I Actually Want To Talk About Someone Else's Mum

I don't think I have much to say about Mother's Day and my mum except for this:

 

This is my mum with a parasol in Bangkok, with a prawn in Ho Chi Minh, and I love her. Sometimes she can be the most frustrating, annoying woman on earth, but I adore her all the same. Having moved away for school, the moments I have with her when I'm at home are all that much more important and special.

This seems to be a pattern that's fairly prevalent, especially among families that deal with cultural and generational gaps and differences between the parents and children. I, and some other friends, tend to refer to our mums as 'Wacky Asian Mothers' because they have this weird way of showing their kids that they care. They nag, as many mums do, but they have this unbearable way of going about it that often drives their children CRAZY. Asian families don't tend to be super close; there isn't any hugging and kissing and I love yous and I used to think of my family as simply a bunch of people who lived in the same house who didn't really share any emotional ties. I've grown a bit since then and I've realized exactly how important my family (immediate and extended) are to me. It's immense, the importance. I even hug some of them now.

This isn't the case for a lot of people, especially not for a particular person and his mother that I think of often. Their relationship was rocky at best and I remember a strong want to disassociate himself from his family (mother, especially). It was understandable as he didn't have the greatest childhood with her, but I often wished that one day, they'd just make amends and get along. For the time that I knew him, they didn't. I got along with her just fine and I could see that her way of going about things really was just a motherly concern masked behind Super Annoyance. I liked and appreciated her, even when she was nagging. I'm not sure if they've ever reconciled their differences, or if they ever will.

She got diagnosed with cancer last summer. To tell you the truth, I don't even know if she's alive right now. I don't think the doctors gave her very long to live and given that he and I don't speak anymore, I'm not sure if I'll ever find out what happens or if it's happened already. She isn't my mother, but the news killed me all the same. She is a mother, a sister, a daughter and a person who lived with intentions as pure as anyone else's. The thought of something similar happening to my mum brings immediate tears to my eyes. I can't imagine living without her.

I'd like to know that he loves her, but I can only think so, even then with little confidence. I know that he wanted to tell her that he did, I'm just not sure if he really said it, I love you. I probably will never see her again, and I'm as okay with that as I can be (which isn't very okay at all). I really do wish I could have seen her one last time, I wish I could have celebrated one more Christmas or birthday instead of just sending her a bouquet of flowers that said nothing, really. More than anything, I hope that she was able to celebrate Mother's Day and know that her children, all of them, love her, even if they never say it.
11:30 pm