My dad has a habit of telling me the worst news at the worst possible times. Like this morning, I was rushing like some mad woman all over the house, and he stopped me in my tracks just before I stepped into the shower.

"Be mentally prepared, she's going to go anytime soon."

I can't just simply shut him off and continue with what I was doing, yet I needed to rush. Hence, I had to stop there standing at the doorway of my bathroom, listening to what he had to say.

For the last couple of months, since last year, the frequency of visits to the hospital has been far from comfortable. In recent months, they became a monthly affair. We all know she's suffering, it doesn't help that she can't voice it out, or even hear anyone of us talking.

She's strong, very strong, having to bring up 7 children (a couple more I think, even my dad has never met) on her own, technically, cos my grandad was never around. As the story goes, she had to peel onions to earn the extra money, yada yada...

Her children have all grown up, some already grandparents, my cousin just gave birth the day before, what we can't fathom, is what she's holding on to. Ever since the countless admissions to the hospital, I've stopped trusting the doctors.

With the many medical complications she has now, she's barely hanging by a thread. There's nothing anyone can do, not even the doctors. We're all just simply waiting for that phonecall.

Although when the time comes, sadness will definitely be in the air, but more towards a huge sense of relief.

I'd miss you, trying so hard to talk to us at chinese new year gatherings, times when we can only smile and nod, not being able to answer, even after so many years.

Back to a much lighter topic, Saturday was Juan's birthday celebration at Chevrons.

I know I'm red, I went there from sentosa, I wasn't drunk! I'm really sorry I had to leave early though.