she would have been 53 today.
i miss going to malls looking for the weirdest stuff as a birthday present from her most quirky daughter. i don't buy 'practical gifts' for her - i buy presents she won't even look twice to buy for herself! hihi.
i also especially enjoyed looking for whimsical birthday card for her. one that i really like went like this :
on the cover : "mom, you do such nice things for me all these while that i feel really guilty". and she opens the card and sees this : "..but it's a guilt i can live with! happy birthday, mom!"
this is an excerpt from my very old friendster blog, written a few days after my nikah with the wonderful mr. khairul.
it was my third day of being able to tick the box that says ‘puan‘ instead of ‘cik‘ in forms. yes right after my wedding reception in ipoh.that morning started out beautifully. we were going to visit mak’s grave. i said to him, "it is the perfect time." i went outside to cut some pandan leaves while he filled a bottle with water.told mak keh and tokchik who were buzy fixing breakfast in the kitchen. "alhamdulillah. go take some of the roses in your room, pluck out the petals and spread it across the grave later." in perfect utara bm of course! on the way out i picked up two Yaasin and off we went. my husband drove. i showed the way. upon arriving he seemed impressed. "this is one clear, clean and not at all murky and gothic graveyard."i can see mak’s grave even from the side of the road where we parked our car and a feeling swept over me like waves hitting a lonely beach. i miss mak so much. we walked slowly towards the graves. as i said my salaam to the ahli kubur.however, i was not the least bit sad; but rather happy to have brought my husband, and glad to be near mak. i was carrying the pandan leaves in one hand, and the tupperware of white rose petals in the other, while my husband held the bottle of water and both Yaasin.we sat on two of the three stone stools made of bricks right beside mak’s grave. i plucked out little parasitic plants resting on the grave. my husband followed suit. there we were, pulling out little leaves poking out here and there until the surface of mak’s grave has nothing but the white marble stones.and then we started reciting. my husband’s voice, calm and so beautiful to hear. it was low, and soft - but i heard it. i experienced a sense of serenity as we recited together; slow and steady til the end. it was a most wonderful, rewarding moment especially since we sedekahkan to mak.upon finishing, i stood up and spread the white rose petals on the grave. we placed the pandan leaves across mak’s grave as we recited the Al-Fatihah and topped it off with pouring the water.i placed my hand lovingly on mak’s gravestone before leaving her grave as my husband looked on. we walked slowly back to the car, and he took my hand, held it tight - an assurance that he would always be there for me.our gentle gestures spoke; without uttering a single word.* * *later, much later, i asked him, "how do you feel, going to mak’s grave?"with a slight nanosecond pause, he answered, "..calm."sigh.i did not cry at all at the grave. my husband was there. and always will be. God willing.dont worry. he will take care of me now, mak.
read about my tribute to my mak here.
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