Goodbye, Mama.

Two weeks have passed, and it has been extremely difficult. Memories and belongings bring me to tears. My mum peacefully passed away on 27 June 2025, free from pain and suffering.

Her departure was anticipated, yet the reality of it struck with a force that was both shocking and profound. The doctor had informed us just the day before she passed, delivering the somber news with a gravity that felt almost surreal. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death, a truth that we all must face, yet one that is often difficult to accept. In the hours leading up to her passing, I found myself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—anticipation, dread, sorrow, and a deep sense of helplessness. Nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming anguish that washed over me in waves as I sat by her side, holding her frail cold hand. I never realized my heart could endure such pain until she took her final breath, a moment that felt both like an eternity and a fleeting instant all at once.

As we prepared her funeral, I reflected on the life she had lived, the countless memories we had shared, and the love that had woven our lives together. The realization that this was the final chapter brought with it a profound sense of loss that I could hardly fathom. In that moment, as I leaned closer to her coffin, I felt an overwhelming urge to convey everything I had left to say.

Family, relatives, and friends attended the funeral, with some arriving unexpectedly. It was nice to see them, although I wished it wasn't under these circumstances. My mum's closest friends shed tears as they recounted their cherished memories of her. Watching the aunties mourn my mum's passing, it was sad but comforting to know she was truly a very dear friend to them. My close friends, who knew my mum well, cried too. It was incredibly difficult to accept that my wonderfully amazing mother has left us too soon.

I didn't shed any tears today. It feels as though I am gradually coming to terms with the fact that she is gone forever. Each day that passes brings with it a mixture of acceptance and lingering sorrow, a complex emotional tapestry that I find myself navigating. I still haven't packed up her belongings, which remain scattered throughout the house like echoes of her presence. The thought of sorting through her things is daunting; it weighs heavily on my mind and heart.

This process of confronting her belongings forces me to reflect deeply on the nature of life and death. It makes me ponder how, after we pass away, our material possessions become unnecessary, mere remnants of a life once lived. They become artifacts of our existence, stripped of their significance as we depart from this world. It is a sobering realization that the things we hold dear, the items we accumulate throughout our lives, ultimately lose their value when we are no longer here to appreciate them.

Ultimately, the journey of honoring her life while healing is not linear; it is a winding path filled with ups and downs. I must allow myself the grace to experience joy and sorrow in tandem, recognizing that both emotions can coexist. In this way, I hope to find a meaningful balance that honors her memory while also fostering my own growth and recovery in the wake of her passing.