least for me.
Two days ago, my mum complained of feeling feverish when I went over in the evening to get something. She told me she felt that way only after having accidentally hit herself in the face while standing up after picking up something from under her desk. I could see that her face was slightly swollen.
It was then that I saw how age has slowly begun to ravage her. I saw a glimpse of how frail she was becoming. To me, she was always the workaholic. She would always be the woman who constantly busied herself all the chores after work. She always seemed somewhat unbreakable and determined in her struggles. She always seemed brimming with energy and busy with something.
But on that day, she looked gaunt. Some paleness showed on her face, subtle yet obvious enough to reveal the tiredness and discomfort that she felt. A hint of sadness escaped her eyes, as she nursed the painful, slightly swollen area of her face.
The whole picture of her, tugged heavily at my heartstrings. I felt such need to embrace her, to give her a hug that I felt she needed. But, I held back. We've grown somewhat distant as I grew out of my teens and ventured further into adulthood. We used to be so close. We used to do everything together.
I still love her very much, and that will never change. And I will not even question the depth of her devotion and love for my sister and I. After all, it remained as unconditional and relentless as the time when we first screamed out lungs out after exiting our biological chambers after 9 long months (or less in my case).
Everything she did was for us, as all mothers unquestioningly do for their children. The many needs and chores to fulfill. The selfish and sometimes unreasonable demands to put up with. The numerous tantrums to tame (or ignore). The countless times she became a climber, you know, when we drove her up the wall (I swear, that wall gets higher every time). The cries that she quiets when we were little. The sacrifices she makes fulfill our needs and wants as long as possible.
Although we have grown apart (which is my fault), when I saw her that day, it made me realize how much I loved my mother. Like I said, it never changed. I have to admit, I have not been very good at showing it lately and haven't been the perfect son to her. I had been impatient and quick to anger more often than I should. And I haven't been spending enough time with her, like in my younger days.
Seeing her like this, it really hit me that someday, it might be too late say how sorry I was for all the times I wronged her. It might be too late to tell her how much I loved her and appreciated all the things that she has done for me. I never want to wake up one day to realize and regret that she was gone, and I can only face the gravestone to say 'I'm so sorry for all the things I did' and 'I love you mum, very very much'.
I think one of the most painful things in life is when a loved one passes away without giving you a chance to say how sorry, grateful or how much you loved them.
PS: Yes, tears were shed while writing this post, especially at the last part.