The hardest part about marriage is leaving my mother behind. I always thought we would live together, even in the event of my ever getting married. Best laid plans of mice and women, sadly.
When my father passed away 13 years ago, it became my mission in life to see my mother happy and fulfilled in her remaining years on earth. Her marriage was not an easy one but she was the good wife to the end. She has always done the right thing in her life, and I wanted to do the right thing by her, bringing love and laughter into her life.
These past years have been such a blessing for me for living with my mother has brought me such joy. We are thick as thieves. And we share a common love of flora and fauna. Gardens bring us both much joy, and nothing like shared joy to create a deep bond. We've spent hours, over the years, visiting gardens near and far, enjoying their serene beauty.
But more than all that, no one else loves me unconditionally like she does. No one gets me like she does. No one cares for me as she does. She is my confidant, my biggest champion, my best friend - she is simply, my mother.
My friends always remark I am a good daughter. In truth, she makes it easy for me to be a good daughter for she is a good mother, undemanding, and accepting of all my weaknesses, loving me even when I am my ugliest.
As I journey home to Singapore tomorrow, it is with some measure of sadness I feel that I will return to a new home where she does not reside. And yet, I am also looking forward to spending my life with P.
The Nativity resonates with great poignancy for me this year. The emotions I feel must mirror what Mary and Joseph must have felt - joy at their son's arrival, but mixed in with the joy is also great discomfort at giving birth amidst livestock, far from home; fear, wondering what the future holds for this precious, new life; sadness, at such less than ideal circumstances of birth; and awe, at the choirs of angels singing, joined by the shepherds who came to pay homage.
Perhaps the stained glass windows in Saint Mary's Cathedral in Yangon say it all, life is a series of mysteries where joy, sorrow, glory and luminosity, light and shadow, interplay. I can only be as open as Mary was, and allow Her son the space and time to let each mystery unfold, living in each moment as it comes my way, appreciating its beauty even if I do not quite understand it at all.
When my father passed away 13 years ago, it became my mission in life to see my mother happy and fulfilled in her remaining years on earth. Her marriage was not an easy one but she was the good wife to the end. She has always done the right thing in her life, and I wanted to do the right thing by her, bringing love and laughter into her life.
These past years have been such a blessing for me for living with my mother has brought me such joy. We are thick as thieves. And we share a common love of flora and fauna. Gardens bring us both much joy, and nothing like shared joy to create a deep bond. We've spent hours, over the years, visiting gardens near and far, enjoying their serene beauty.
But more than all that, no one else loves me unconditionally like she does. No one gets me like she does. No one cares for me as she does. She is my confidant, my biggest champion, my best friend - she is simply, my mother.
My friends always remark I am a good daughter. In truth, she makes it easy for me to be a good daughter for she is a good mother, undemanding, and accepting of all my weaknesses, loving me even when I am my ugliest.
As I journey home to Singapore tomorrow, it is with some measure of sadness I feel that I will return to a new home where she does not reside. And yet, I am also looking forward to spending my life with P.
The Nativity resonates with great poignancy for me this year. The emotions I feel must mirror what Mary and Joseph must have felt - joy at their son's arrival, but mixed in with the joy is also great discomfort at giving birth amidst livestock, far from home; fear, wondering what the future holds for this precious, new life; sadness, at such less than ideal circumstances of birth; and awe, at the choirs of angels singing, joined by the shepherds who came to pay homage.
Perhaps the stained glass windows in Saint Mary's Cathedral in Yangon say it all, life is a series of mysteries where joy, sorrow, glory and luminosity, light and shadow, interplay. I can only be as open as Mary was, and allow Her son the space and time to let each mystery unfold, living in each moment as it comes my way, appreciating its beauty even if I do not quite understand it at all.
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