Snowdrops for Ike

by Jim Brickman feat. Sara Evans

May the angels protect you
Trouble neglect you
And heaven accept you when its time to go home
May you always have plenty
The glass never empty
Know in your belly
You¹re never alone

May your tears come from laughing
You find friends worth having
As every year passes
They mean more than gold
May you win and stay humble
Smile more than grumble
And know when you stumble
You¹re never alone

Never alone
I¹ll be in every beat of your heart
When you face the unknown
Wherever you fly
This isn¹t goodbye
My love will follow you stay with you
Baby you¹re never alone

I have to be honest
As much as I wanted
I’m not gonna promise that cold winds won¹t blow
So when hard times have found you
And your fears surround you
Wrap my love around you
You¹re never alone

PS: For all the people that I love, treasure and cherish always.

I often wondered before you came how I would handle a daughter. Did I want a frilly daughter or a chunky, cheerful child? Did I want her to be an administrator? Or caring? Or both? As it was, I didn’t get any of my dreams, I got a totally unique, totally new, totally puzzling, unpredictable, delightful you.

Sometimes I wish I had the power to make things come right for you. Sometimes I wish I had money enough to give you the things you dream of. Sometimes I wish I had treasures to pass on to you. But I gave what I could - your five bright senses, the world about you. Take what you want, add your own wonder to the sum of all human wonder, and pass on the gift of love.

I’m proud of all your achievements. You’ve worked hard for them. I’m proud of your looks and your intelligence. But I’m most proud of your being just being you. ‘Success’ would be an extra - but you are special to me whatever you do.

No. You are not perfect - and I am sorry that when you were small I sometimes seemed to demand perfection. You are better than perfect. You are a unique piece.

You have to fight your own battles, love. But I’m here in your corner with the bucket and sponge. There are things I cannot stick together, or heal with a hug. Grown up matters beyond my skills. I wish I had some magic that could make such things come right. All I can do is be here. Always.

What do I most wish for you? I wish you love. Romance, yes. But, too, the love of those who lie together in the darkness, talking of times past. The reaching up of children’s arms, the honey-sticky kisses. The butt of a small cat’s head. A dog’s companionable sigh. The reassuring touch, the lighting up of eyes, the sound of a key in the lock. Familiar, loving hands.

I wish you a daughter just like you.

Iris, I will always be there for you, dead or alive. You can always talk to me. You know me well enough to know how I would feel about things. You know me well enough to know what I would say. Next time in the future, if I’m not with you anymore, you can always talk to me still. Don’t worry, I’m always going to be there for you. I promise. Even if I can’t, you know I want to.              - Nisa

     I have a bizarre kind of relationship with my mother. I am her daughter, all right, but after all these years, I am still searching for that understanding of her, and her life. She stood apart from the rest of my family members in many ways.
Sometimes I yearn to have a heart-to-heart talk with her but it doesn’t always happen. Sometimes I find myself talking like her, raising my voice to a point when I suddenly stopped and realized that I am becoming my own mother.

     Throughout my secondary school years, I was in denial about my mother’s love. About the fact that I didn’t have any. I was totally convinced that I appeared to be invisible to her eyes. To this day, we’re mother and daughter having breakfast in the mamak stall without having a conversation during the meal. I wasn’t avoiding to talk to her, but she is only interested in certain things in my life. Like where I am moving to in Newcastle, and if any guy is approaching me. And then her eyes dart away to something distant and remain there. I can almost see the thoughts that run through her mind. About the stuff that she cares more about.

     Whenever I read something about parenting and teens, I always start to cry. Forgive your parents, they say. For they didn’t have any parenting books in their time or they were not financially able to buy one. And it hits me every time. I used to have a tendency to blame my parents for who I have turned out to be but after knowing it was wrong, I began to put the blame on myself. Which is worse. And I started to look at my mom, wishing I was her, that five decades of her life have passed and she’s got 3 other successful children to be proud of.

     It is truly a gift to have such an amazing mom, no doubt. I am always surprised when I learn yet another ‘impossible’ dream that she achieves. She has done a lot beyond imagination. And the fact that this person is my mother is also quite unbelievable to me. However, growing up during the teenage years was especially painful as I failed to discover the connection between me and
her. How I had to write a nice poem about my mother to make myself believe that she did love me. I was 14 then and I had the poem printed in the newspapers and school magazine, just to let the whole world know.

     Only when I have left home to study elsewhere that I feel less burdened about this. It turned out that I have longed to hear her voice every day. Living away from home also helped me feel my mother’s love in a different way. But then, sometimes she refuses to listen to my problems. She claimed that she feels suffocated with all her children’s troubles in the air. ‘My heart was in pain
when you were crying about a badly done exam’, she had said to me. But what other ways can I tell her that I want her to be there for me? The UCAS Personal Statement is really important to get into medical schools and again, I had no idea why I believed that writing about my mom in the opening paragraph will touch the admission tutor’s heart. 

