A friend asked me today whether I would be going home for Aidilfitri. I believe the question should be, when. As far as I’m concerned, not to return home for Aidilfitri is not an option, simply because my Mak is expecting everyone to be home for the festival, no matter how tight our schedules are or how crazy the traffic heading north would be at this time of the year.

Like I said, not to go home is not an option. I missed celebrating Aidilfitri with Mak only twice – once in mid-80s when I was a bachelor in Kuching and wanted to find out how they do it there, and again in late-90s when I was already married and living in KL. You wouldn’t want to know the “lectures” I got from Mak and my siblings, and how guilty I felt after that.

As cliché as it seems, Aidilfitri is the time to seek for forgiveness, share the good food and strengthen family bonds. To me it is also more than just that. It is the time of the year when Mak is in her element playing the role of mother to all her children. I could imagine her already fussing about where which child and his/her family would be sleeping when they come home. She would also be excitedly planning the menu for Hari Raya and the days before and after, making sure to cook each of her children’s favourite dish.

I genuinely believe that comes Aidilfitri, Mak sees us as her little boys and girls again. How we excitedly prepared our home for the festival. How we laughed and joked with each other, and the teasing – about the colour of our brand new baju raya, hair style, shoes etc… The girls would be helping her in the kitchen and the boys, as usual, would either be lounging around or letting off firecrackers somewhere with the other boys, whose sisters also would be busy helping their mothers.

It is true that Mak now spends most of her time at our homes, a week with one daughter, another week with the other, and one more week with a son, and another week or a day or two with the other. After making her rounds, she would return home. Yes, we get to see Mak often but I guess, somehow, those meetings are just not the same as when we gather at our family home with our mother for a single occasion that means a lot to Mak. Only at home, Mak would feel at ease with everything and wouldn’t be feeling awkward.

Years ago as we were growing up, Mak and Pak would be trying their best to make each Hari Raya a joyous one for us by making sure we each get new baju raya and shoes. As children, these seemed to be the most important aspect for celebrating Aidilfitri. It must not have been easy for Pak to provide all those for our big family, but somehow we were never without new clothes for the day. There would always be a wide sumptious spread on the table.

Now that Pak is no longer with us and Mak is alone, I believe it is our duty as children to be there with her during that auspicious day. I guess Mak is not asking for us to come home with goodies and gifts; she just wants us to come home and fill the house as a family again.

Yes, I will go home to be with Mak this Aidilfitri and hope to continue doing so for as along as she is still with us. Mak is 80+ now and realistically speaking, her “light is dimming”. While she is still alive, I, as her son, will make her happy. No doubt, Mak is not sharp any more and very sensitive now. Yes, I do get a good share of her scoldings still but I would rather be scolded than not to have her with us. When she is no longer around, going home will never be same anymore….

Sometimes, we take for granted that our parents would always be there and we don’t think about their presence so much. Suddenly, wham!, they are gone and only then we begin to appreciate their existence. Life is full of mysteries and surprises, my friend. It can take a turn for the best or worst in a fraction of a second.

Take my wife for instance. We had gone home to Alor Setar for Aidilfitri in October 2006. We spent a lot of time with her Mummy. She was healthy and joyful. A couple of weeks after we had returned to KL, Mummy fell sick with lung cancer. Hardly three months later, Mummy passed away. Now, returning home to Alor Setar is never the same for my wife and children anymore. And each time we passed by Mummy's home, which is now rented out, I could see tears welling in my wife's eyes, and also the children's. They would be looking at the house and longing for Mummy. I would too.

You see, I don't like surprises....

This son, as always, will be returning home this Aidifitri. And, as always, he will be the first at Mak’s doorstep.