Dearest Mak

Dearest Mak,

Its been 15 days since you went home to Allah. I pray He has placed you among the righteous and pious. So many people prayed the same for you, Mak. So many people wept over your passing. So many people fell over each other to care for you. That just goes to show how much you were loved. I don't think its possible for me to ever stop loving you.

Before there were anyone else, there was just you and me. I remember fondly how you cared and loved me. Despite everything that happened in between the years, there was nothing that you did that made me feel unloved by you. 

From you I learned how to be a strong, independent woman who won't take shit from anyone. You taught me so many things but you didn't teach me how to live without you. I feel your presence in my life after your passing. Somehow, I also feel Wan's presence in my life too. 

Mak, you were there to witness how your brother treated me. When your brother shouted at you and I defended you, I was shouted at also. When you were taken away from under my care, they broke me. I kept remembering how you once told me about your dream where your sons planned to place you in a nursing home. I was so traumatised when I was told you were on your way to a nursing home with the hired caregiver. No one pacified me. And they did that on my birthday! I didn't even get to celebrate my birthday with you. I was so broken until I had suicidal thoughts and trauma. I thought of jumping in front of a speeding car to end all the turmoil I was experiencing. Jasmene was quick to take me to see my psychiatrist who then prescribed me some added medications to help me climb me from the darkness. Of course they don't really understand or empathise with what I was experiencing coz its not as obvious as cancer. Sometimes I wish I had cancer instead of major depressive disorder and complex PTSD.

My psychiatrist advised me to move out of the house urgently because he said I won't be able to heal for as long as I was living in a very toxic environment. So, Jasmene acted fast in securing a condo for us to move into. Coming up with the deposit for the condo was such an insurmountable challenge that I had to beg and borrow to just afford the moving. As a result, the house was left behind like a crime scene. 

When they took you away from me, everyone went silent and no one communicated with me, Mak. I didn't know they were gonna move you back into your own home. And honestly, I had no means to even pay for a cleaner to clean the house. The house was just too expensive for me to afford continuing living in it.

Mak, I have done everything that you wanted me to do: move into your home and take care of you as your health declined. When you were living with me and my family, we had a lot of laughs and plenty  of happy memories. Caring for you during COVID-19 was made easy by Allah when I was able to withdraw money from my old age fund with which I spent a significant amount repairing the house and buying your necessities. I don't have a single guilt nor regret because I know for a fact that I went above and beyond my capacity as your primary caregiver during the lockdown years.

Mak, I can hear your voice giving me the same old advice: "Do the best you can and if that's not good enough to others, tough luck!" I also hear Wan's voice saying what he said to me years ago while we were in London. He said, "You do good for the whole of your life and people won't remember it. But when you do one thing wrong, they will remember it for the rest of their lives." How poignant, isn't it? People are so quick to judge how I was responding to their manipulations and toxic abuse. People are quick to judge me for something they aren't willing to endure themselves. So I left.

With your passing, the tug of war that involved ugly dramas has ended. Along with it goes the bond that lasted as long as you did. I have ended it by withdrawing myself from that family. I wish I could've died with you, Mak. The pain of losing you is indescribable.

HAJJAH NOORAZAH BINTI AISHAH

30.09.1943 - 30.05.2022

AL FATIHAH

"I Want To Go Home To My Father."

Today was very challenging to Mom. She was restless and anxious. She kept saying "I need to go home soon." as she caressed the side of my face with tears in her eyes. Regardless of how many times I explained to her that she is home, that she's living in her own house, she insisted that she needs to go home. "I am old now", she said, as she wiped the tears off her eyes.

Ater a few minutes of me in the bathroom, I came out to find that she had changed her clothes from the home-wear kaftan I had put on her after morning shower into a pair of baju kurung; as though she was ready to go out. She was pacing the compound of our home restlessly. This spurred me to do a little research by googling "what to do when alzheimer's patient looks for deceased parent"

I came across an article titled "3 Tips When Someone With Dementia Wants Her Mom or Dad." It went on to explain the following:
"Think of the young child who wanders off in the store. All of the sudden, she looks around and begins to cry because she's lost and doesn't know where her mom is. While we don't want to treat a respected older adult like a child, it can be helpful to remind ourselves that this lost feeling is similar to what they're experiencing."

