My beautiful sister passed away last year in Seattle. 22 August 2013.
Growing up, I alternatively loved, hated, worshipped, feared and envied her. She was the golden child. The beautiful (there’s no comparison really), the glamorous MAS stewardess, the beauty queen, the TVC talent.
Makcik-makcik have always done the ‘sorang lawa, sorang pandai’ route.
I have always been insecure by the comparison. It was only as adults that I realised she was affected too. “You are so clever, sis . I’m uneducated”
Growing up, we weren’t friends. She was the garang older sister, I was the crybaby brat.
After her second divorce, I was the only one she confided in. I was the only one who knew the real reason. We became friends since. We’re both adults coping with an indifferent mother. We both had to make our own way in life because the parental support wasn’t there.
We’re chalk and cheese. She was a proper lady, doesn’t even swear. We were into different things. She doesn’t even know who Robbie Fowler is:)
But we were as close as two sisters can be. Nothing is sacred. Not even sex. I learnt about (how to achieve) female orgasm from her.
But I was still a brat. Didn’t even send her off at the airport when she migrated in Dec 2011. Because I didn’t want her to go. Plus I couldn’t face the barrage of irritating relatives.
I regret that so much. She left with colon cancer stage 3. I shouldn’t have been so selfish.
We did have our private goodbye though. Just the two of us. Dinner and a long chat. Light stuff though. No heart rendering stuff.
That was the last time I saw her.
She’s always been positive around me, doing the older sister act. So eventhough she was on chemo 3 days/week, it was always, ‘Don’t worry. I’m ok. I’m getting better.”
We keep saying we miss each other and we will meet again. Either me going there, or she coming back. But I was broke, starting over again after a failed venture.
And she doesn’t look sick at all. She still looks like Kak J.
A few weeks before raya, came a heartwrenching email. It was then I knew she was dying. Because for the first time since her diagnosis, she didn’t pull the ‘Don’t worry. I’m ok.’
I took a proper look at her pictures and saw the difference. Others would say she still looks the same. But I knew.
Here’s the thing. She never told Mom that she had cancer. I respected her wishes.
But when I knew she was dying, how could I not tell Mom? She deserves to know, to pray for her golden child.
So I told Mom that Kak J was dying on the eve of Raya. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. She was cooking and didn’t seem to react.Later I found out from a cousin she rang her to find out what the story is cause I was crying too much to make much sense.
That night she told me that a few weeks earlier she dreamt both Tok Wan and Yennayenni Grandma came over to tell her, ‘We’re taking J back with us.”
Growing up, I alternatively loved, hated, worshipped, feared and envied her. She was the golden child. The beautiful (there’s no comparison really), the glamorous MAS stewardess, the beauty queen, the TVC talent.
Makcik-makcik have always done the ‘sorang lawa, sorang pandai’ route.
I have always been insecure by the comparison. It was only as adults that I realised she was affected too. “You are so clever, sis . I’m uneducated”
Growing up, we weren’t friends. She was the garang older sister, I was the crybaby brat.
After her second divorce, I was the only one she confided in. I was the only one who knew the real reason. We became friends since. We’re both adults coping with an indifferent mother. We both had to make our own way in life because the parental support wasn’t there.
We’re chalk and cheese. She was a proper lady, doesn’t even swear. We were into different things. She doesn’t even know who Robbie Fowler is:)
But we were as close as two sisters can be. Nothing is sacred. Not even sex. I learnt about (how to achieve) female orgasm from her.
But I was still a brat. Didn’t even send her off at the airport when she migrated in Dec 2011. Because I didn’t want her to go. Plus I couldn’t face the barrage of irritating relatives.
I regret that so much. She left with colon cancer stage 3. I shouldn’t have been so selfish.
We did have our private goodbye though. Just the two of us. Dinner and a long chat. Light stuff though. No heart rendering stuff.
That was the last time I saw her.
She’s always been positive around me, doing the older sister act. So eventhough she was on chemo 3 days/week, it was always, ‘Don’t worry. I’m ok. I’m getting better.”
We keep saying we miss each other and we will meet again. Either me going there, or she coming back. But I was broke, starting over again after a failed venture.
And she doesn’t look sick at all. She still looks like Kak J.
A few weeks before raya, came a heartwrenching email. It was then I knew she was dying. Because for the first time since her diagnosis, she didn’t pull the ‘Don’t worry. I’m ok.’
I took a proper look at her pictures and saw the difference. Others would say she still looks the same. But I knew.
Here’s the thing. She never told Mom that she had cancer. I respected her wishes.
But when I knew she was dying, how could I not tell Mom? She deserves to know, to pray for her golden child.
So I told Mom that Kak J was dying on the eve of Raya. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. She was cooking and didn’t seem to react.Later I found out from a cousin she rang her to find out what the story is cause I was crying too much to make much sense.
That night she told me that a few weeks earlier she dreamt both Tok Wan and Yennayenni Grandma came over to tell her, ‘We’re taking J back with us.”
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