"What??" I yell into my phone over the din at the Geylang Bazaar, straining to hear Azie, my cousin's voice, hoping I heard her wrong the first time.
"Kak Norli! She has passed away a few hours ago.." she yells back causing my blood to curl.
..and my mind takes me back to the hospital room where my eldest aunt lay on her deathbed. My 38 year old cousin, Norli, and I sitting on the floor near the door amongst crying aunties, praying uncles and sad-faced cousins and we whisper about my aunt's rich life and that of ours.
Norli shared with me the problems with her marriage and her health issues, peppered with sound advise and a joke or two in between. All I recall was her resigned face when she admitted she could never have children because of polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCO) complicated by diabetes, high blood pressure and a weak heart. But oh how accepting she was of her fate from the many things she mentioned to cheer herself up despite her predicament. And I admired her strength and resolve set in that once-chubby, now-sunken face.
We share the same root problem- she & I. We both are PCO sufferers but I was able to conceive, against all odds. Her untimely death spells the end of her bloodline, her only children are stepkids from her husband's first marriage. As I thanked my cousin and hung up the phone, I looked... really looked... at my 2 girls- Arissa all sweaty and happy in the hot tent of the bazaar, swinging her blinking light stick and holding on to her bigger-than-life giraffe balloon and Sofia, wide awake at 11pm but quietly observing me from her pram- and for the first time in a looong time I whispered a prayer of thanks to God for giving these 2 to me.
God knows I've been whinging so much about how exhausting it had been trying to handle 2 kids alone but I could never imagine a life without them. I really don't want a life where I didn't have Sofia nuzzling my neck when she's sleepy or Arissa hugging me each night like a bolster as she sighs herself contentedly to sleep. Could I be happier if I didn't have to run after a buck-naked and happily screaming Arissa to get her into a diaper or have a bawling Sofia quieten down immediately as I cuddle her and put her to the breast..? As much as I craved my independance, their dependance on me is suddenly shoved under a totally different light- a beautiful, warm, golden light.
Even in her death, I can hear her whisper sensibly in my ear to appreciate all that life has given me because God knows, you'll always be gone too soon. May you rest in peace dear cousin and I thank you for rubbing off some of that strength and resolve on me. Inna lillahi wa inna Illaihi raji'un- To God we belong and to Him we shall return.