I have been quiet of late.

More so on the blogging front but also in everyday dealings as I have struggled with myriad emotions brought on by the loss of my mum. The quietness has shrouded me like a thick smog, heavier some days than others. I wouldn't call it depression, but a deep sadness and a whirling turmoil within trying to grapple with the meaning of existence, what to hold dear, what to dispense with. What memories to cling on to, which ones to erase.

My mum was a connoisseur of beauty of everything on the home front (a trait I have inherited from her) and as she grew weaker and more fragile nearing her end, the beautiful things she had so lovingly bought, spent days and precious hours pouring over the details of where and how, gathered dust and looked forlorn. Her house took on a neglected look. Her garden and plants she so cared for grew wild and unruly. Its almost as if death signifies not only the end of ones life, but the end of an orderly existence of things and places and emotions. The final curtain falls only to lift to chaos ensuing backstage. Everything breaks lose and it takes a while for things to fall back in order again, for some people, perhaps life never does go back to order ever again.

But I did find one thing to be grateful for and I am sure so did she — the kindness of everyone around those last few weeks and days of her life. The nurses and doctors who attended to her, family and friends who cared enough to call and make the the trip to the hospital. As they stood and talked in hushed tones to her, I am sure she found a lot of comfort in their soothing words. Even if the things she loved the most were not around her in the last moments of her life lying in a hospital bed, the people who loved and cared for her were and their kindness saw her through to the next frontier.

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