I Swear You Will Be Fine

    Day 386 – From one mother to another

    Dear Josh,

    Do you remember how I frequently talked about Aunty R? The “cleaning” Aunty at my work? She would frequently spoil me with different types of foods that she would cook. I would come into work and notice a box of beef rendang on my table, or a huge container of keropok, and sometimes different types of kuehs. She would even sometimes prepare 2 portions, one for us and one for Ammamma and Patta. I think you commented sometimes about how nice she is to me.

    You may also remember me being very upset that her son had suddenly died. I didn’t recall the date then. He had been in a car accident, was then discharged from hospital, and suffered a massive heart attack in the middle of the night. When Aunty R went to wake him up the next morning, he was gone. I only knew about it a few weeks after he passed. And I remember I was sobbing, but she was so, so strong. Her eyes just glistened, and she put her hands up and said, “what to do lah Doctor, this was God’s plan”. I was amazed with her strength and resilience.

    I think there were more than a hundred people who came from my workplace to your funeral. Many of them had been told about it just hours before. Even the guy who changes the lightbulbs in my room came. It was a few weeks later that I remembered I didn’t see Aunty R.

    When I returned to work, she came to my room and gave me a hug. And she said she just couldn’t come for your funeral. And that was because it was the first year anniversary of her son’s death. I couldn’t believe it.

    I saw Aunty R again a few days ago. She now works in a different part of the building, so I don’t see her much. We hugged first.

    Aunty R: How are you Doctor?

    Me: Ok lah Aunty.

    Aunty R: My son, 2 years now.

    Me: My son, 1 year now.

    How utterly heartbreaking. But we smiled at each other. From one mother to another. Both, now bound not just by the grief of losing a son, but the date when we lost them too.

    I admired the strength Aunty R showed 2 years ago. I realise now, that being strong is no longer a choice we can make. It is the only option. 

    Thank you for the strength you give me Josh. It can only be because of you.

    Love Mum

    Response

    1. caitlynnegrace Avatar
      caitlynnegrace

      I came across these words recently:
      Trusting God in your situation doesn’t always appear as calmness, resilience, or joy. At times, it looks like kneeling in prayer with tears streaming down your face. Sometimes, it’s sitting alone in your car, lifting your hands in surrender while carrying the weight of a heavy heart.

      I found rueful comfort in the above words. Because I am rarely composed and collected at God’s feet. The things that come out when I’m in a real storm before God can be quite scandalous. Years ago, I once shared with someone about how angry I had been over something and how I went to God about it, the words and all. The person’s disapproval was immediate, saying, I never speak to God like that.

      As wrong as it may seem to some, the truth I’ve learned for myself is that the way we pray or the way we are strong may not conform to the world’s ideal. Not all of us are made to hold our tears in check. Not all of us can rationalise our loss calmly. Not all of us can lock up our grief and throw the key away and function normally. Being strong and feeling strong doesn’t always go hand-in-hand.

      To me, you are very, very strong, Cheryl. So are Jess and Shalini. Maybe it’s to do with the light from above that’s leading you on, telling you to to keep going.

      I too think that light is Josh.

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

    Leave a reply to caitlynnegrace Cancel reply