This photo is my pride and joy. It had never been posted. I was 20 months old. It was the day my Dad flew a plane to go to study in England in 1956. The Chan Clan and the Kong Clan were in the airport to farewell him. It was a very proud moment. Dad was among the few and earliest students to go to England on a scholarship.
I was the baby in the family then. Dad's Cousin Uncle Hung Fei, tells me this when ever I see him, even when I was an adult. " I was carrying you, and when I asked you where is Dad? You answered, Ah Pa FLOOOO and you would move your hand showing how the plane flew."
I was 14 with a size 8 feet. Behind me was a clump of sugar cane. The house next door is identical to ours. A brick third class government quarter. By then, Dad had returned from England, became a teacher, a lecturer of the Sarawak Teachers' Training College, and a supervisor of schools.
This was my capping photo from Auckland University. I didn't stay for my capping in Windsor University in Canada. I rushed home.
This was less than 20 hours after we were told that Andrew was going to die. We decided that even though he was dying, he was still part of the family. We asked Paul Khor to come to the hospital to take our photos. It was the most heart wrenching photo, he was doing to die any moment. He didn't died that day. He survived for 55 days, long enough for me to love him, and for me to know why God gave him to me for such a short time. I learn when he was 40 days old that I could comfort another mum. I continue to do this. I am involved with Sands.
Fast forward many years, I was mum to 2 girls and one angel, in Singapore.
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I returned to Sarawak for a visit. It was an unexpected meeting with my uncle David Kong , Mum's brother( on the right) in Kuching. He had flown from Miri.
More unexpected was meeting Mum's cousin Kong Sieng Hun. ( left) I remembered him like when I was in primary school. It was only later that I was told he held a position akin to the Mayor of Sibu. Come to think of it, I had treated him as mum's cousin. Luckily, I was not disrespectful.
Uncle David commutes between Miri and New Zealand. He is my only relative here. Blood is thicker than water.
Year 2000, we came back to NZ to tour for a month. My substitute baby.
All dressed up and nowhere to go. It was my baby sister Grace wedding. Unfortunately, my Father in law had just died. The Chinese have a tradition if there was a bereavement in the family, people didn't like you to come to their wedding. So sad.
November 16: Self Portraits Introduce yourself. I wish I could share with you my wedding photos, but I am strictly told I should not.
link to Mr Linky at the Friday shoot out link below.
Every now and then, on the first Saturday morning of the month, I do a "hideaway". I go the the Pt Chevalier Community Centre, where some Sands parents meet and share with each other things which may not be free for them to share outside.
I go for a little me time, a little me and Andrew time, and mainly for me as an Oldie to share my painful experience to tell the newbies that it is OK to cry.
Every time I go, there is a new mum who has just joined this "sad club". We didn't choose to join this club. We are the bereaved parents club. What some one shares may resonate in use, it applies to us too.
Some people tell me to move on. They have no idea what they are talking about and how much it hurts the bereaved parents when they say," Get over it."
Here is a poem from my book, I edited it.
Empty arms.
The hole in the heart,
is bigger than a well.
The hole never mends.
Instead a stack is continually stabbing.
Blood never cease to ooze.
A puzzle piece is missing.
Life is never the same again.
Only a fellow mum who has lost her babe,
Will understand your pain.
She will not ask you to stop crying.
For she wears the same pair of shoes.
For she feels the pinching at the toes.
Open your heart to her.
Together you journey.
Until you meet your angels again.
A pair of shoes has been seen as symbolizing Van Gogh’s difficult passage through life. As I write, I think I become more creative. I write for my readers, and most of all, I write for myself.
This is an excerpt of my poem chapter of my "Diary of a bereaved mother, Goodbye my baby" book.
I am a Sands mum for 23 years, and I am a counsellor and advocate.
All Sands people are volunteers. I have photographed Tania and Hillary.
Non-Profit Organization
Sands Auckland Central is a parent-run group supporting families, throughout the Auckland region (mainly North Shore, Central Auckland and Waitakere), who have experienced the death of a baby - at any age or gestation, and in any circumstance.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sands-Auckland-Central/112396652171998?sk=info
