I miss my mum every single day, but there are days that I miss her more than usual. Days like today. Those are sucky, feeling weepy days. And they’re usually triggered by simple things, like seeing someone having a walk with their mother, or reading someone’s blog about what their mother did that makes them happy. Stuff like that.
I miss talking with my mum. I miss telling her silly stuff. I miss making her laugh. I miss the random little things she used to do to make me happy. I miss watching her tending the flowery plants just outside my bedroom window. I miss her knocking my window and making a funny face when I looked. I miss taking a nap on her bed while she was busy sewing next to me. I miss her tickling me to see if I was really asleep. I miss making fun of her while she was watching a Bollywood movie or a soap opera or a telenovella on TV. I miss watching her doing overly-dramatic impressions of telenovella characters. I miss her laughter. I miss her smile. I miss her singing. I miss her holding my hand. I guess I just miss having a mother.
My mum was quite something. She was different. She always encouraged us to be different and be proud of it. She knew I was unhappy. She knew I’d be happier if I could get out of Indonesia. She told me that if I could leave Indonesia, try not go back and not to worry about her. The thing is, I know I wouldn’t be here in Canada if my mum was still alive. I used to feel guilty because I felt like I was trading her life for the life I have now. But now, I just think of it as my mum’s final gift to me. And what a gift it is.
I am happy. I love my new life. I know my mum would be happy to know that I’m happy. But I still miss her anyway…