Remembering an ‘iron lady’

WHILE attending Sunday service one day, my mum suddenly collapsed.

The pastor stopped his sermon. My mum was quickly attended to by my aunt and my sister who is a medical staff, and was rushed to the hospital where she made a miraculous recovery. However, she lost her mobility. She was, otherwise, as sharp as ever.

An “iron lady” who knew no fear always came down hard on the six of us to instill Christian values during our growing-up years. I never once heard her complain about even a mild headache.

Coming back to her recovery, that same year on Christmas Eve, she refused to get up to say the customary prayers to welcome Christmas. The six of us plus her son-in-law and her grandson tried our best to coax her to get up. She said she was feeling very cold, and the Lord was calling her. We were numb with shock and disbelief.

Then suddenly, she got up on her own, clasped her hands in prayer, sang a Christmas carol – and then dropped off to sleep. We thought we were losing her, and decided to take turns to keep watch.

I, too, had a rest after my first watch, and must have dozed off when I felt someone tapping my legs and calling my name. Lo, and behold! It was my mum, offering me my morning tea (a custom she diligently and faithfully practised till she left us). And that calling of my name was music to my ears, the sweetest music I have ever heard in my entire life. My mum was alive and well. What a blessed Christmas gift!

The most telling thing about this unique lady was how she loved her siblings more than her own children, especially her youngest brother who goes by the name of Wilson Richard. Strange as it may seem, that was the truth. And I’m strong in my conviction that her siblings lost more than a doting sister.

Rest in peace, Ma.