February somehow has a totally different feeling for me now. It is the month I had Marisa and Mazhar. It used to be a month full of planning what to do, what cake to buy and where to eat eventhough it is usually celebrated just among the six of us. We celebrate birthdays at a small simple scale and that's usually lunch of their choice and an ordered cake of their choice. The only time the kids did have a surprise party was on their sixteenth birthday. Realising how mundane their birthdays are the only time i would actually plan a party for them is on their sixteenth birthday .
Mazhar will be turning 18 tomorrow. My only son that was born at 36 weeks at 2.48kg. He was tiny and slightly jaundiced. I remember me crying looking at him under the light in his cot at the hospital. The frustration of not being able to hold my newborn in my arms and praying that he'll be ok. Mazeed called him his chocolate chip baby as oppose to Marisa who was the fairest baby with absolutely the most beautiful skin. There were many comments made about our elder two with such contrasting skin colour. He came back from school one day and said his friends asked if he was adopted as he doesn't look like either one of us. I was glad he wasn't affected by such comments because he knows that it didn't matter. He grew up watching his sister living with an illness, he helped me through it all and I think he what he is because of his life experience and limitations.
Marisa of course thought the world of him. The only brother and friend she ever knew. On his sixteenth birthday when we were planning his birthday I'd sit next to her and we'd list all the food we should make, his friends that we should invite , what we should buy etc. That was two years ago. That was the last birthday party I planned with her.
Me... February seems to be on repeat of 2015. Today two years ago she was adamant on going to MPH to buy Mazhar something eventhough she was ill and we were busy. I was trying to get out of going out because my schedule was so tight with Lisa just starting school, Sarah just started morning session and Mazhar was busy with his MSSD. It was also the year that school started a week later because of the flood in Kelantan. I couldn't say no to her so Lisa missed her agama school and I carried Marisa into the car and we went to MPH Subang Parade. I pushed her as she chose Unbroken and a Lego notebook for him. She was already weak but she was determined that Mazhar must get a present. The next morning eventhough it was Mazhar's birthday we had to get him to go to Marisa's room so that she could give him the gifts herself and all of us would sing him Happy Birthday while it was still dark outside. Yes, that was our routine on everyone's birthday. We must go to her and she must always be involved. Her happiness was when he came back from school and being able to listen to all his school stories.(something she could not experience as she grew older and weaker). So , she lived vicariously through Mazhar's eyes and ears. He was her life. The night of his birthday , the girls went to their grandparents and the four of us watched "The Imitation Game' together. Mazeed and I generally can never sit long enough to watch a movie but we did that night. We sat in the living room upstairs and watched it together right to the end. She loved that . She told me so when I was putting her to sleep. She said "I'm so happy tonight. I'm so glad that we watched the movie just the four of us."
So now, two years later , that is what Mazhar's birthday is to me. A recollection of the last few weeks of Marisa's life. February is on repeat of the last few weeks I spent with her. I can't shake it off , I can't forget and I think about all the things I'm supposed to do but don't anymore. I don't have Marisa's birthday lunch to plan anymore and when I asked Mazhar what he'd like to do tomorrow. His reply was "Let's eat". Since he has college in the morning, Mazeed has work and the girls are at school the plan is late lunch for two. That's his request. I'll most probably drag everyone to wish him everyone tomorrow morning but the truth is , birthdays just doesn't feel the same anymore. It doesnt mean that much to me . But the kids, the kids look forward to it. And birthdays are a measurement of height growth for the girls and for Mazhar, he's 18. He's a young adult who can finally open his open account and embark on a journey on his own. I pray that his experience will make me a better person. I pray he will not lose sight of who he is and chase all his dreams and be the person I've always been proud off. To Mazhar, the person who doesn't read my blogs nor has he read my book, Mummy and Ayah wish you Happy Birthday and in case he doesn't know , we're always proud of you.
Mazhar will be turning 18 tomorrow. My only son that was born at 36 weeks at 2.48kg. He was tiny and slightly jaundiced. I remember me crying looking at him under the light in his cot at the hospital. The frustration of not being able to hold my newborn in my arms and praying that he'll be ok. Mazeed called him his chocolate chip baby as oppose to Marisa who was the fairest baby with absolutely the most beautiful skin. There were many comments made about our elder two with such contrasting skin colour. He came back from school one day and said his friends asked if he was adopted as he doesn't look like either one of us. I was glad he wasn't affected by such comments because he knows that it didn't matter. He grew up watching his sister living with an illness, he helped me through it all and I think he what he is because of his life experience and limitations.
Marisa of course thought the world of him. The only brother and friend she ever knew. On his sixteenth birthday when we were planning his birthday I'd sit next to her and we'd list all the food we should make, his friends that we should invite , what we should buy etc. That was two years ago. That was the last birthday party I planned with her.
Me... February seems to be on repeat of 2015. Today two years ago she was adamant on going to MPH to buy Mazhar something eventhough she was ill and we were busy. I was trying to get out of going out because my schedule was so tight with Lisa just starting school, Sarah just started morning session and Mazhar was busy with his MSSD. It was also the year that school started a week later because of the flood in Kelantan. I couldn't say no to her so Lisa missed her agama school and I carried Marisa into the car and we went to MPH Subang Parade. I pushed her as she chose Unbroken and a Lego notebook for him. She was already weak but she was determined that Mazhar must get a present. The next morning eventhough it was Mazhar's birthday we had to get him to go to Marisa's room so that she could give him the gifts herself and all of us would sing him Happy Birthday while it was still dark outside. Yes, that was our routine on everyone's birthday. We must go to her and she must always be involved. Her happiness was when he came back from school and being able to listen to all his school stories.(something she could not experience as she grew older and weaker). So , she lived vicariously through Mazhar's eyes and ears. He was her life. The night of his birthday , the girls went to their grandparents and the four of us watched "The Imitation Game' together. Mazeed and I generally can never sit long enough to watch a movie but we did that night. We sat in the living room upstairs and watched it together right to the end. She loved that . She told me so when I was putting her to sleep. She said "I'm so happy tonight. I'm so glad that we watched the movie just the four of us."
So now, two years later , that is what Mazhar's birthday is to me. A recollection of the last few weeks of Marisa's life. February is on repeat of the last few weeks I spent with her. I can't shake it off , I can't forget and I think about all the things I'm supposed to do but don't anymore. I don't have Marisa's birthday lunch to plan anymore and when I asked Mazhar what he'd like to do tomorrow. His reply was "Let's eat". Since he has college in the morning, Mazeed has work and the girls are at school the plan is late lunch for two. That's his request. I'll most probably drag everyone to wish him everyone tomorrow morning but the truth is , birthdays just doesn't feel the same anymore. It doesnt mean that much to me . But the kids, the kids look forward to it. And birthdays are a measurement of height growth for the girls and for Mazhar, he's 18. He's a young adult who can finally open his open account and embark on a journey on his own. I pray that his experience will make me a better person. I pray he will not lose sight of who he is and chase all his dreams and be the person I've always been proud off. To Mazhar, the person who doesn't read my blogs nor has he read my book, Mummy and Ayah wish you Happy Birthday and in case he doesn't know , we're always proud of you.