milky hair

I had quite some hard moments on how to start this. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning; I’ just finished reading Murakami’s Norwegian Wood again, and I think I can’t sleep. I mean my body was aching approximately 4 hours ago as I’d spent 4 hours on the road en route back to Shah Alam and while I was laying on the mattress I spread on the floor and reading Murakami, I really felt sleepy and I really wanted to sleep. Now one of those thing I can’t stand from reading novels is the insignificant abrupt feeling of attachment to it. Now Norwegian Wood is sad, alright. Now I can’t help myself from having sad moments replaying in my mind over and over again, hence posting up this post.

Because Norwegian Wood had so many deaths I can’t help but to relate to myself. Indirectly. Witnessing death made me felt almost precautious. It’s like I don’t want to see deaths anymore, not inflicted on my family members. Its just its my biggest fear to witness death again especially mom’s.

It cracked me open, splitting me into half to think that mom might be home alone now, made herself only curry Maggie because she was too lazy to cook well that none of her kids are home so why would she bother to cook, nobody is eating anyway. Its killing me inside out to think that mom never had a decent smooth and happy life since she was a little girl. Her dad ran a bicycle shop, with 7 little mouths to feed, what could be spared my mom extra? Plus she’s the second eldest, she was always needed to be tough.

Now that its 7 years since dad passed away, I still have long way to go to make her life easier. I always hated the word ‘pay back’. I mean she’s a mother, she wasn’t expecting any monetary pay backs, if you get what I mean. But if that is in my subject of possession, I would give her all she could have. That handbag she had been eyeing for, that car she always wanted to drive on, that jubah she tried on, that tabung haji book account that probably needed another 10 years to work up and go – anything.

To think that I never made her life any easier and she had never once complained about it infront of me makes me felt fucking bad. She is always the graciest – when I cursed she would just ‘hey mulut tu’ you know, she’s not making a big fuss over it that if I was in her place, I would beat my kid up. But I tried all I could – in simplest ways to ease her, like applied my uni application after spm back then, for all courses in UiTM, because its cheaper than any other unis, so I wont troubled her more to think about my fees.

I just met her the last 15 hours and now here I am, carefully crying without a sound because I miss mommy so much.