The downtown area of Semarang with the backdrop of some of Java’s volcanoes
It was exactly this month last year when I lost my mother to cancer, an event that shook me to the core like no other one before. Although I have previously written about all the feelings that came rushing inside me following her death, I decided to journal my grief in the weeks and months that followed. I hoped by doing so I would be able to process the loss in a better and healthier way than when I lost my father three years earlier.
Longtime readers of this blog know that every year I always went back to my hometown – the city of Semarang – at the end of Ramadan to celebrate Eid al-Fitr with my parents, usually for a week or a little more. After my mother was diagnosed with cancer in January 2024, I told her I had booked a return flight to Semarang for last year’s Eid festivities in April, in the hope that it would help cheer her up. Unfortunately, she didn’t live long enough, and once I was back in Jakarta after her funeral and a week of dealing with so many things that were both physically and emotionally demanding, I pondered if I should forfeit the flight ticket for that trip. The idea of going to an empty house where my parents used to live was too painful to think about.
In the end, I still went. With James coming with me, I thought at least I wouldn’t feel too lonely. However, we agreed that we would only spend a few nights at the house and stay at a hotel in the city center for the rest of the trip. When I unlocked the doors to my parents’ house and saw how everything was still in place – the cooking utensils my mother used for making her delicious dishes, her shoes and slippers on the shoe rack, the rooster-themed ornaments my father bought, the cabinets with their clothes inside, the bicycles they used – I immediately felt a crushing sensation in my chest, followed by tears. Lots of tears. The house still looked the same, but this time there were no souls in it that used to make it such a warm place.
A month after that trip, James and I decided to go back to Semarang to visit the house one last time to see if there was anything we could bring to Jakarta before we really said goodbye to it. We stayed at a hotel in the downtown area, right across from the hospital where my father passed away in 2021. And we also visited the restaurant where the last photo my mother posted on Instagram was taken in December 2023 at a reunion with her friends from university. Everyone processes grief differently, and I decided this time around I wanted to confront it, instead of escaping from it.
Back in Jakarta, I copied all of the photos and videos in my mother’s phone to my laptop, to preserve the memories of her. Many of those files have people in them that I don’t know, or I have met but struggle to remember their names. In the past, I always asked her, who this person was, or who that relative was. But now, my primary source of such information is no longer around. One particular video I found in her phone, however, has become a cherished treasure, for it is the only one that shows a conversation between the two of us. And what makes it even more precious is her unintentionally funny answers when I quizzed her about what she was looking at when we went to an ancient Hindu temple in the heart of Java in 2022. Whenever I miss her voice, I always play that video.
In the early weeks and months after her passing, I often dreamed of her, and also of my father. In one dream, she realized that she was no longer with me, and I remember feeling the joy of seeing her again. When I woke up, I could only take a deep breath. In another dream, she was already sick, but she looked undeniably happy when she saw me. Unfortunately, my alarm went off, ending the dream sooner than I wished.
When I was much younger, my mother told me how she liked Whitney Houston for her clear and distinctive voice, Kevin Costner for his charisma, and Bryan Adams for his raspy voice. Seven months after her death, when I was having lunch at a small eatery near my apartment, Adams’ song Everything I Do was played. It instantly reminded me of her, and when it came to the part “everything I do, I do it for you,” I had to briefly pause on munching the food as I was trying really hard to contain my tears. That hit me particularly hard because I know I was the center of her universe, that everything she did, she did for me. Before the pandemic, when James and I were visiting my parents in Semarang, my mother said to us how she wanted to go to a karaoke parlor with us. But that never happened. We could’ve sung that Bryan Adams song that she loved.
As a foodie, my mother always asked me about what new dishes I would take her to try every time she visited Jakarta, a much bigger and more cosmopolitan city than Semarang. And when the dining scene in my hometown became more and more exciting in recent years, I always looked up what was new in town. She was thrilled when James and I took her to try Brazilian food and Vietnamese dishes in Semarang, something that until around a decade ago was practically nonexistent in this city that is better known for its traditional fare.
