One Year On ... Dec 2010

On 10 Dec (Friday), I was in Israel. I learnt in psychology class about Elisabeth Kubler-Ross model of grief: that people can experience denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance during the grief process (not necessarily in that order). I experienced it first hand since 10 Dec 2009. That evening after work, I was with some classmates at Sunbeam Children's Home, exploring how we could participate in a project that might help the caregivers of these children. Mid-way through, I received an sms from Ee Peng to check my email. Then Jenni called after receiving similar sms, as she was also outside. Told her to ask Charlie to check email instead. Charlie called to say that Leonard has been involved in a road accident and cried over the phone as he revealed that mom has passed on. I excused myself immediately and drove home straight. I cried all the way home with fleeting thoughts that bombarded me non-stop: what happened? a serious collision? what about the other passengers? was there an animal? a kangaroo? maybe Leo was in a blurr, mom was just injured, mom has high pain threshold.. she will make it, what did Leo do? did he tried talking to mom? Were they speeding? What thoughts crossed mom's mind while waiting for help? Etc, etc, etc. In one night, I experienced denial, anger and bargaining.

Upon reaching home, Ronald asked what happened and I could only say "computer". Calls to other siblings followed. Apart from the email, no other info was available. We just had to wait. Family meetings at Ong Lye started the next day... as information trickled in and key decisions had to be made. Everyone rallied to get things done as there were suddenly so many things to deal with, while our grief was temporarily kept in abeyance. I remembered the call from Michelle and our decision that she need not return. What followed was our descent upon Jess’s home – to attend the funeral in Perth.

Post-memorial, I experienced recurrent sadness that was triggered easily by mere thoughts of events involving mom: at my hospital bed when I delivered Michelle, she lying on my sofa watching the Taiwanese serial, on the bed in my guess room nursing her blue blacks after her knee operation, at the sight of her studio apartment at Ang Mo Kio, her vomiting post-surgery at SGH ward, etc. I cry spontaneously when I drive alone in the privacy of my car while driving in public. It happened again on mother's day during church service.

Months on, I still wonder (even though I know these wonderings are pointless at the rational level) whether it would have made a difference if:

- she had bought the flat at block 203 (she liked it so much)

- I had insisted on knowing her plans in detail (she last said Leo had arranged for somebody to fetch to airport)

- one of us had brought her elsewhere

- I had spent more time hearing her out, the list goes on...

The cycle of thought would usually end with a reminder that she has passed on and that is an unchangeable fact. No matter what I think or do will not make any difference now. I comfort myself with thoughts that she is in a better place, that her passing was quick, that she has lived well, that she was happy up to the eve of her death. So, this private process of straddling between sadness and acceptance continues. Only time will heal and the intensity of emotions will lessen slowly. This is how grieving goes, I suppose.

For info on grief and loss, see link:

http://helpguide.org/mental/grief_loss.htm