5th August - her birthday

With every roar of airplanes flying overhead,

Every HDB flat adorned with neat rows of the Singapore flag,

“Happy 58th birthday, Singapore” poster hanging on a lamppost,

I can only think of her birthday.

In previous years, it was always a reminder to message my brother to plan a family celebration for her. Last year’s celebration was a buffet lunch that ended in a beautiful family picture where my mum was surrounded by her three beloved grandchildren. She was beaming. It still pains me to think that two months after that, she would breathe her last.

As I stood in front of the tree where we scattered her ashes at the Garden of Peace, and spoke to my mum silently, I couldn’t bring myself to say Happy Birthday. I struggled hard with the phrase “Happy birthday, mummy” that echoed in my head inappropriately.

As I stared at the bunch of flowers I brought for her, featuring her favorite orchids and a protea (to “share” a slice of my recent holiday in South Africa), tied together by little C with a pretty pink ribbon, I pined for her to be next to me marveling at how beautiful they were.

When will this ever be a happy birthday again? On days like these the pain feels raw, the chest hurts and the breathing laboured.

Like her passing was merely yesterday.

As I drove through the blistering heat, with little C in the backseat rubbing my shoulder with her tiny but reassuring fingers, rain started to pelt down. And just as soon as it started, it stopped. It reminded me of my rainbow in the rain, with a slight twist - even in the sunshine there can be rain. But even that will pass.

And right on cue, this started playing on my Spotify. I couldn’t make this up even if I tried.

I love you mummy. Blessed Birthday to you.