My Mother

By Jimmy TC Mah

On entering my bedroom after attending my mother's funeral, tears beaded my eyes as soon as I caught a glimpse of my mother's portrait. The portrait which we gave her on her fiftieth birthday, was so well painted that it really looked like she was smiling to me. Running a finger softly on her favourite antique rocking chair, I recalled everything about mother. Mother got married when she was very young and had a happy marriage. But, her life changed since father's demise in a fatal traffic accident. Having my younger sister and me beside her, mother worked hard to keep our stomachs filled and our needs attended to. In times of despair, she struggled hard to vanquish an excess of sorrow and put her attention upon us, the jewels in her eyes. She never blamed or complained to anyone, nor did she shed a drop of tear, although at times she was in dire straits. Mother, in my memory, was always strong and optimistic. She stayed as uncomplaining as a lamb in those difficult days where, during lunch, she did not know where dinner would come from. She believed that there was no point in shedding tears. "Life is not a bed of roses", she used to say and therefore, she struggled on, doing all kinds of odd jobs. Her only hope then was to make sure her two daughters grew up healthily and became "somebody" in future. Our life had not been fulfilling after father's death, but mother managed to meet all the expenses by working hard and being thrifty.
Mother was a beauty after all. Although years of hard work had left wrinkles on her countenance, her beautiful emerald green eyes sparkled like diamonds, revealing her determination and compassion. Her long curly auburn hair had always won innumerous admiration and praises from those who knew her. I had, also, always admired her beautiful hair. I remember once I complained to mother, "Mom, why isn't my hair like yours ? I don't like my straight black hair, it's like father's " "Your black hair is a present from your father, daughter. Your father had left you nothing, except your look, your hair, your very self and your intelligence. Appreciate them, just like I appreciate you," answered my mother. I have learnt to like the colour of my hair ever since.
We inherited a small bungalow from father, and that was all he left for us. Mother worked as a piano teacher, but she did many other jobs to provide us with luxuries which, to others, were mere necessities. Before we could afford a car, she used to take buses to her students' houses. It was tiring, of course, but she never let out her temper on us, no matter how strained and pressured she was. "Energy and hopefulness, like faith, move mountain," was the answer she gave when people around her started to worry about her.
Mother had never failed to fulfil her duty. Every day after she had gotten home, she would prepare food for us and guided us in our studies every night, no matter how exhausted she was. Knowing the importance of education, she paid much attention to our school work and studies. We did not want to let her down, and therefore, worked hard to achieve good results. As a pianist, mother also taught us piano. It is to her credit that we are able to appreciate music and play beautiful piano pieces today.
In her spare time, mother would do some cooking and sewing, She was a genius in cooking and baking; her dishes, cakes and cookies were always mouth-watering and delectable. Her recipes were so unique that, until now, I have not been able to find any cookies that are similar to or taste better than mother's own creations. Mother had so much artistic talents. She loved sewing and painting. When her eye sight was still good, she would take time to make us dresses. She was also a fine artist, oil painting being her speciality. Her masterpiece on country scenery is superb and incomparable in beauty and liveliness. At times, I would regret that I had not learnt nor had I inherited mother's artistic talents. On the walls of my living and dining room are some of her art pieces which I treasure with all my life. The antique wooden rocking chair was one of my mother's favourite items. Whenever she was free, she would sit on the rocking chair, rocking gently and nursing a cup of sweet-smelling herbal tea, while reading a book or listening to the radio. The moment she sat on the chair, she looked so peaceful and relaxed, as if all the tiredness, tension and pressure had gone. Both my sister and I loved to see her so relaxed, as we knew that she needed the rest after a feverishly rushed day had left her drained. Mother loved the old rocking chair because it was a present from grandfather before he passed away. Though faded, the rocking chair still looks solid after all these years as a result of my mother's gentle care.
In our neighbours' and friends' eyes, mother was a humanitarian. She was ever ready to lend a helping hand whenever people needed help and, she never failed to give alms to poor old beggars because she knew what hunger was like. Mother would also give food to stray dogs and cats as she believed that the showing of kindness to animals was an extension of our kindness towards other people. However, when she saw able-bodied beggars, she would tell them off for being lazy. That was my dearest mother whose kindness and generosity had a limit. Whenever she could, mother would want us to do some charity work in the church or the home for the mentally retarded. So, from young, we have inculcated a feeling of compassion for the less fortunate. It is for this reason that today, I am very active in charity work and hold numerous posts in some charitable organisations.
Like any other human being, a kind-hearted angel like mother has to go back to the Lord. In her sleep, mother left us at a ripe age of sixty-five. By then, she had nothing to worry about, as all her efforts had come to fruition; sister and I are successful career-women and we had made our mother's wish come true. Though she has gone, my mother is constantly on my mind and I cherish every sweet and bitter moment we spent with her. I am gratified for all she has done to make me what I am today. My mother is, and will always be, the angel of my heart. Having recalled these reminiscences, I wiped away my tears and emerged from my bedroom, a stronger person.
Comments? E-mail Jimmy TC Mah:mahtc@tm.net.my