her final moments

It was pretty overwhelming. I missed The Hypochondraic today as my dad called me to say that my mum was in a critical condition. So both of us rushed to Assisi Hospice, where my mum had been living in for the past few weeks.

In case any of you don't know, she's contracted liver cancer, and by the time she got diagnosed it was already too late. It was at the terminal stage already.

I hadn't caught a glimpse of my mum since last Friday, so today I decided I should again because I would never get to see her again if I missed the chance. I went there earlier this morning (but didn't enter the ward) and I went again this evening at 7.00.

She was lying there, unable to speak a single word. In case any of you don't know why, the liver has stopped functioning, and (I'm not a bio student, but I'll explain it as best as I can) the poisons that are generated by the body are not being expelled out of her body.

As such, the poisons have entered her bloodstream, and slowly impaired her brain and thought.

Now for all of you out there who are reading this, I don't know how you're feeling now, but this is all real. So yes, your friend here is currently facing an impending death in his family.

So when I went into her ward today, she was unable to recognise me, and her breathing was extremely laboured. So I heard the heaving and her laboured breaths - each single breath she took, felt so labouring. Her eyes were flipped upwards, and her eyelids were half-closed. And her skin tightened around her skull.

I talked to her a little, telling her I was Jonathan Shin, her son. If she still did remember - (she can't recognize anyone as of now) - however I'm very sure she lit up, whether she's angry that I came, or that she was happy. My psychologist cousin told me that she was probably having some memories switched on.

I told her loudly that I was Jonathan Shin. And that I was a pianist. And that I was her son. And that she went for my concerts, and she watched me perform. I told her I would work hard and she didn't need to worry.

Of course by then my tears were following already, as of all the relatives who were over there. They were crying, and asking my mum whether she heard me. She was making unintelligible sounds, and she clearly laboured to say something. Well she didn't get to say it though - it was now simply hopeless. Her lips were now chapped and faded - and she could not close her mouth; something like my uncle, who also passed away from liver cancer.

I told her I would work hard and that I would get a proper job. And that she always told me that on Mother's Day she didn't want any presents except that I got good results. I assured her I would - something that I've been trying to so hard to achieve.

I can still remember her face - the painful expression, the inability to recognize anyone, the blank glance. It was completely different from Friday when I saw her. At least she was still able to order and scold my dad around. Today she was entirely weak.

Nearing the last few moments of her life.

There've been many ups-and-downs for our relationship. I wouldn't mention much here - one should learn how to forgive and forget. Someone who was once so decisive and strong, had now become weak and a faint memory. Something so powerful - now lost.

I feel satisfied. I've told her what I would have done.

I feel a little pain though.

Trying to really hang in there, with every single breath she took. Every breath she exhaled a loud heave. Staring into the space, now a movement from a hand, now giving up.

I stroked her hair, and it felt really smooth. I've never stroked my mum's hair - she wouldn't have allowed me to. Well this time I did. It's probably the only time I got to anyway.

I think she teared a little bit. Just a little bit though.

I don't want see my mum suffer anymore. She's had quite a life (some really good points in my life where we shared with each other, and sometimes when I really become a jerk). When she passes away she'll get to somewhere better I hope.

Somewhere where she can breathe freely and taste orange juice.

Somewhere where she can be relieved from all the shit I've been giving her, but where she can watch my concerts somewhere from above.

Somewhere where she is free from worries and troubles.

Thanks mum, for the past 15 years. I'll use what you've taught me to the best I can.