This is the long overdue update on my blog and also my second.  My next article for this blog is actually a work in progress, not done yet, but will put it up as soon as possible.  Anyways, i figured while i’m working on that, I should put something on the sideline under this category.

As the title suggested, this segment of life is about inspiration.  It has been three years since I involved in the reporting job.  It was my first choice, my first job and I have no regrets.  I have big dreams and I believe I am on a right track.

But I am not going to talk about my job.  I am going to talk about somebody, not just anybody, but somebody who inspired me the most in my life.  These three years, I’ve met and interviewed a lot of people.  They inspired me with their unique stories.

Their stories are like mirrors to me.  In listening to them, this dreamer learned to be grateful in her life.  In writing, every word reflects all the things that my beautiful life could offer, reminding me how much I could lose, if i were to continue to be blind in this wonderful world.  In them, I found myself striving to become better.

Different people inspired different aspect of my life.

However, of all that people, the one true inspiration is the woman that God gave me.  My mother.  A woman that need no interviews to inspire me, just her present in the family made all the difference in my life.

I have been living with this woman for almost 26 years, we’ve gone through bad times and good times.

She was the person that stood up for me when I got bullied in school as a little kid.  She took care of us when we were sick.  I can’t recall how many times she used to wake up in the middle in the night to make sure that we were okay.  She changed our clothes when we were down with sweats, gave us panadol and hot milk for us to get better.

Grandma came to stay with us early this year and it had not been easy for us, mainly because she never like the family here.  And so, we felt rejected, or least I felt rejected by my own grandmother.

I remember the feeling of uncomfortable whenever grandma came to stay with us, when we were still very young.  I believe it was sadness and it was a depressing time.  It was all arguing and scolding.  Grandma scolded mom almost everyday, sometimes with no particular reason.  Grandma went spreading around the lies about mom to aunts.  If i were to use one word to describe grandma, I would use the word abuser, because she played with our emotions and our mind.

However, that mind pictures slowly fading away as I grow older.  I’m not sure whether it was too long, or subconsciously, I’ve decided to forget it anyways.  But I remember I was so miserable that time as a child, because of grandma.  I did not quite understand why back then.

I do not have a clear picture now, but I remember that mom suffered the most emotionally.  One time, my sisters and I just got off the school in the evening.  Dad was waiting at the opposite road in the car.  Mom was inside the car too, she was crying.  Grandma was bullying my mom again.

However, years had past and things got a bit better as grandma got older.  Probably it was because we all adults now and we understand the happening in the family.  Probably, somehow she realized something.  Who knows, i don’t know, though I doubt she would admit how much she had hurt us, because she still does.  But, we knew when it would come and we learn to avoid that.

However, due to the pain, that incomplete images still buried in the memory bank and the scars from that deep cut was enough to build a wall between us and her.  Grandma and I do not see eye to eye.  We can’t connect to each other.  And so, since she was here, I hardly talk to her, cause there is simply nothing to talk about.

Mom loves things that grow and beautiful flowers. Her hobbies reflect her heart well.

Despite that, mom, who suffered the most, was the one that did everything for her.  Despite years of lies against her, today, she fixed the diapers for grandma, talked to her, served food for her and so forth, except listening to her grumbles.

Grandma peed her pants everyday and mom was the one that cleaned the clothes for her.  She mopped the floor, clean the bed for her, but at the end of the day, no one would thank mom for her deeds.  No one would know the hell mom had been through.  But I know.  I know the difficulties.  I know because I can’t do it myself.  I know because mom did it while I can’t.

Today, grandma probably is a sad woman.  She missed her family in Kuching, we all see that.  Nevertheless, who would have thought she, who despised mom once would one day asking that same person for help.

I do not know what the future holds, or what would happen to grandma in the few years to come, but mom could just say to her ‘serve you right’ or ‘you deserve what you got’, but she didn’t.

Mom had a choice, whether to help her or not to and she chose the former.  Grandma had nobody to turn to but to mom.  How different it turns out.

There is only one word to describe my mom – EXTRAORDINARY.  Cause that’s what she is.