27–29 December 2025
The journey home began in an unfamiliar way: business class.
Seat 1F.
I smiled quietly.
1 + 6 = 7.
Mom again.
Two short glasses of champagne followed, poured generously, almost full. Then came the parade of food: satay (three sticks), a cold chicken dish, pan-seared fish with couscous and vegetables and finally dessert, apple crumble with coconut topping.
Halfway through, I laughed at myself.
Even writing this now makes me feel… full.
Too full.
I realized something very clearly up there in the air: I don’t enjoy being pampered with excess.
I don’t enjoy eating past my body’s yes.
When I left most of the main course and dessert untouched, the steward came over, surprised. I explained gently, it was simply too much, too sweet. She nodded and said she’d pass the feedback on.
Even the final offer, a warm bun with Lurpak butter (my favourite!) and I declined.
My tummy was already waving a white flag. 😂
“No more business class for me,” I thought, smiling.
About two hours into the flight, the air turned choppy. Turbulence rolled through, shaking not just the plane but my entire system. We were far above the clouds, yet everything felt unsettled. Moments later, the seatbelt sign lit up.
Up there, suspended between sky and ground, I felt it again, how little control we truly have and how much trust flying asks of us.
I landed at 8.10pm on 27 December.
KL welcomed me with warmth, the kind that wraps around you without asking questions. No cold crept into my bones. Just familiarity, relief and a quiet happiness.
From the airport, straight home; then a quick shower, a packed bag and another ride out.
By midnight, I was at Mom’s place. My aunts and cousins were awake, waiting. There were hugs, soft conversations and snippets of my Vipassana journey shared in between yawns.
We finally slept close to 2am.
At 6am on 28 December, I woke up for Mom’s one year prayer (according to the Hindu calendar) - although mom passed away on 7 January.
As I was getting dressed, the doorbell rang. My nephew and cousin were there already. The three of us headed to the temple nearby, where prayers were offered and food was distributed; sweet rice (pongal) and tamarind rice, part of the rites for Mom’s onward journey.
From there, we returned home for the longer prayer with the priest.
As the only child present, I performed the rites.
Relatives gathered quietly.
And then, my heart softened even more as my three yoga students arrived.
They blended right in. Laughing gently, taking photos and videos, helping capture family moments. My relatives adored them. The house felt alive; not heavy, not sorrowful…just full.
Lunch arrived: vegetarian dishes, tea, snacks - plenty. As always, I ordered more than enough. Better abundance than lack. Everyone left with food in hand and warmth in heart.
Later, a few more visitors came by. We reheated food, shared sweets and eventually the house grew quieter again.
That night, my cousin and I shared a small drink, our first; something Mom would have forbidden before, but somehow now felt… allowed. I smiled, knowing she’d understand.
We cleaned up, exhausted but grateful and went to bed with full hearts.
The next morning, 29 December, it was time for another reunion: with my other half!😊
After weeks apart, I reached the Proton service centre where my X50 had been repaired. As I walked in, I didn’t see him at first, then I turned left.
There he was.
And I swear, there was a grin!!😬
Fully repaired.
Smooth.
Proud.
No resentment.
I apologized out loud, gave him a little pep talk and took him for a test drive. He responded beautifully.
We drove back to Mom’s place together.
Mom’s picture returned to its place on the wall. Lights were left on. Doors locked gently.
Then, finally…home.
Looking back, this return journey wasn’t just about flying back or completing rituals.
It was about arrival.
Into warmth.
Into memory.
Into love that continues, quietly, steadily…even when the journey changes form.
Above the clouds and back where the heart knows the way…