During our most recent trip together to the city last May, James and I decided that it shouldn’t only be about nostalgia and reliving the bittersweet memories of us with her. It should also be about trying things we couldn’t in the past, like nasi ayam, because as an extraordinarily good home cook, she always said “I can make it better” whenever I asked her about the local dishes in Semarang. As a result, we mostly ate at home.
When I visited her grave again in November, I couldn’t hold my tears while at the same time wondering if I would ever return to the city. But when the emotions had calmed down, I asked myself if I really wanted the grief to go away. Andrew Garfield, the British-American actor who lost his mother in 2019, spoke about his loss to Stephen Colbert and said that grief is the manifestation of an unexpressed love. That resonates with me as it is exactly how I feel. That’s why I’m in no rush to get over it because maybe it’s actually better if it stays within me. Keeping it inside of me doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to dwell in sadness forever. But rather, doing so will keep her in my heart, while I’m continuously making new memories in my hometown, and of the dishes she used to cook. New and old memories can indeed occupy the same space.
One year after her passing, I still dream of her, although it’s nowhere as intense and frequent as how it used to be. And I’m grateful for it, because that means while she stays in my mind and heart, I can gradually overcome the pain. However, the journey of navigating this grief is not work as there is no deadline – there should never be. It is rather an experience that will continuously shape me, guide me in making decisions, and help me appreciate life better.
Note: The images in this post were taken on my trips to Semarang in April and May 2024 after my mother passed away.
One of my favorite features of my parents’ house
Shortly after my father passed away in early 2021, a relative brought a sapling of a longan tree (Dimocarpus longan) and planted it in the front yard of my parents’ house. In May 2024, it was already this big
I knew this gudeg (a traditional Javanese dish made from young jackfruit stewed with coconut milk, palm sugar, spices, and aromatics) place from my mother as she often went here with friends and relatives
Soto Semarang is another local dish my mother often had whenever James and I were in town
I still remember the moment when I had this nasi goreng babat (tripe fried rice) with my parents in 2019 for breakfast near the city’s old town district
Still from the same stall, but in this rendition the tripe was prepared in gongso style (a method where the meat or its substitute is stir-fried with sweet and spicy condiments first before water is added and the cooking continues until the liquid is reduced)
Tahu petis (fried tofu filled with sweet shrimp paste), one of my mother’s (and James’s) favorite gorengan (Indonesian fritters). She was very particular with this snack as she only bought it from one streetside vendor in Semarang’s Peterongan area
Poffertjes, a Dutch sweet treat that is popular across Indonesia. We had these at a restaurant and ice cream parlor in Kota Lama (Semarang’s old town district) where we took my mother the last time in 2023
One of the fancier restaurants in Kota Lama my mother had fortunately been to
In the past, every time James and I went to Semarang we always visited Kota Lama to see what was new and what had changed. Sometimes my mother tagged along
There has been a constant cycle of urban renewal and decay within Kota Lama
In our last visit, we were lucky to finally be able to go inside the Blenduk Church, Kota Lama’s most iconic structure
Centuries-old organ pipes inside the church
There was a time when I dreamed of buying a derelict property in Kota Lama like this to turn it into an independent shop
This collapsed building has seen better days
An ereveld (a cemetery for Dutch soldiers) in Semarang’s hilly Candi area
The 18th-century Kauman Mosque near Kota Lama
Some of the most delicious dishes in Semarang can be found at streetside stalls like this
The first time I had nasi ayam, and I really enjoyed it (James is now a big fan)
This smaller stall sells lekker, crispy thin pancakes with different toppings to choose from
These lekker tasted absolutely lekker (Dutch for “delicious”)
Exploring parts of Semarang we had never been to before
A mural in the city’s Chinatown depicting the process of making lumpia/lunpia, a variety of spring roll filled with chopped bamboo shoots and minced chicken or prawns served with fresh chives, acar (pickled chopped cucumber), bird’s eye chilies, and a thick brown sauce made from tauco (fermented soybean paste)
Of course we had the real lumpia. The one at the bottom was fried, the top was not. We preferred the former
One of the most popular lumpia places in the city
An abandoned shophouse in Semarang’s Chinatown
When we had this asem-asem iga (beef ribs in a sweet, sour, and spicy soup), James said that it has a quintessentially Semarang taste to it
A few months before she passed away, when my mother and I were having our weekly Saturday night call, I asked her if she had tried nasi glewo, and she said she hadn’t. When James and I found a stall that sold it at a food festival in Kota Lama in April 2024, we ordered it and wished that my mother could have tried it too, because it was delicious
The view of Semarang from a mall near the city’s northern coast
Inside Semarang Tawang, the city’s main train station
My mother with her students when she was still teaching Javanese traditional dance
What an Amazing World! 
