Letting Go, Holding On: A Mother’s Journey from KLIA to Today

While scrolling through my Google Photos recently, a set of pictures stopped me in my tracks—Alycia and Sherilyn at KLIA, dated 3 December 2017. It has been almost eight years, yet that day remains so vivid in my heart. Alycia was only 14 and Sherilyn, 12. They were all smiles, bags in hand, ready to board a plane to Hong Kong without any adult accompanying them. Just the two of them, flying across borders like little adventurers.

Those photos brought back a wave of emotions. I still remember the hesitation and anxiety brewing inside me. What if something happened? What if they needed help? I was a bundle of nerves, but deep down, I knew I had to learn to let go—at least a little. Their eldest aunt in Hong Kong had generously bought them two return air tickets for a 2-week holiday, and I didn’t want my fear to rob them of a memorable experience.

It was not their first trip to Hong Kong; both girls had been there twice prior. And thankfully, the airline arranged for a flight stewardess to escort them to the plane, and upon return, another stewardess accompanied them from the aircraft right to the waiting area. Still, watching them disappear through the departure gate without me was one of those parenting moments where pride and fear hold hands tightly.

Those two weeks turned out magical for them. They spent precious time with their aunts and grandma, bonding, exploring, and growing up in ways every mother hopes for her children. And surprisingly, I didn’t worry as much as I thought I would. I knew they were safe, loved, and learning independence in the best way possible.

Since then, Alycia has seen more of the world — traveling with us, and later, with her best friends. Every trip reminds me how quickly children grow, and how important it is for mothers to loosen the grip so they can spread their wings.

As for me, I still dream of traveling again soon. The only thing stopping me now is not my kids—but my fur kid, Haru. After a traumatic cat boarding experience last year where she refused to eat, drink, pee, or poo for almost three days, I told myself I’d never leave her at a boarding centre again. Now I hesitate to plan any trip unless I find someone Haru truly trusts. Silly, right? But that’s just who I am—deeply attached to my children, and to my little feline shadow.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so emotional. But then again, love makes us this way. Looking back at that day in KLIA reminds me that motherhood is a constant dance of holding on and letting go. And no matter how old they get, that dance never really ends.

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