Shopping for mum

"What are the shoes for?" the young lady asked.

"They're for... They're for..." I stuttered and struggled to find the words. The words were on the tip of my tongue but they did not dare to escape. Until: "For the deceased."

She did not looked shocked or surprised. Perhaps it's because the store is on a busy street next to two big hospitals. Perhaps she got this kind of request before. "So we have here this kind of shoes made of fabric."
She showed me ones that were for young girls. A bit too flashy and hip for the dress I chose for mum to wear.

Then she showed me another pair, which were more suitable. Black shoes made of fabric with a strap down the middle. They were decent looking. Only shame bit about them was the fact they were made in China...

"There's not much choice, not at this hour..." the lady said. "And it's taboo for the shoes to be worn by someone younger..." I wanted to say that I'm not in a hurry to look for the shoes, and that I was buying them in preparation for mum's passing. I wanted to say it might be very soon. But that conversation only played out in my head. All I did was nod and paid for the shoes.

Together with the pair of white gloves I bought at a fashion accessories store, I headed back to the hospital. The white gloves are another part of tradition, and i managed to some for ladies who want to protect them hands from sunburn while riding motorcycles. The fabric shoes are for mum to wear. They have to be fabric because they will incinerate better. Leather shoes might not completely incinerate, and I was told that you run the risk that part of the body is not completely cremated. That would be just horrible... Horrible...

I have what we need now. With the dress I chose and placed clandestinely in the cupboard in mum's room, we are now prepared for that moment. I took out the shoes again to inspect them and carefully put them back in their packaging and original box. Mum slept and snored a little with her mouth open.

The next time I open the box, mum will no longer be snoring...

Clothes

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I almost cried. It was harder than I thought, and made even harder due to the fatigue I was feeling from the jetlag.

It was so easy the other day to ask mum about what dresses she likes and what she'd like to wear. But rummaging through her wardrobe hit me hard, even though there were two aunties next to me and helping me choose. I knew best what mum likes and what looks good on her. And I needed to choose four outfits for her. One would be bagged and I would have to take with me to the hospital clandestinely. It will only be opened after she passes...

I took out that dress, I knew which one exactly. She wore it first in the summer of 2003, almost a decade ago to attend brother's graduation in London. A black dress with beautiful green embroidery around the waist, to which she liked to add a colourful cape to make brighten the entire attire. She wore it last last year to attend the wedding of her best friend's daughter.
She looks so young and elegant in that dress. The next time she wears it, she will have stopped breathing...

I stroked the dress, felt the soft fabric and tried to contain my emotions. It is hard, so very hard to know next time I see this very dress mum will have gone... How do you deal with that? How can I go about rummaging through her wardrobe without her knowledge, preparing for her demise? All she knows I came home to shower and rest...

But my mind is restless and so very heavy... As heavy as the unusual onslaught of downpour that has caused several deaths and flooding all over the country...

To the dress we added her wig, shoes, socks, and according to tradition we must also prepare a pair of white gloves. more sets of clothes have to be prepared, clothes which will be 'offered' to her by burning them after she passes. But that is for another ritual, which takes place only on the hundredth day of her passing...
How can we even think of that day when mum is still around?

Carefully I bagged the sets of clothes and placed them under mum's bed. One set, the one for mum to change into when that final day comes, I placed into my backpack and planned to sneak it into mum's room.

One more thing done in preparation for that day...