I remember you writing of your mother’s passing, and once more, my sincerest condolences. Losing a parent, someone who raised you growing up woth unconditional love, is one of the most-painful experiences one goes through in life. It’s good you got to see her before she passed away, and her memory lives on: in memory, in your hometown, in the food you’ve eaten with her, and everywhere else. Take care of yourself, Bama.
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Thank you, Rebecca. Losing my mother was very difficult — it still is. But I tried to deal with grief differently this time, and so far I can say I’ve managed to stay relatively calm.
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Sorry for your lost 🙏🏽
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Thank you.
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❤
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I was actually thinking of contacting you last week because I knew it was around this time last that she passed. It was a year for me just before Christmas. All of these emotions you’re having, I am as well. I was thinking I should be over my grief by now, but it’s good to know that we’re at about the same stage.
Thinking of you Bama, and your mom. Seding a hug, Maggie
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I feel you, Maggie. Losing a parent right before what was supposed to be a festive time filled with joy and laughter is hard. I also read that grief is not a linear process with a clear end. So, it’s completely okay if you still feel it now.
Please be kind to yourself, and I’m sending a hug across the oceans too.
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I’m right there with you and Maggie, although my grief is still a little more fresh after losing my mom on New Year’s Day this year. I am sorry I missed this post when it came out; as noted in your most recent post, I somehow stopped getting notifications from your blog.
Grief really can be an asset even though it hurts. I think suppressing it is worse. I am seeing that in one of my siblings and while she seems to have it all together, I see signs that it is not healthy. I talk about my mom a lot (and I talk TO her a lot!), and I just wore a fancy shirt of hers to a wedding party for a family member last weekend so she would be there with us in some form. Maybe silly but I love the feeling of connection.
Sending love to both you and Maggie and anyone else who is in this sad club.
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Big hugs for both of you. I’m glad I didn’t suppress the grief because now everytime I dream of my parents, it’s usually a happy one. I hope your sister will find a way to deal with the loss in a way that is healthier for her. I know it’s really not easy, but I do hope she’ll get there.
You wearing your mom’s shirt to a family event was really sweet, Lex. And I hope everyone felt the connection too. That is actually a great idea for keeping the people we loved in our memories.
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A year already…it only feels like yesterday i read your sad news. Thinking of you Bama! X
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It feels surreal to realize that it has been a year. Thank you, Anna.
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Thank you for your touching story and all the best!
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Thank you, Martina.
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Not easy to cope with the loss of someone like your mother who clearly adored you. Only more time can lessen your despair. I can relate precisely to how you must have felt when you heard those special words in Brian Adams’ song. For me though, it’s an introductory phrase from a firman that triggers sadness at our recent loss. Remind yourself that you have James to draw strength from.
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I talked to a friend about the loss. Years ago she lost her father whom she was really close with, and it took her two years to finally make peace with it. I guess time really is the key. And as you said, James really helps me to navigate the grief. I’m so sorry for your recent loss, Mallee.
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Sorry, I accidentally deleted your comment on my Toledo post. Thanks for your comment.
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No worries, Mallee. I thoroughly enjoyed your posts from the southern part of Spain.
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Thanks—one more to go
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I think you are doing very well Bama. There’s no timetable for grief, and it’s different for all of us. You seem connected with your feelings and inner truth and there’s not much more one can ask for. It’s feeling the feelings that bring us home in the end I think. In some ways I had a difficult relationship with my mum, and so I could not feel completely open hearted about her until I had healed that a full 11 years after her death. Now I think of her only with love and wish we could meet again somehow, sometime.
