A notification pinged on the second day of Hari Raya.
While the rest of the world was still passing around jars of kuih raya and seeking forgiveness, a family WhatsApp group was shattering.
A son-in-law typed out a few cold lines no one ever expected to read. In that message, he told his elderly mother-in-law to leave his house.
The mother was in the group. She read the message herself.
It's a true story. A painful one, not just for the mother, but for all her children.
Because she could no longer manage on her own, the elderly woman had moved in with her daughter who lived nearby.
She wanted to stay close to the neighbourhood she had known for years. But staying nearby did not bring her peace. Her daughter was busy working and could not always fulfil her wish to visit her old house.
So the mother stayed there, longing for the "home" that was no longer hers.
Today, she lives with her other children, far away from the neighbourhood she once called home.
Some say the mother was difficult and demanding. The kind of parent who insists things be done a certain way, who complains, who refuses to admit fault, who tests the patience of those caring for her.
Those who felt for the couple said they had reached their limit. That taking care of the mother had drained them. Nobody saw the toll it took.
Others said no amount of frustration justifies such cruelty. And no matter how flawed she was, you don’t just throw out the woman who gave you life.
But honestly, life is rarely about good guys vs. bad guys. It’s just exhausted people living in a pressure cooker.
A mother spends much of her life being needed. She’s the one who soothes the fevers, wipes the tears and somehow manages to stretch every single ringgit when money is tight. She is the one who remembers the birthdays, the allergies, the fears, the hopes and dreams.
For years, she’s been the glue holding everything together while carrying the emotional weight of a household without a manual or a day off.
She is expected to be patient when her children are difficult, forgive them when they are cruel and be present no matter how exhausted she is.
And for years, she gives. She gives until her children grow up, get married, build homes of their own and become the decision-makers.
Then, one day, the balance shifts.
The woman who once cared for everyone now needs someone to care for her. Suddenly, the virtues once expected of her are no longer extended back to her.
Her slowness becomes an inconvenience, her dependence becomes a burden and sometimes her presence becomes tension.
That is the cruelty of old age. It isn't the aching knees or the weakening body. It is becoming unwanted in the place where she once held authority.
It is easy to honour mothers when they are strong. We celebrate them when they are able to effortlessly juggle their careers, take care of the kids, cook for every family gathering and basically hold the entire world together.
But what happens when she is no longer the "Supermom"? What happens when she becomes difficult and her only contribution is her presence?
That’s the scary part. When we start looking at our parents only through the lens of "how much work are they?", their dignity starts to disappear. We stop seeing the woman who raised us and start seeing a "problem" that needs to be solved.
I’m not here to judge the tired caregivers. I know that caregiving can wear you down until you feel like you have nothing left to give. It’s hard when a parent tests your patience every single day.
But I know that a mother’s value doesn't have an expiry date.
She isn't a subscription you can just cancel when the "service" isn't great anymore. She’s a human being with a history. Behind that "difficult" exterior is a woman who is probably scared of losing her independence and her place in the world.
In her old age, a mother becomes a mirror that asks us a very tough question: Who are you when the person who gave you everything has nothing left to give back to you?
It’s easy to be a "good" child when Mom is being helpful. But the highest form of love is choosing to be kind when it’s the hardest thing to do.
It’s keeping the door open when you’re tired. It’s seeing the "Supermom" inside the woman who is now struggling.
To anyone navigating these tough family dynamics, I see you.
It’s not easy. But being there for them when they are at their most "unlovable" is perhaps the greatest gift you could ever return.