Her voice echoes in my ears. She calls out my name as she chases me. A glass of milk in her hand. She fears that I may fall down and hurt myself.
Her muffled tone that tried to talk to me.
Her touch is unforgettable. Those bony, wrinkled fingers that pat my back. Her hands that hold mine and draw a cross and bless me every morning. That wipe away my tears in those numerous cranky moments.
Her hands, that tugged me and stopped me from leaving.
Her lap where I spend my toddler years. Where I am fed every meal in my parents' absence. Her bosom, where I hide in fear. Those comforting hugs and warm caresses.
Her body, immobile and bedridden.
Her eyes, of which I am an apple. They way they dote upon me. The eyes that always watch out for me around the house. They have seen me grow.
Her eyes that failed to recognize me.
Her face, serene and peaceful. Those features that I have inherited. Her beautiful countenance and looks. I look so much like her teenage years.
Her face, tear ridden, wrinkled and sorrowful.
I am sad. I wanted you to see me do all that you did for me.
I am happy. You are in His care and happy. You are free from your sufferings.
I know you are still watching me, guiding me from up there.
You are with me always and love me a lot and...
yet, I miss you a lot Mai.