Thinking of them

Father passed away on 25 January 2013 at the age of 101.  Mother went back to her Maker 15 years earlier on 9 August 1998 at the age of 85.  I cannot help not thinking of them, every now and then, particularly on days when I feel under the weather.   Sometimes I close my eyes and think of my teenage days when both of them were young and when we as children had not a care in the world.   Over all, we had  a good time as a family, and all 5 of us were well cared for and given good education, although at times like all families,  there were hardships and sometimes unhappiness.  Thank you father and mother for taking care of us and going through all the thick and thin as a family. 

One of the bougainvillea plants I took from father's house (after his death),
and nursed back to health.  Considering that no new plants had been added
to the garden in father's house since mother passed away, then this plant
must be at least 16 years or most likely older

She took care of us the best she could

Today's WhatsApp message between my Brother who lives in Melbourne and my Sister who lives in Malaysia:

Brother's message to Sister:  "Wan Lan - do you remember how to cook Ah Poh's roasted pig skin with pineapple soup? 

                                     
Sister's reply to Brother:  THou, it is not a soup. It is a fried dish with some gravy. You fry some garlic, put in the pineapple pieces and fry. Add a bit of water and let it simmer for a while. When pineapple is soft put in the soaked skin pieces.  Add salt, tomato sauce and cut red chillies and let it simmer.until the skin is soft enough."  (Later this version of the recipe was disputed by  Brother.  In the end he cooked his own version of how he thought Mother cooked and he said it turned out almost similar).

After so many years our taste buds still yearn for Mother's cooking.  Even though we did not have a lot she took care of the family the best she could.

Brother sent this picture of his final product

Her absolute devotion

Several days ago when my youngest brother who is a doctor told me that the juice of papaya tree leaves could be an alternative medicine for cancer treatment, it reminded about the many times I followed my Mother when I was a little girl to collect a herb which grows at the fringes of secondary forests.

This herb was supposed to be able to cure diabetes. She would painstakingly collect the herbs in enough quantities, wash them very carefully and boil the herbs with meat over slow charcoal fire.  I would sometimes help Mother to stir the mixture.  The end result was a soft green paste which she gave to Father.  My Father was then a diabetic.  At that time in the 1950s we were staying a a small outback town (Parit Buntar) and Father had to travel to the  state capital once a week to get his insulin injection. Miraculously he was cured and as far as I know, Father had not suffered from diabetes from then on.

This story is not so much about the herbal cure for diabetes.  Being only a little girl then I do not even remember what the herb looked like.

This story is about Mother's devotion and sacrifice. Every time before she fed the herbal mixture to Father, she would first take about half a bowl and wait for about an hour or 2.  I asked her whether she had diabetes too.  What she said to me I could not forget for the rest of my life.  She told me she was just eating it first to make sure the herb is not poisonous because she could not be very certain that she had picked the right herb.  What if you die, I asked her.  She said "between Father and Mother, it is better Mother die because Father can earn money to bring you up whereas Mother cannot".