Love is a Many Splendoured Thing

Sometimes our idea of love can be translated in many different ways.

My son is back from Dubai on work assignment for 10 days but due to his busy schedule and mine too he and I only managed to meet for 3 nights. I have left him for a meeting in the Land of The Hornbills on a Saturday, followed by another in the Land of the Rice Bowl of Malaysia on Sunday night. He will leave on Monday without me bidding farewell. Deep down am sure he goes away knowing how much I love him.

When my daughter gave birth to her long awaited  son, I was in another meeting in Medan, Jakarta. A healthy 3.4 kg baby boy was born. I was happy but when I knew she had complications I took the first flight home. Through the night I prayed for Allah to take me if his plan was otherwise. After 4 pints of blood transfusion my daughter was out of HDU and reunited with her baby a day later. As for me I arrived from Medan and with all my luggage went straight to the hospital. Nothing much I could do  but  made prayers for her to get well ASAP. She spent her confinement days at her own home not mine as I was working. I sent cooked confinement food when I can and spend odd evenings to accompany her when she was alone. Despite all that I hope she knows deep down that I love her.

My not so little son lives with me still. When he was still in school I was doing a lot of overseas trips and local outstation jobs until I decided to do a PhD so that I would not have to leave home on a regular basis. Crazy ain't it? All that was done. Now though we live in the same house it seems like he is living on his own down the road. We hardly meet, we have dinner together like twice a week, three times if we're lucky. In the mornings I would wake him for subuh prayers and every morning too he replies either ok or done. In the evenings he would whatsapp to tell me whether he will be having dinner with me or otherwise. If he comes home late he would send his wishes to me and if I have already gone to bed I would read his goodnight wish in the morning. The other night when I apologised for not cooking dinner for his brother's friend from Syria he gleefully added that mom doesn't cook for anyone for that matter. Sweet boy I could have wrung his neck like how my mom used to do to wet clothes before she hung them. Though I don't wait hand and foot for him, I guess he knows deep down that I love him.

Truly love is a many splendoured thing.....