My mum passed away last Sunday in the middle of the night. She went alone while I was asleep.

When I ran over from my bedroom, my dad and brother were already there, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking, calling out ‘Ma, Ma’. I looked very intently for any slight breathing. I placed my ear next to her nose and waited for a moment, but nothing came. I did smell the powder I put on her neck a couple of nights ago. It was lavender. And then I sat up and said, “She’s died.” Habitually, I rubbed my mum’s back and then stopped because I know she’s gone.

My mum was diagnosed with ovarian cancer 5 years ago, and things never got better for her. Within these 5 years, she had 2 major operations, 2 sets of chemotherapy sessions, 1 radiotherapy, numerous stays at the hospitals and thousands of pills swallowed. My whole world revolved around my mother and I want to make sure that she had nothing to worry but to feel better everyday, but she just never did. Before she became bedridden, I would accompany her for checkups at the KK hospital, and when the wait at the lobby grew long, she would lay on my lap and rest. And when the stairs became too tiring for her to climb, I carried her. There are so many memories with her that I think I can still feel her skin.

The worse period of her illness was when she had an infection on her lower left back. The tumors were mutating so badly that the doctors had to cut an opening to allow the pus to flow out, to avoid swelling. We attached a stoma bag to collect the dark yellowish discharge every now and then. And soon, the opening became so infected and big that we couldn’t attach a bag onto the wound, so we changed to gauze and bandages. There was once I could actually see her insides and the discharge was almost black. I remember looking at my mum and said, “It is ok, I will take care of this.”

She also had a stoma bag attached to her small intestine at her abdomen, where the surgeons cut a hole to allow waste to bypass the colon, again to avoid complications near the tumor area. I used to change it every 3 days before we engaged a maid. And every time I was cleaning it I would tell her that it is getting better, even if it wasn’t. How do you sleep well with 2 bags attached to your body, front and back, and with all that pain?

I know I shouldn’t, but I blame myself for not staying up with her that night. I came home at midnight, and stayed with her until 2:40am. I noticed her looking at me; she blinked and looked away. I massaged her arms and sat next to her, rubbing her back. After a while my father came in and slept next to her. I left the room and left without saying goodbye.

12 October 2008 5.00am