Memoirs of a Loving Mum

A true account based on the life experiences of a loving mother to her only daughter, this short story depicts the strong, yet contrasting emotions of a young inspiring lawyer on her mum, whom she thought was nothing but a loser in life. Yet circumstances have proven likewise. Read on and let your emotions flow.

The Story

It doesn’t strike so much to me as a pure coincidence to see her again. And here she is, walking along the streets of Keong Siak puffing away with a cigarette in hand.” Cold – calling for business, eh?” I thought to myself. The year was 2003. It was barely half-past five, a typical Wednesday afternoon. The sun was shining up high. It’s certainly not the best time of the day for anything. But to her, the day had just begun.
She is my Mum. Or is she? I guessed so. It’s hard to imagine myself being borne by her. Difficult it may seem I tried convincing myself umpteen times for so many years. Futile attempts after attempts. Things are not going to make any difference anyway. My maternal grandma meant the most to me, not her. It had always been this case. At least for the past 28 years she had always been in my mind. And perhaps for the rest of my life till my very last breath she will be the only one in my heart. Even years after her demise, I missed her terribly.

And who is this stranger again that I have just met?

I was told she absconded from the labour ward before I can even feel myself cradled in her arms way back in 1972. My grandma brought me home from the hospital only a week later. She came back home the very next day, asking for $2000. No one knew where she had been for the past seven days. Or simply, no one really bothered to question. Her just reward, she claimed. I didn’t realised I was worth only two grand to her. This is a practical joke, isn’t it? I couldn’t agree more.

It didn’t come to me as a surprise that she did not get what she wanted. We were poor those days. I was glad she didn’t push her luck or create trouble. She simply stayed on with us. At times she disappears for a week or two. The longest I ever recalled was two months. But never once did she ever bring money home to supplement the house expenditures. She spends her time at home idling or drinking. Perhaps pinching my cheek or gave me a lollypop was the best thing she can ever do in a good mood.

Grandpa was a welder and grandma had to stop her laundry job to take care of me. Making ends meet with a total household income of barely $900 seemed a great challenge. But it wasn’t impossible. I had 12 years of education, a computer, my favourite Disney toy, pocket money and even occasional treats to Macdonald’s. It was amazing with these meagre monthly bread and butter I can get all I ever needed and desired through my growing years. I didn’t have many new toys though, perhaps one or two every year on my birthdays. That’s enough for me. I simply hated lollypops.

Days were looking better for us when I got my Scholarship for Overseas studies. Everything was paid for and grandpa made a small profit selling our old house. It was during this time she ran away from home again, but for the final time. I never saw her again. Not even when I came back from England four years later with a 1st Class Honours Degree in Law.

I started my own firm in 2000 after working four years as a corporate lawyer in one of the most established law firms in town with impressive staff strength of 20. I held a grand celebration for Grandpa’s 70th Birthday at Ritz Carlton Hotel along with grandma and some other relatives. A month earlier I got us a private bungalow house after throwing a couple of millions taking over and renovation as his birthday gift. Both Grandpa and Grandma were envied by our relatives for who I have become now. There is nothing as strong as the love we had for each other. A real family is all that matters to me.

Since young I have perceived her as a missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle to our family. An unwelcomed piece of the family puzzles to be stomped on and crushed like an insect. Not everyone is blessed with a mother’s love and bondage. I have to admit this for a fact. But I don’t need her at all. Not then, not now. Not in many years to come as well.

I was so deeply engrossed reminiscing the old memories as if it just occurred yesterday. I didn’t even realised she was approaching and waving to me assumingly. If she thinks I may ever change my mind in letting her back into the family, that’s clearly wishful thinking. Extorting money from me perhaps, I rather donate it all to charity than saving a penny for her. Whatever it is, I just need to be on my guard for now and see what comes along the way.

It came as a big shock to me when she did not reacts the way I would expect her to. “You shouldn’t be here, my dear.” She said in an unusually calm tone. “It’s not safe for a young lady like you. Since you’re here, perhaps you can come over to my place for a little while. It’s been ages since I last saw you.” I was obviously dumbfounded. I was gearing up all my defences when she countered it so indifferently.

Suddenly she sounded like an old friend whom I have not met for a very long time. This feeling is over-whelming and I had difficulty resisting it. I simply can’t bring myself to say no.

It was a briefly short visit though, lasting no more than ten minutes. The apartment was co-shared by six other women whom are her friends in the same profession. She had become a social escort since I last saw her. Paid sex provider, I thought to myself. Now this is the truth I have been waiting for all these years. And this filthy woman is none other than my biological mum. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I left when she went off the kitchen to get me a drink. I took out a small stack of $50 notes and casted it on the coffee table. That’s it. This is the furthest I can stretch my heart out to her.

I didn’t tell anyone in the family I saw her. Not even my Grandpa. This part of my memory is so devastating that I just wanted to erase it off without a trace. Life will still go on forgetting unhappy stuff. Repression is the best and only thing that I could rely on. News of her death came two months later after I last saw her. It was terminal stage of liver cancer that took her life. She was only 46 then. Honestly I was a little surprised but certainly not deeply shocked. She had been an incorrigible alcoholic all her life.

Perhaps she had known right from the start that drowning her sorrows in liquor will eventually cost her own life.

As much as I was reluctant to break the news to my grandparents, I knew I had to do it. She was their only daughter. The funeral possessions lasted for a week and I had to make a trip to her old apartment, clearing all her belongings and make way for the new tenant. In fact, there wasn’t much to pack. I guessed she knew she was dying and gave away most of her clothes and other stuff. But she left a letter and a rusty, old metal tin underneath her pillow.

I opened the box out of curiosity. And till my dying day, I wished I hadn’t. I don’t want my heart to melt. Yet it did. The rusty tin had nothing more than 28 sticks of lollypops in it, with an old photograph of her posing with a lollypop with my grandparents when she was a kid. It was her favourite sweet. Perhaps she thought it’s mine as well. I opened up the letter as fast as I could. There were only a couple of sentences: “I knew you must have hated me. But if I could, if I still may, I would like to hold you for the very first time in my arms. I don’t know how it feels like. But I knew it would be wonderful.”

There was another message at the back of the old photograph that says, “Lollypops make me forget my unhappiness. May your life be as sweet as it can ever be? Love, Mom.”

An old newspaper article that was slipped silently between the letters fell onto the floor. It reads, “17 year old university law student raped on her way home from school. Depression caused her to attempted suicide when she knew she was pregnant.”

She had it all along in her. She knew my existence is to realise her unfulfilled dream as a top lawyer. I never knew we had so much in common. But she knew.

For the very first time in my life, I want to remember that I have a mum. And I love her.

Review

Nothing evokes human emotions more than pure love. Inspired by this true life account, this story will continue to rekindle kinship between mums and their children more than anything else in this world.