Father, I Have Sinned...

There is a movie, entitled "Because I Said So". It's not really a hit in the Box office of whatever hits you may call it, as far as I can tell, because it is darn a boring movie. It was at first, but later on, it just struck me so much that the whole point the entire movie was trying to convey was that, Mothers are always Mothers.

I was trying to concetrate on my studies really, there's a discussion coming up on Monday and I really need to get something done if I don't want to be a mute in front of the group and the co-ordinator. But after the series of depressing events and loneliness for the past week that were not even worth mentioning yet I stupidly blogged it out and let the whole world know I'm such an attention seeking whore, I guess I really need to pull myself together and make sure I do what I need to do. I should've seen how Mum does her work. I should've. 20 years being an unfilial son, and I never noticed what she was until today. She never complains. She never mumbled. She takes in everything thrown at her...


Mum called and asked me about this procedure doctors used to monitor the health level of a person's cardiovascular system. I'm just a 2nd year really, I know nothing much when it comes to all these clinical stuff, and all we were exposed to before were something that were done when the symptoms is already at a dangerously red-light level. She said there's this ad on the newspaper mentioning something about coronary vessels check in the city back at home, and she thought it would do no harm that she went and give it a try. Mum has briefly mentioned to me before this that she feels shortness of breath when she finished some house chores - laundry for example. But I swiftly pushed aside her worry that it might be signs of myocardial infarction. For one, I really don't want her to worry so much about her health, because I know it's not a good feeling to worry about something that doesn't exist. It's not news that she tells me she finds it hard to breath when she reached the 3rd floor at work after climbing those mountain-high fleet of steps, but I somehow noticed she's taking it seriously now.


Why was I so blind before? Mum, of all people, are one of the reasons why I wanted to do medicine. She was definitely the happiest person in the whole wide world when I got the news that I was accepted into a medical school. I knew. I knew. I won't say she was the one that gave me the mindset that becoming a doctor is the most noble job of all, she never did. She gave me the freedom to choose what I want. Accountant, architect, engineer... But she knew all along I never liked physics and maths. She knew all along I liked designs and that architecture was always one of my options. But I decided to opt for something that would really make her and the entire family proud.

For what I know, she now stands high amongst her colleagues having a son pursuing medicine in one of the local universities. Mum was never as proud as she is now, for she never was a university graduate. And she has been bowing all the time, feeling so little whenever she was with those graduates colleagues of hers. Yet I secretly know, she gave up her pride to see us walk with that pride. I owe her. I owe her more than words can say.


Mum grew up during the communist ara. She was the eldest child in her family, and she was the brightest scholar in the entire village. She lived throught the condemn the entire village threw on her and her family when she went off to the prestigous boarding school. Grandma and grandpa stood by her, insisting that it was only fair to treat all their kids equally, and never to live still under the old-fashioned thinking that girls were to stay at home and learnt about houseworks. Growing up in a poor family, Mum lived enough to see what predicaments and difficulties are, and still succeeded in obtaining one of the saluted occupation in the 70s. And she's still the best housewife ever, abling to juggle between work and home. She is a superwoman.


Seeing how Mum grows older and older, I only realized how much we meant to her. I complaint she was annoying when she calls every night. I fretted that she messaged me every morning to see if I reached safely at school. And I never bothered to actually asked how she is getting along. I have sinned, I will be condemned.

When I was in primary school, Mum came to fetch me and sis from school only after she's off work at 4. We would go to the community hall and call up grandma... Mum would talk first and then let me and sis talked to her. We would tell he about all the little good news we had, scoring full marks in spelling test, getting an A for our sentence making, or something more, like representing the school in story telling competition... And I would pass it back to Mum shyly after grandma gave me those warmth praisings... Ever since we moved to another small town following dad's transfer, Mum suffered not able to meet grandma every other weekend like how we used to before we were transferred. And I presume it is even harder for Mum having 2 of her children sent over to West Malaysia, growing up and learning to be independant. And when grandma passed away, Mum cried all night, unable to sleep..

I know whenever I snapped at her, she cried silently, "Why is my son treating me this way? Am I that annoying?"... It was more than a dozen times I broke her heart that for one time, she actually had the stupidest idea of commiting suicide. Yes she had, and it was all because of me... She went to the kitchen and cried her heart out, holding a knife in her hand and looked out of the window. Dad canned me fiercely and made me promise I would never do that again, yet I still do.


I never braved myself to tell her she meant to me... For if it's not for her, I would definitely not be what I am... I was tearing when I'm writing this. I really was. Why am I treating her as if she's controlling over my life when the fact was, she has given me more than what I want? And I failed her again and again... Mum was the best friend I ever have. I would scream to the whole wide world that my Mum is the greatest mum of all, without shame. In those movies when the kid feels embarassed when their mum kissed them goodbye, they have no idea what it was like for someone like me who wished my mum could do as much as kiss me on the forehead. When they left me at hostel two years ago, after I checked in and settled down at the residential college, Mum hugged me awkwardly. It was, as far as I could remember, the first hug I ever got from her. Mum's following the trend, Mum's opening up. And still, I never could be open enough so much as to call her and tell her I love her....

She's the only woman I'll ever die for, honestly. I prayed every time, that I'd be the one suffering than seeing her feeling ill. I'd willingly shorten my own life, if there is ever such a wish, to have her live longer. And there was never once I missed praying to God that, Mum will be happy every single day.

But for what I know, I have sinned for being rude to her...

Here is something for you... I know it's not even suitable to tell you how important you are, but you know I really do want you to be happy...