     The presence of a baby in the house brought me back to the past. And I saw my mom all over again when she was young, tending to the baby. But I don’t remember being that baby at all. Life was difficult as both of my parents were working hard to make ends meet with four children to feed and clothe. But I am not satisfied that I don’t remember the gentle touch of my mother’s hands as she changed my diapers, or as she held me close to her heart. I am green in envy that my niece, Allison, got more than I had when I was her age. And my mom is not even her mother. 

     My mother told me once that I had almost scared her to death two times in her life so far. The first one was in 1987, when I was to undergo an operation immediately after a bowel strangulation was suspected. I didn’t have that surgery. The second took place when I was 8, when I had gone missing from school in the late evening. My dad didn’t pick me home when everyone had left so I decided to walk back at night. I had cried for my mother as I attempted to cross streets full of cars, and as darkness fell that it dawned upon me that I might not make it home. Both occasions could have turned out disastrous but I guess I am not quite done learning about my mom.

     Amazingly, at every achievement point of my life, my mom was right beside me when I received my results for all PMR, SPM and A-level. She never told me to study, though. I had thought she never cared. Sometimes I feel that she channels her love into some other forms that will reach me eventually. It just not obvious. Yet. And as I keep on struggling, being the younger version of her, and fearing what will happen in the future, I still find myself crying over little matters concerning her. I don’t know if my crying gets louder only then she will turn her attention to me. But I believe crying like Allison will certainly do the trick. Just that I’ve forgotten how to wail like a baby.

     So I guess I can never reach that full understanding of my mother. Maybe not until I’ve become a mother myself.

One of my dearest friends is leaving
it makes me feel a little empty
when I’m about to be left behind
and I can’t bear to see the moment happening.

How I would give up anything
for the time to go backward
when it was we and us
and now it is just plain me and myself.

Maybe I don’t deserve the presence
Could I have done something wrong
That changed the course of my life
That I am to be on my own this way.

How do I say goodbye
farewell isn’t sweet
it breaks my heart into two
and I’ll only live on memories.

Is the future a better place
Cos the past sure makes me cry
as I think about the good things I used to have
they can’t be mine anymore.

And here I am with the greatest fear
as reality sinks in and deep
Cos I have the scariest person to face
the inner reflection of myself.

Dear Friends,

How do I let you know that I treasure you
and the memories we’ve had
That I do cherish a friendship
especially the one we have
no matter how long it has been
or how little we see each other

How do I let you know that I will never forget you
sometimes I never call, seldom talk
but I always remember the times you held your hand out for me
as the one who was there when I was young
or when I am older
or anywhere, anytime at all
wherever we were.

How do I keep cherished items you’ve given in the exact original state
a bookmark made from the heart
or a note saying I’m glad we’re friends
shining stars folded up in a bottle
a picture perfect painted with little hands

How do I keep replaying the things you’ve said
or the jokes we laughed about in the school canteen
the songs we’ve sung in the mountains
the sights that made us cry
when the rainbow stretched across the sky

How do I relive the moments with you
when I had almost burned my right ear
listening to you on the phone
or when I almost got an arthritic finger
perfecting a song on the piano to play for you

How do I tell you that I wish this would be forever
that our friendship will always remain
as the way I like it to be
but everyone knows I’m quitting being ambitious
so I guess i’ll just say
Hey, drop me a line today.

     How often are birthdays celebrated in the kind of way you hope exactly? Especially the 21st. So much have been said about its meaning. Freedom. Adulthood. Maturity. But I wonder how many of us actually have their 21st birthday turned out right. Well, no one knows what is right or wrong, but
a birthday that makes you feel that it could have been better, is definitely not the kind that you hope to have.

     What is ideal? Some likes it big, extravagant, make-sure-everyone-knows-it type..full of surprises, lotsa balloons flying in the air. With whom? Erm..maybe u’ll say, i’ll celebrate with my friends on the eve..then on the day itself, with family. Geez, it’s good to have a choice, isn’t it?

     And of course there are always the jitters that nobody actually remembers your special day. It’s your birth month, you’ve checked a couple of times. But where are those greetings cards from those whom you care about? Okay, maybe you want to argue that cards don’t mean as much to them, as they do to you. Fine. Erm, what about phone calls? Have they forgotten about me? I guess
this feeling happens every year, not just on the 21st. However, there is this extra emphasis of the ‘greatness’ and the magic of turning 21, making you feel that something special has to be going on, that there are wonderful tidbits in store for you somewhere somehow.

     And when the day doesn’t turn out as well as you hope, it’s like falling into a hole. Where did I go wrong? Don’t I mean anything to anyone? Were you hoping that friends you haven’t seen in a year to send their greetings? Or were you wondering if someone would get you that nice bag u’ve been eyeing last week?

     My 21st birthday was not bad. But it could have been better. I was so lucky that my best friend came all the way from Leeds to Newcastle to spend the weekend with me. I remember dancing some Irish dance steps with her in my room the day. Something else was going on and I guess, only she understood that I wasn’t as happy as I should be.

