I was 14 and my English teacher applauded my essay. “You should all have a read,” she said. I stood in front of the class holding an inscription of Mother. 10 years later, I write, if not daily every now and then to relive that day. If not for Mother, I may not have been of a perusal. Continuum is birthed today to encapsulate the yesteryears of blogging and to magnify the good that writing has had on me. Today is a beautiful excuse to celebrate a reader – my mother – who has never left a writer through her discovery of verbal marvels.
We were in the car last night and mom told me she read of mother’s day to soon be discontinued from celebration in Malaysia. We sneered. The amplified celebration was always on birthdays. My mom and her elder sister will go all length to commemorate the birth date of their children. None of us was left out. I doubt we each remember the gifts we received every year but I know the education was to understand that an act of giving is worth more than receiving. So are we soon discontinuing birthday celebrations? “Niat kita tu penting,” she said.
Mom teaches. She educates. She brings down the wall that pauses kids from jumping off cliffs. Some of us are afraid of the unknown without inquiring the known. “You should be thankful for the exposure that you have,” she said. On a recent day, she told her students to be ashamed because even her daughter who has no professional background in videography won third in a competition. She was proud. “That is why you and Alia are always pushed beyond your limits,” she reminded.
“They don’t have the privileges that you and your sister have,” she said. We’re all a student who teeters the grading seesaw once. We know how difficult a teacher can be. I had a lecturer in UiTM who only showed up 20% of his classes in one semester. Then I had a teaching assistant who graded Muslim students poorly. How many do we know truthfully teach for the sake of education? How many do we know inspire us to better ourselves and to give back in any way we could? “Syaza, the essay on your late grandmother was so tender I cried,” Rachel wrote to me. Mom was more than proud.
“You’re a good daughter I cannot deny that,” she paused.
“I am your mother and my job to remind you will not retire.”
Thank you mak. The many essays that I’ve written on mothers will never measure up to the time you spent carrying me in your womb, the time you sacrificed to provide me with a wealth of knowledge and the time you endlessly pray for my wellbeing. It may be today that we emphasize on celebrating our mothers but it may be today that God grants our prayers for His grace and blessings on them this life and hereafter.
A special wish to my mak lang, who is a mother more than an aunt to me.
Happy Mother's Day. God bless.
