At the courthouse

"Say again? You don't have much more what?" asked the public notary, as she flipped through the pieces of paper on her desk.

"Don't have much more [time] to live," mum said quietly. When I heard that, I was puzzled again where she got that idea from. I don't think any one ever said that to her in so many words.

"But you look so well! You look healthy!" the notary exclaimed.

Mum looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and shook my head, mouthing to say "There you go again, thinking and imaging the worst..."

We sat for a while together with the public notary, who read through copies of mum's handwritten will carefully. She was a friendly and chatty lady, who was very supportive and understanding. Mum explained her condition, and why she was interested to get all this done 'just in case', like so many people we have come across, the notary could not believe that mum is ill or think that there is anything wrong with her.

Of course, deep down inside, the cancer seems to be spreading, and this morning was the beginning of a series of tests to see how advanced her illness is. The coming few days will be filled with more visits to the hospital, more testing, more waiting...

But from the outside, at least on most days, mum still radiates a sense of vitality that looks and feels just as normal as any other person on the street. I often remind mum of that, and tell her not to think or imagine things are so terrible, because really, I have seen cancer patients who are much worse off... And mum is no where near like that. Like often before, I patted her on the back, encouraged her, comforted her, and told her not to think or worry too much (though, admittedly, I do the same thing...) "Just live happily everyday and take every day as it comes..."

We walked out of the courthouse, and mum had a smile on her face. "Another thing on my mind that has now been done," she said. Together, we went to the bank, and placed copies of the will in a safety deposit box. Inside the box, there were pieces of jewelry. Nothing really fancy or valuable, but they are family heirlooms that have passed on from generation to generation. It was fascinating to hear little stories and anecdotes, and to hold before me rings and amulets that my grandparents (and perhaps even people before them) have personally worn and touched.

I slowly placed the deposit box back where it belonged, and closed the little door with a 'click'. My fingers lingered a few seconds on the door, my finger tips touching the coded number of the deposit box.

In my mind, I thought of the next time I open this box, for mum may very well no longer be around....