Almost a year later, fate would dealt us a devastating blow that snatched our beloved mother away from us.
It was Tuesday, August 18, 1998. As usual, mother would do her morning marketing at the mini-market behind the house. On that day, she had bought some fresh kueh-teow and vegetables to cook lunch. After that, she and father watched their favourite Chinese drama show on TV.
When the show was over, mother felt hot and sweaty and went to take a bath. She was in the bathroom for quite some time, so father called out to her. But, there was no reply. He then tried frantically to open the door but it would not budged. He telephoned brother Chew Tai who came over as quickly as he could. Together they forced open the door. Mother was unconscious and was sitting on the bathroom floor with her back to the door.
Chew Tai called for an ambulance and it arrived a short while later to ferry mother to the hospital where she was warded at the Intensive Care Unit or ICU.
I just arrived home from work that day when I received a call from brother Chew Tai informing me about mother's condition. I went immediately to the hospital and saw several nurses moving in and out of an enclosed unit at the ICU. They had drawn the shades around her bed.
I then realized it was a very serious case. The doctor told me that she suffered a stroke on the back of her head, and they wanted to send her to the Ipoh general hospital for urgent treatment. However, a short while later, one of the nurses waved to the doctor to come and attend to mother. Though her bed was enclosed by the shades, I could see and hear some frantic and noisy activity going on around her. Then, everything became quiet and calm. The doctor came out and told me that mother had succumbed to a stroke and there was massive hemorrhage in her brain.
Mother Lee Mooi died quickly and without pain at 7.50 p.m. She was 75. At that very moment of her death, sisters Sweed Cheng and Suit Meng, who were in PJ, recalled that they felt mother calling out to them. They knew something had happened to her.
When I told father the tragic news, he was overcame with grief. He kept repeating to himself: "You are well this morning. Now, you are gone. Why do this thing happened?". There were tears in his eyes. After a few minutes, he regained his composure, stood up and bravely said: "These things happened without reason. It is all fated".
We did not expect our mother to die so suddenly as she seemed well and healthy. She had not complained of any serious sickness except for her aching joints and legs. We didn't have a chance even to say goodbye. Her demise left such a huge void in the family that we felt lost without her. The nest that she had created all these years suddenly became so empty and cold. The family reunions and gatherings that followed were never the same without her presence. I still recall her caring for us when we were young, and how she struggled to clothe and feed us. She was very thrifty and sacrificed a lot of her own needs so that we could have ours first. She had worked very hard and had devoted her entire life to her loved ones.
Her unreserved love and affection for us made her one of the best mother we could ever wish for. She was also very friendly and kind, and her many friends is a testimony of that.
I can recalled vividly a very touching incident that happened one evening in front of our house in Tupai Road. It was raining heavily, and a young hawker selling wantan-mee managed to take shelter in the 5-foot way of our house. He was drenched and shivered in the cold. Without much thought, mother quickly went into the house, took out one of our tee-shirts and gave it to the young man. It was a spontaneous gesture and a kindly act of concern a mother would do for her children or any young ones.
Her funeral was held on the August 22, 1998. It was just as grand as our grandmother's funeral that happened 43 years ago. Many of our relatives, friends, colleagues and those who knew her came to pay their last respect. Her funeral rites were performed by a group of Taoist priests led by a clansman, Chang Soo Har who is the grandson of a Taoist priest popularly known as "Red Nose" and a colleague of our grandfather.
Our mother's body was cremated at the now defunct Buddhist crematorium at Taman Panglima in Assam Kumbang. Her ashes were then interned at the Wat Phodhiyaran or Buddhist temple's columbarium in Assam Kumbang. One very interesting coincidence that happened during her funeral was that the total expenses incurred almost equal to the total contributions and donations received. She had taken care that her death would not be a burden to us.
Next: 43. After Mother's Death »
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