I met her at the main door and persuaded her to come in. She said, "I want to go home to my father's house." My heart broke into a million pieces. I coaxed her into sitting on the sofa with me. As I held her hands in mine, I looked deeply into her eyes and said," Mom, grandpa passed away 8 years ago." Her eyes reflected the abyss of unspeakable loss.

Ever since mom lived with us, I have been applying all the knowledge I have in psychology and putting into practice the caregiving skills I had acquired over the years. I have seen how Behavioural Therapy such as classic conditioning and positive reinforcements have shown a reasonable amount of improvement in mom's behaviour. Currently, I am also using Reality Orientation in Alzheimer's and Dementia. It's an approach where the environment, including dates, locations, and current surroundings, is frequently pointed out and woven into the conversations with the person. Reality orientation, when used appropriately and with compassion, can also benefit those living with Alzheimer's or Dementia.

The tools for reality orientation aim to reinforce the naming of objects and people as well as a timeline of events, past or present. This typically involves:

• Talking about orientation, including the day, time of day, date, and season
• Using people's name frequently
• Discussing current events
• Referring to clocks and calendars
• Placing signs and labels on doors, cupboards, and other objects
• Asking questions about photos or other memorabilia

I am pragmatic enough not to have much expectations regarding the impact of the above on my mom considering that she is already at a late stage of Alzheimer's. Yet, I refuse to simply just give up on her as how she never gave up on me when she was teaching me the basic skills in life.

I made a few phone calls to mom's cousins and got them to speak to her on the phone. Perhaps she is looking for familiar faces. Perhaps she is looking for past connections. After all, I truly believe that connections are like bread crumbs that leads us back home when we are lost.

It's okay, mom. No matter how lost you may be feeling right now, I got you. And I will always be your one and only daughter. May Allah bless mom with syifa, always. 

My Motherless Mother

More often than not, I am known for being my father's daughter. The world doesn't know how much more significant the influence of my mother, Noorazah Abdul Aziz, has on the making of who I have become today. Let me begin by telling her story.

Her mother died of pneumonia when my mom was barely three years old. With a brother who is a year younger than her, the duo was the center of a tug of war between two sets of grandparents who are as opposites as chalk and cheese. With a father who was obviously grieving over the loss of his wife and pressured by his own parents to agree to an arranged marriage, we can only imagine how it must be like for these two children back in 1946.

My mother suffered multiple abuses at the hands of those who were entrusted with her care, namely her father's wife. As they couldn't have children of their own between them, they adopted several children, starting with my grandfather's wife's niece. And while these adopted children were cherished and treated with the best, my mother, on the other hand, was treated very poorly, to say the least. Being married to my father wasn't a bed of roses either. Survivors of narcissistic personalities will tell you how their wounds are life long and a never ending trauma.

She showed me how a strong single mother looks like when she singlehandedly brought up my brothers and I after my father divorced her in 1978. She did it with almost no child support from my father. She pawned and sold her jewelry to afford medical care for us and thought nothing of it. She made her life decisions with our best interest at heart.

Thinking back on what my mother had gone through from her early childhood into her middle adulthood, its no wonder she has stage 6 Alzheimer's disease now. It began with a mild stroke she suffered when her father passed away in 2012, followed by several falls. I believe it is Allah's mercy upon her to help her live the remaining years of her life with no traumatic memory whatsoever.

You will find that all the above paragraphs contain repetitions of the word "suffer." The above story wasn't written with the intention to paint a bad picture of anyone. It just so happens that my mother's experience with all those involved in her life were not materials of happy memories.

As I look towards 2020 with my mom, caring for her as how she did me; being patient with her as how she was with me; I feel honored and blessed with this golden opportunity to be there for her in ways I hope my two daugthers will be for me. I am eternally grateful to both my brothers for taking care of mom during her decline, which I believe, must be the hardest phase of all. As they continue to support me in my caring for my mother, I cherish the bond between my brothers and I, something money can never buy. My mother does not need fame and fortune to validate how much she has given in the name of love and loving. In my eyes, she is my true superhero and her super power is resilience. May Allah continue to bless her with the best of dunia and akhirat. Ameen.