Graduation day

I called mum. It was one in the morning, one in the afternoon for her. I saw her, she saw me. She looked so thin, and her hair looked somehow as if it had thinned. She looked so ill, so scary, so weak. Her lips moved up and down like fish, as if she were gasping for air. Whatever she looks like, she is my mother, my ex reminded me.

She mumbled something. I could not hear her. She moved her thin arm slowly, and her thin, thin fingers seemed to rub her eyes. She probably had idea I could see her, see her every move.

"I've never once made it to your graduation..." she said again. "Not once..."

"It's just a ceremony..." I said, though my heart wrenched terribly inside.

How I wish mum could be with her, how I wish my family could be with me. I am so fortunate to be surrounded by friends who love me and care about me, who have journeyed from various far away places just to see me and just to be with me on this special day... But I miss my family. I wish I could walk down that podium tomorrow and walk into mum's arms, and whisper to her: "This is for you, dear mother... This is for you..."

Mum turned away and curled up in a foetal position. "I am tired..." she said. Her eyes were wide open, she looked so small, so fragile, so much like a little child. Like a little child I so want to protect and keep away from harm...

"Take care," I said, "Sleep well..."

I waited till brother hung up the phone. But even with the darkened screen of the computer, the image of mum lying there, curled up, thin to the bone and with wide open eyes bulging out o her sockets, stayed with me and haunted me. The tears waited till brother hung up the phone, and then they fell.