My husband and I got together with brother 2 and family to celebrate his birthday. It was a few hours of chatter, laughter and feasting.

The company was good. Stories and happenings were shared particularly by the nieces and nephews. The food received many thumbs-ups with an ‘I will return for the sausages’ review. The restaurant’s servers were accommodating and helped make the brunch-lunch experience memorable.

I’m glad we did it. From about 11am to 3pm, I didn’t overthink about my Sinnavan, although my husband briefly talked about her and our joint sunflower photo experience.

What happened was, some years ago, we visited Hall Place and its gardens in Bexley, England. In one of the gardens there were loads of glorious sunflowers. The only way I can describe large bright orangey sunflowers is glorious. They looked glorious and alive. We took photos of and with the sunflowers. One was with my mum-in-law, and the other with me. 

We showed it to sister number 3, and what do you know. She went to the same gardens the very next day, and had photos taken of herself with the same glorious sunflowers. We now have three near-identical photos of those glorious sunflowers with her, my mum-in-law and me.  It was so her. The cheekiness and the sense of life she had in her.

Earlier, brother number 2 had said he wanted to cancel his birthday when we met a week after sister number 3 passed on 26 April, 2026. I understood. Last year, sister number 3 was home for my mum’s first anniversary. Thereafter, we celebrated brother 2’s birthday on 26 May, 2025 with the family in a mountain-view glass house in Kuala Kubu Baru. We stayed for two nights, played games, ate and bonded.

After my husband and I returned from Terengganu, I suggested to brother number 2 not to cancel but celebrate his birthday. He and I knew how we felt about losing sister number 3. There was so much sorrow and sadness. And, disbelief at her sudden passing. So, maybe, a birthday get-together might help soften or alleviate the hollowness we felt.

It worked, at least for me, for a while. I felt a little lighter and happier. It didn’t last but it was a welcomed respite.

To my husband’s credit, that’s what he’s been trying to do for me over the last six weeks. Occupation. Doing things and visiting places. Keeping busy to stave off thinking, remembering and being sad. Not easy. In my mental preoccupation of my Sinnavan, I overlooked, and only recently asked him about how he was. My husband has known sister number 3 for over three decades. He was the boy next door, whom I met on her wedding day. Yes, really.

He got on well with his sister-in-law. He has always described her as fun and full of life. She was good company, whom he could chat and have a laugh with. He feels her loss, and understands how much I miss her.

Like I had written before, things and places, remind me of my Sinnavan. Even though Kuala Terengganu and Setiu, the two districts that we visited last month, weren’t places that sister number 3 had been to, I still couldn’t not think or be reminded of her. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a good time. I did but she was on my mind.

Walking in parks and being with nature do help, most times. I know this sounds lame, desserts also help. It does, while it lasts.  

As an aside, sister number 3 and I watched, ‘The Sound of Music’, probably in the 1970’s, at a cinema in Penang. Whenever we spoke about that movie, we laughed, the belly-aching kind, remembering how we ate all things sweet, all through the movie. And at intermission, yes there was a break, we had ice cream. Two piggies. That was just one of our many dessert escapades. She loved and enjoyed desserts like I do.

At the time, it was a big deal adventure because we lived in Alor Setar, and it took over two hours to get to Penang by car. Including a ferry ride from Butterworth. Long before the two connecting bridges were built. I remember brother number 1 drove, and my parents came along. And, they waited to collect us after the very long movie. Why they came along or why we went with them, I’ve no idea. Can’t fact check as they are all no longer here. 

What to do …

I’ve only, somewhat, learnt from after my mum, grief has to run its course. No time frame. I still feel sad and teary when I think of her. It’s no different with my Sinnavan except its very raw and unbelievable.

Instead of trying to make sense or not feel sad, for now, at least, I’m going with whatever, whenever.