THE SHADOW IS CAST – (Memoir series – Story 19)

Can you replace the irreplaceable?

There is no one else in the room.

As I walk into Mummy’s room, this is the first thought that comes to my mind. I don’t remember having Mummy all to myself in a room ever since she returned from the Hospital.

Mummy is sitting up on the bed propped against a pillow. She is sitting facing the entrance of the room. And our eyes meet as I walk in.

Mummy seems less tired today. And I can’t take my eyes off her gaze. I can sense a range of emotions flashing through her expressive eyes. I wonder why Mummy asked for me. What does she want to talk about?

She looks relaxed and prepared to welcome me. Yet I walk towards her with caution and measured steps. I have a feeling that even my footsteps are to be appropriately placed on the floor of this room.

I stand nervously fidgeting with the chair that’s placed next to her bed.

Mummy senses my hesitation and smiles warmly. She gestures to me with her right hand to come near. So I pull the chair closer to her bed.

But before I can sit, she gestures to me to sit beside her on her bed. I have to be careful not to hurt her left hand which is tightly bandaged.

Mummy then waits for me to settle down and get comfortably seated next to her.

She runs the fingers of her right hand through my hair fondly. And I sit with my eyes shut quietly relishing the joyful moment. I am being transported back to when Mummy was healthy and life was wonderful.

It’s been so much time since I have received such attention and care from her.

Mummy breaks the silence and asks how I am doing. How’s school? How are studies? How are my friends?

I promptly give her a rosy picture of everything, hoping she will not ask to see my notebooks. It’s going to be quite a task to explain all those pages of doodling.

Fortunately, she has something else on her mind.

Mummy says there is something in particular that she wants me to understand. Her expressions give me no clue as to what she wishes to say, but I suspect it’s something serious.

As I sit in attention to listen, Mummy says that she would not be living much longer. She says she is going to die soon.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I sit speechless. My world is collapsing into a blur.

I must have looked at her with an expression of blankness because she slowly repeated her words.

How can this be? I wonder. Is there no way the doctors can save my Mummy?

While I struggle in confusion and helplessness, Mummy pulls me gently towards her and kisses me on my forehead and both my cheeks. And I burst out in grief.

Mummy says that she expects me to be brave. And that I must be strong enough to understand and accept that I would soon have to live without her.

I can barely hear her words in between my uncontrollable sobs.

I want to be brave. As brave as Mummy expects me to be. And I want to measure up to the courage Mummy displays.

Yet, my grief is taking the better of me. And I don’t even dare to look at Mummy’s face now.

I don’t want to see her cry.

Mummy holds me against her chest and raises my lowered face and continues talking.

And I am surprised how she can continue to keep a loving smile on her face even when sharing such terrible news.

Mummy explains that Daddy is still young. So he will be marrying again and bringing me a new mother. And this new mother would take good care of me.

She emphasizes that she has already met her, and this new mother is a good woman and would love me as much as Mummy loves me. She affirms that I would be very happy with her.

I don’t understand how I can ever be happy without Mummy in my life. But I’m too shocked to react.

Mummy wants me to promise that I would always be good to my new mother and obey her at all times.

So I obediently nod my head in acceptance while continuing to weep silently.

Mummy waits patiently for me to get a grip on myself. And all through this, Mummy maintains her composure.

It’s as though she has thought this out well and has prepared her mind to strengthen me. Throughout our conversation, not even for a moment does Mummy falter in her confidence and clarity.

We must have sat silently for quite a while. And I am struggling to keep myself from sobbing. Inside, I feel like screaming out my resentment at the injustice that’s thrust upon me.

Then after giving me one more hug, Mummy says she is tired and will talk to me later. All of a sudden, she seems exhausted and in need of rest. I can see that she needs to be left alone.

As I get down from the bed, and walk out of the room, Mummy reminds me to be brave.

“Yes, I will be brave”, I say while wiping the tears burning down my cheeks.