I had fully intended to publish the second installment of my trip report to Thailand, but recent developments have meant that it would be inappropriate for me to post my trip report during a period of mourning. You see, my mother-in-law passed away on 13 August 2011. I had thought long and hard about the wisdom on blogging about this since it would mean opening up the wound each time my wife Kat reads this. But rather than recollecting the painful details, I'd like to celebrate her last days, and reflect.
My mother-in-law had been ailing for the last 11 years, and my father-in-law's life revolved around her, bringing her to her treatments and tending to her needs. I was teaching scuba at the island of Tioman when I received news of her passing, and I made a 7 hour journey to be with my wife during her hour of grief. During the funeral rites, various members of the family had spoken to me about my mother-in-law, stories of her last days, and through those unrelated stories, I was able to piece together her last days which lifted my sadness and gloom. And I hope that each time my wife reads this, she will share in the joy which I had gotten from the stories, and I hope that others will be able to find the sunshine in the passing of their loved ones.
I must confess that my parents-in-law pretty much spoil me rotten, and being the only son-in-law (she had two daughters) meant that I was well taken of whenever we made the trip up to Kuala Lumpur to visit them. One of my fondest memories of her was us watching Nick Park's "Shaun the Sheep" on cable TV together, a programme she always enjoyed chuckling along to. The last time I saw her was when Kat and I got married in our customary wedding in Kuala Lumpur in June, and as Kat mentioned, she looked so happy in the photographs.
Just like most parents, getting her daughter off to a good man was a matter of much vexing for my mother-in-law. According to a distant relative, Uncle Billy, who had been cutting her hair for years, she would often lament about how career driven both daughters are and how she would never be able to see the day when she would see her daughters married. Uncle Billy would always comfort by assuring her that the day will come, and it did this year.
She was really excited about the whole wedding affair, although to be honest, Kat and I were more interested in getting it over and done with just to please the parents. Just like with any families, my mother-in-law has had her arguments with other relatives, and I was surprised when those relatives turned up for our wedding. I later found out that she had made peace with them, and they duly turned up on our wedding day. Upon hindset, it must've been such a joyous occasion for her.
I had remarked to Kat during the funeral that the events that bring together long lost relatives are Chinese New Year, weddings and funeral, and true enough, the same faces that we saw at our wedding turned up for my mother-in-law's funeral. Indeed, it was under much sadder circumstances than the last time I saw them, but as they started streaming in to pay their respect, I realised that our wedding was the reason for her reconciliation with her kin. It warmed me very much to see them turning up, a sign that the peace had indeed been made.
About an hour from their home in Kuala Lumpur is the casino city of Genting, hardly like Las Vegas because it is wholly owned by the Genting Group, with little business and residences springing up around the casinos and hotels. My mother-in-law enjoyed the occasional jaunt up to the the mountain peak where the casino is located and played with the slot machines. My parents-in-law were often candid about their trips to Genting as Kat usually frowns upon it and sees it as a waste of money, so for their last trip, I stumbled upon the details from Kat's aunt and uncle-in-law. My mother-in-law had called them up days before her passing and invited them to join my parents-in-law for a trip up to Genting. My aunt recalled that they had an enjoyable time, with my mother-in-law teaching her sister how to play the various slot machines.
It was definitely eventful days leading up to her last moments. Uncle Billy was telling me how his wife (whom we addressed as Aunty Jenny) would often chat with mother-in-law on the phone, sometimes for even hours. According to Uncle Billy, mother-in-law was Aunt Jenny's closest relative in Kuala Lumpur, and through their last conversation, Aunt Jenny told Uncle Billy that mother-in-law sounded really happy, as if she was without care or worries. I had also found out that mother-in-law had also contacted almost all her old and some even long lost friends to catch up with them.
I'm pretty sure that there's one or two lovely stories that my darned brain is failing to recall at this present moment, but the point remains the same. All these anecdotes, as I had told Kat, are evidence that mother-in-law was at peace when she passed on. She enjoyed her last moments of pleasure with her jaunt to Genting, saw her daughter get married, made her peace with her relatives, and spoke to her dearest friends for one last time. I could almost imagine her smiling to herself as she ticked off the last task on her list, and decided that it was indeed time to go. It was time for her to leave her disease riddled body, and to release her family their duty of having to care for her. And as she looked down upon everyone who turned up at her funeral, she must be pleased to see the people who came to pay their last respects. Kat had painted a lovely picture when we had a discussion about mother-in-law's life after death, about how mother-in-law's spirit would leave the shell that she had been burdened with, and transform into the beautiful lady that she was before she fell sick.
Letting go of someone we love is and will always be difficult. I was deeply saddened when I first received news of her passing. But when I heard all these wonderful anecdotes from her last days, it gave me reasons to smile. Her last days were that of joy, and we should celebrate that. Yes, grieving is part and parcel of expressing the loss, but let us rejoice in the fact that she had found bliss, and leaving her body was just the final act.
To my darling wife: Cry no more, my love, dry your eyes, for it would be what she would want for you. Moving on is not about forgetting her, because we shall continue to celebrate the life that she had.
For those of you who are grieving, I hope that this entry has brought you some joy, and I pray that you will find your own anecdotes of joy before your loved one moved on.
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