. what i love about her .

for mother's day, mother's mother's day.

her amusing quirks
her insane lvls of vanity...

• having a mirror by her side at the hospice to make sure she always looked pretty...even at the age of 93.
• wanting to get plastic surgery to laser off her liver spots on her face...since forever...up till now.
• insisting my mum buy the correct compact powder for her...my last memory of this was when she was about 80 plus.

her obsession with jewellery and shopping which i totally inherited
her long-lasting youth...even at 80 plus she used to say "Next time when I'm old......"
her shy smile when u wanna take a picture of her
how she told me not to make her wait so long and to come back quickly when i was leaving after my visit home during my summer break
how she's always so particular and fussy about her food taste and water temperature
and her da pi ku!
her feistiness
how she walks like a 2 or 3 yr old toddler...upright, belly out, legs lifted high
her amazing talents as a domestic goddess....her crochet skills which she never managed to impart to me cos we just couldn't understand each other....her unbelievable cooking skills, her beadwork (never got to see but heard of)
her strength and resilience through her growing up years, her marriage, everything...
her stubbornness

her grumpiness

her over-frugality/hoarders obsession...like bugging my mum, when i was young to keep away most of my underwear and only leave out a few cos it's not good to let a child have so much choice...lol

her bugging me for the longest time that i should have my hair cut really short. that little girls look much better with short hair....until she realised i was as stubborn as she was.

her love for us even though she complains a lot, nitpicks a lot, could be super unreasonable...but she loves us

Her apt, CNY 2008, pottering right before the arrival of the hoi polloi

Lim Cheng Kheng, born 4-12-1917, crossed over 17-1-2012.
Dearly missed and deeply loved, every single fucking day.

An update, 8 April 2013:
When I think about her, I think about her strength, her crazy talents, and her humility. I think about the pain she went through, blind to the realisation of her Greatness, her beauty. I think about her big heart, her love, her self-sacrifice and caring; and the little child inside her just crying out for love and recognition; and the cancerous bitterness, indignation and self-loathing that prevented her from receiving what she deserved....all that love...all that recognition... which were well and truly present....not from all, but from some. At least till the last few weeks of her life. I'm glad she felt it. I'm glad she realised. I'm glad she was willing to receive. And I'm glad she afforded me the opportunity to witness her miracle, to share so deeply, to be a part of her last few moments...., And above all, to choose me, to share; between the both of us, that very last moment.

Dearly missed and deeply loved, with immense gratitude and the highest respect, every single fucking day.