Your mum sounds like a wonderful woman who loved you, and I believe still does from wherever she is. — Alison
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I hope I am, Alison. Although sometimes I think some people just don’t understand the emotional rollercoaster I have been in after losing both parents in such a relatively short time. I’m sorry to hear that you and your mum didn’t have the greatest relationship, but I’m glad to know that you have healed that inner wound. I can imagine the journey to get there must not have been easy.
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Grief is complicated. I just accept that it will visit whenever it wants. Everybody has their way of dealing with it. I commend you for journaling. I think that’s a good way of handling it. Just before I saw your blog, I was remembering the dinners I had with my parents and where they sat in our dining room. My sister is still at the house and it’s still pretty much the same.
Sending you lots of love and hugs. Do take care. Please feel free to reach out.
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It truly is. And like you said, sometimes it comes when I’m off guard, like the moment I heard that song at lunchtime. Does it still feel surreal to you every time you remember your parents? My memories of my parents became even more vivid not long after they passed away.
Thank you, Matt. I hope you’re doing well too.
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I sometimes feel a sense of guilt. Maybe I should have done this or that. I should have spent less time at work and more time with them. I have to remind myself that I did the best I could at that time and push the guilt aside.
Just today I remember the first time my mom showed my how to cook scrambled eggs. I had never seen raw eggs come out of a shell and then were beaten till it was a yellow liquid. But when it hit the frying pan, it became this solid food.
There are so many things that can suddenly trigger memories and I’m glad for that. It’s a nice way to briefly relive those moments.
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I feel that too. Looking at the conversations I had with my mom, there were times when I should’ve responded to her more nicely — I remember clearly these usually happened when I was so busy at work.
Like you, I’m also grateful for all the things that can trigger my memories of her. In a way it shows how close we were.
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Powerful writing, Bama. The emotions of your words seep into me while I read, feeling the weight when I read “The house still looked the same, but this time there were no souls in it that used to make it such a warm place.” The one thing I have learned in life is that it’s the souls and spirits of the people around you that make life what it is, and this line of yours brought it to life. It is sweet knowing your foodie ways are part of your Mom, and not sure there is a better memory for you to have as you continue your adventures around the world knowing that you are sharing every new dish with your Mom. Take care, my friend, and may this year soothe your soul.
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Much appreciated, Randall. As an introvert, I often prefer being in solitude to constantly interacting with other people. However, I realized that some of my most memorable travel experiences happened exactly because of the interactions I made with the people I met. They really warmed my heart. I definitely got my love for food from my mom, and the dishes she cooked are among my most treasured memories of her. Thank you for the wishes. I also hope that this year will be good and kind to you too.
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I never really thought about grief being a manifestation of an unexpressed love. There’s never a set approach or timeframe to deal with grief. But you’re allowing yourself to process the moments and memories through writing, food and everything else. I like that idea of keeping her memory alive in your heart, even if it does bring some sadness. Sending you a long distance hug.
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I never thought of it that way either until I watched that interview and realized that it was exactly how I felt right after my mom’s passing. I’m allowing myself to be more vulnerable this time, including at work, although I know there are limits to it in a professional setting. Thank you, Linda.
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The photo of your mom as a teacher is beautiful and your tribute to her is beautiful and both warms my heart and also brings tears to my eyes.
I’m very sorry that you had to experience this painful loss again at this one year anniversary. It seems to me though that you are processing it at your own pace and letting yourself go through the stages. This is healthy and I’m glad you have a support system.
How bittersweet it must’ve been to visit your parents home. It really reinforces that a house is just a house. It is the people and the love that make it a home.
I’m glad you were able to journal and collect those raw emotions and memories through this process. It can be very healing and how sweet and wonderful you have that video of your mom. I have videos of my mom but none of my dad and how I wish I have these too for him.
The food photos look delicious and as you one day possibly share your mom’s recipes with your readers, I hope it brings you continued healing! 💕🙏
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I can see why that photo of my mom also brought tears to your eyes, Ab, since your late mom was also a teacher.
Weeks after I lost my mom, when those dreams started happening, I decided to write down everything that reminded me of her. After a while, when the list got longer, I thought of doing this blog post a year after her passing to see how far I’ve gone in my journey of processing the grief. Basically, I wanted to do it differently this time compared to when I lost my father. I’m glad I did because it all really helped me cope with the loss.
