After their grandmother died, their mum would go out on her bike every day, once a day. He’d ask her where she went when she returned. She told him that she went out to visit a friend. He would ask her to take him along and every time she would tell him that she’ll bring him along when he got older. One day, she brought him along on her bike ride. What a long ride it was. The road was winding and all, through rubber estate and such. Then he saw the lane clearing to their grandmother’s cemetary. Her plot was draped with beautiful flowers. So that was their mother’s destination, every day, for a year. He was 9 years old then.
Chris and his brothers were on their way back home after they had chosen the plot for their mum’s burial when he told them the story. Only then he could cry.
Rest in peace, Mrs Kok.