     I was a perfectionist (maybe still am) and it’s no wonder why I always get disappointed even on my 21st birthday. Maybe what I didn’t realise was that expectations always ruin my mood no matter where and when. I realised that others do not actually need to do anything special just for you. That anticipating something is more exciting than the real thing. That nothing beats just being
with your loved ones. With your best friend. That your birthday, the one day in a year, doesn’t have to be so special that it outshines the other 364 days. That you can also get nice gifts on every other day, not just on special occasions.

     Come to think of it, I actually had the ideal 21st birthday after all. I learnt all above just in a day. The day when I was supposed to be mature, to know that celebration and pressies are not so much of a big deal. If it was the point of reaching adulthood, then I learned a bit of its essence - that you don’t always get what you want in the real world.

     I’m just glad that my 21st is over. I do not need to wait for anything wonderfully surprising to come my way anymore. I am completely relaxed about my next birthday. Let it just be an ordinary happy day =)

     Sometimes I wonder the reason I exist. As I look around me, I can see how things can operate without my existence. I see my brother ringing his customers to remind them to pick up their repaired glasses. I see my mother watering her beloved plants every morning. My dad off to work just like every other day. My second sister catching the KTM trains to KL in a hurry. I can’t see my first sister, but I imagine she must be looking into a microscope right now, thinking why the
blue stain isn’t staining the specimen so well, maybe. But I turn around and see my dog, Ike, who has been waiting at the gate for me from morning to night, just to see me home so I could play with him. Only then, I know the reason I’m here.

     If you believe in reincarnation, then you would understand when I say that I believe I will meet Ike in person someday. That is the reason why I name my blog this way. Look, Ike, I can’t tell you everything about my life because I can’t bark those words out like you do. Sometimes I talk in great details to you but I know you get frustrated at those words you don’t recognise. I know you’re sad I can’t be there for you 24 hours a day. And very soon, I can’t see you for 11 months consecutively. I do sing to you, but sometimes Orkie will join me in the singing, and you know how close he can get to howling his lung out. That will make the neighbours very angry, and we don’t want that, do we?

     So I am really looking forward to the day you’re a real person, when you finally say those words to my face, ‘Jie Jie, Ike sayang’. I don’t know how it’s going to happen, but i certainly hope I live long enough to see a young boy suddenly walking up to me and make me feel that that young boy is you, Ike. Of course, if you know about this then, you will think this is all so crazy. You might say to yourself, ‘I was not a dog!‘, but we all were once some other life forms, desirable or not. And being my little baby doggie, isn’t that lovely? Thank you for
choosing to live with me and I can’t tell you enough how much you’ve changed my life completely. Muack.

     My second sister and I share a loving bond. We understand each other a lot. But there are issues too sensitive to talk about sometimes, causing unexpressed feelings. I was lying next to her in bed, and something had touched us earlier
emotionally so we were quite open about our personal emotions. There is something about talking your heart out without looking at each other in the eye. Somehow, it is easier. After you have released your frustrations, it can be such a relief when the other person admits that ‘I feel the same way too’. That’s exactly what I did. She confided in me. It was already amazing that I understood her feelings, but it was simply unbelievable that I had felt the exact emotion
she had gone through. It was the same event that we had undergone, but I never thought she had reacted in the same way as I did.

‘You know, I never wanted to feel that way. I thought it was too awful of me to be unhappy about this,’ she said. ‘And when I saw you’re doing so fine, I thought it was just me. I shouldn’t feel this way at all’.

     But I told her that she wasn’t alone. I guess I’ve just been pretending quite well that everything else inside is alright when in fact it isn’t. And I’m very glad that we had talked about it. Then i won’t feel so bad to have felt that ‘awful’
emotion. Maybe it’s a normal thing to feel.

     But my sister did not just stop there at feeling awful of her emotions. She went on to see the situation from a different perspective and she claimed that it did not look so bad then. I didn’t go as far. I just kept the feeling hidden inside.
When I found out that she had shed tears over this, I thought I should have cried together with her, instead of on my own.

     Just before I left her bed, she squeezed my hand without looking at me. After that, I quickly type it all here before I lose that special warmth that came over me during that moment of sharing. Back to reality, I had just remembered that Ike was asking for me a while ago ’cause I haven’t been with him the whole day. I guess it’s better to just look forward, treasuring what I have now, instead of crying over things that we cannot change.

I love you, Er Chie. Hope you won’t cry alone anymore ’cause I feel the same way too.

     It was a Monday morning and my brother was struggling to just open his eyes. Lying beside him was baby Allison, waving her hands and kicking her legs in the air - very much awake. The next thing that happened was my brother, pressing his face to Allison’s cheek, taking in the sweet baby scent and giving her a kiss. Looking on was my smiling mother and my sis-in-law. Then I realised the three generations reflected in this image. I didn’t manage to snap that with the camera, but I’ll remember this moment forever - when my brother is finally acting like a father.