The house has been sold to my aunt (my father’s older sister), so at least it stays in the family. Although I don’t think I can visit it again, at least not yet.
I also don’t have any video of my dad, and I wish I did.
I will eventually share some of my mom’s recipes. I’m thinking of starting with something relatively simple first where the ingredients should be easily found all over the world. But we’ll see.
Thank you so much for your encouragement and for sharing your thoughts and feelings, Ab.
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I am glad to hear that writing has brought you healing and hope you will have these writings to bring you continued comfort and perspective over the next and long while.
I was curious about, but didn’t want to ask about the house, so thanks for sharing that. I’m glad it is there for you to visit one day when you are ready. 🙏
Starting small and simple is always a good start and look forward to seeing the first post when you are ready.
Take good care! 💕
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Know exactly how you feel. It is now almost 4 years for me, and I still get a lump in my throat, still dream of her, and still talk to her. I don’t think the pain of losing a parent one loves deeply ever goes away. We just learn to deal with it better. Hugs.
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We just learn how to deal with it better, indeed. That’s what I have been reminding myself, really. I hope you will eventually find peace in your own journey navigating the grief, Rama.
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This post absolutely moved me – thank you for sharing such an honest account. The way you are dealing with the grief is so admirable. Your Mum will be looking down on you, so proud of you. Big hugs all the way from England.
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I still have many things to learn as this journey of processing the grief continues. Either my mom would be proud of me, or feel embarrassed as I wrote about her in my blog. 🙂 Thank you, Hannah.
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It is rather an experience that will continuously shape me, guide me in making decisions, and help me appreciate life better. Such a powerful ending to this blog post, Bama. And so, so wise. Grief change and mold us in often unexpected ways, and the older we get, the more we will interact with grief. I have found that the journey is never quite the same, as people play different roles in our lives. I love that you are embracing your pain and grief in a myriad of different ways. I am not a fan of “always looking on the bright side”. The beauty and essence of our lives lie exactly in how we navigate the complexities of all the emotions we experience. Sending you a warm hug from one introvert to another. May time soften the pain of loss, even if you never outlive it.
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There was a time when I worked at a place where positivity was forced upon us, and it became very toxic. Now I believe that embracing all of our emotions is much healthier than just focusing on one. My mom passed away exactly a year ago today, and I still dream of her. But the dreams are no longer sad like how they were in the first few weeks after her passing. I won’t say I have managed to cope with the loss, though, as it still is a work in progress. Thank you for your kind words, Jolandi.
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I am glad to hear that you still dream of her, and that those dreams are no longer sad. You had such a special relationship with her, so I can understand your deep sense of loss.
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Bama, I will always remember your mom with so much fondness. The way she opened doors to your extended family, Javanese culture, and a whole new way of cooking enriched and added color to my life. As you know, my own mom had heard my stories from Semarang and was very much looking forward to meeting her someday in Hong Kong. Sometimes I wonder how it might have been if she’d been properly diagnosed and early enough before the cancer really spread. But we cannot change the past. At least we have those precious recipes and photos and videos to remember her by.
And the keepsake we retrieved from her kitchen the last time we went to your parents’ house in Semarang – your mom will be with us in spirit as we pound spices and aromatics into a paste with the volcanic stone mortar and pestle she used for so many years. When you’re ready, I look forward to recreating her home recipes to the best of our abilities. I will always be a shoulder to cry on if and when you need it.
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I’m glad you got to meet her so many times, James. You know how much she enjoyed looking at you sipping her opor, rawon, gandul, and other dishes. She really treated you like her own son, and she told me in several occasions that she really wanted to meet your mom.
I wish she had written down more of her recipes, but I’m still grateful to have found the ones I managed to salvage. You know, sometimes I still think of those times when she accompanied us at dinner, had a little bit of my fruit juice, and asked you what you thought of the dishes she made. Thank you so much for your emotional support, James.
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Bama, this is a very poignant and heartfelt post. I deeply sympathize with your loss and I think your approach towards dealing with your grief is courageous. I think you’re right that holding on to grief can be a positive when it helps you remember your lost loved ones and appreciate all the ways they were special in your life.
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Thank you, Hilton. I’m sure you can relate to the many things I have been feeling since I lost my mom last year. I hope you’re doing okay yourself in your own journey processing the grief.
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Yes, I certainly can relate to what you were going through. I do think about my father more and I think I am processing my grief ok.
Please excuse me for the late reply. I actually wrote my comments the night before going on a trip to Hong Kong and mainland China.
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No worries. I have been traveling myself until next week.
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What a beautiful and moving tribute to your mom. I remember this time last year when I read your post about her passing, and again, I am terribly sorry for your loss. I imagine it is almost impossible to get over this kind of grief, and I understand why you feel like in a way this keeps your mom close. While I can’t imagine what you are going through, I am sending you a big hug from Belgium. Thank you also for taking us through your hometown and such delicious-looking dishes. I was surprised to see the Dutch Poffertjes, that we see a lot in this part of the world!
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Thank you, Juliette. Now, she often appears in my dreams in a quite funny setting, I don’t know why. But I’m glad I still dream of her. Just last week I went to a restaurant in Jakarta and one of the things I had exactly tasted like my mom’s cooking. It made me miss her so much. Speaking of food, there are some dishes and snacks we have here that are vestiges of the Dutch colonial period. And I know Indonesian food is quite easy to find in the Netherlands now.
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Last summer marked the 10th anniversary of my mother dying of cancer. Unlike yours, Bama, her illness was a long ‘affair’. Originally diagnosed in ’08, she had a good life until 2014, when that bastard of an illness just… evolved. I remember the news that it’d turned methastatic.
I sometimes dream of her. I don’t have any recordings, just some photos – she shunned attention, something I think I inherited – but I try to live my life the way she lived hers: doing what’s right, speaking up when it’s needed or when no one else would, and don’t do your job for the accolades.
One thing that touched me of the day of her passing, and that I still think of at this moment, was one of her students (she was a high school teacher in a particularly ‘rough’ section of a ‘rough’ school). She died on the 11th of August, and we buried her on the 14th – in Italy, that’s peak summer, no one would be around. Yet, a few of her students came to her funeral. He caressed her coffin and said thanks.
Whenever I feel that she was short-changed in life – and she was – or that she was taken too soon – she was – I think of that moment. That’s legacy. And I wonder if I’ll ever live up to that standard.
I guess the long and short of all of this, Bama, is that there’s no other way on grief than through it. It’ll still be painful, but eventually it’ll become something more mellow. It does, believe me.
Fabrizio
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If my mom had been diagnosed a lot earlier, maybe she would’ve lived a few more years. But of course, I can’t turn back the time.
Your description of the things your mom taught you and the traits you inherited from her very much reminds me of my mom’s words to me when I was growing up.
Your mom must have left such a deep impact on her students, so much so some of them were willing to send her off to her final resting place. I wonder if any of my mom’s traditional dance students also came to visit to pay their last respects at her funeral. I remember there were a lot of people, and I didn’t know most of them.
Thank you so much for sharing your own story, Fabrizio. It’s very heartening yet sobering to learn about how others are dealing with their own loss. I wish we were physically closer so we could talk more about this.
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Bama, I am so sorry to have missed this beautiful, poignant remembrance post, I have been off the grid for too long. Your descriptions of your feelings of devastation when you walked into your mother’s empty, ‘soulless’ house, mirror mine when I returned home after my own mother’s passing (nearly two decades ago!). As does your hesitation to let go of your grief. The pain will recede in its own time, but the grief never really goes away. You’ll have moments when unbidden thoughts of your mother hit you like a brick. I think you know that those moments are blessings, reminders that she remains in your heart always. I love that your shared love of food is helping you heal and stay connected with your mother. Take care Bama, much love.
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Thank you, Madhu. Just a few days ago, I dreamed of her again. But now I have accepted the fact that she’s no longer with us. As you said, things like this are blessings, for they keep her in my mind. I still need to start recreating some of her dishes though. I hope all is well with you, Madhu.
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