![](https://i.imgsafe.org/81/81384dee15.jpeg)

After the [post yesterday](https://steemit.com/life/@maverickfoo/the-strawberry-entrepreneur), one of my friend PMed me and shared with me how during his tough times as an entrepreneur, his wife would secretly slid in notes into his wallet, knowing it's low or empty. He went on to say how those gestures meant a lot to him.

That triggered a memory in me. One that haven't been visited for a while, so thanks Nic for the reminder.

Now, I've the priviledge of having great clients with huge contracts, and have earned a development grant before, which was also quite sizeable. And yet, no matter how much I raised now and in the future, I've always knew I couldn't beat an earlier amount I raised when I started Plaseed.com many years ago.

So yeah, most entrepreneurs will tell you that they all have dark times when they don’t know when the next deal will come in, and watching the bank account delete is just no fun. After going through that a couple of times, even thinking about it will give me goosebumps still. Probably an etched memory.

It was no different when I started Plaseed, which is my 5th business. Previous 4 failed, so not exactly a good track record there.

One of those early days, the feeling was heavy as I got ready for “work”. Truth be told, while I do have sales meetings that day, it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t have lots of cash left, and whatever I had left was emptied out of the bank account the night before. The RM80+ in my wallet coupled with some loose change was what supposed to last me for the next few days (or weeks, depending on how the sales meetings go).

As I leave my bed room and head to pack my stuff, reading to head out, I habitually slipped my wallet into my back pocket. I noticed it was thicker, heavier, different. I took it out, wanting to clear any receipts that I may have accidentally inserted along with my notes, and I saw five pieces of RM50 behind my RM80.

![](https://i.imgsafe.org/81/814731fc71.jpeg)

*“Wait, that can’t be right.”* I thought, because I clearly saw the transaction slip the night before. I was even thanking the ATM machine for being able to dispense RM80 at a go, and allowing me to leave a few cents in there.

And then, I noticed someone staring at my back from the living room. I turned around and saw my Ma there. I looked at me with a weak smile, and her kind eyes. Worn out eyes, but kind, caring, generous and wise eyes.

She nodded at me, and I looked down. Though the burden of bills were on my shoulder, heavy as it was, it wasn’t as heavy as what I felt in my heart at that time. But it’s not those constricting, pressing sensations. No. It’s those genuine heartfelt emotions that echos through the ages, that stands the test of time. True enough, even when I’m telling you this, I still can feel that weight.

And I can still feel the tears filling up at the edge of my eyes. Then, and now.

That’s why I looked down. Logically, I knew there was nothing to be ashamed about my Ma helping me out once in a while, for she had done so for the past 30+ years of my life, but on an emotional level, it meant something totally different.

Yeah, it’s no joke failing in business four times in a short span of 8 years. I know comparatively to my idols - the Jobs, the Gates, the Musks of the world - it’s small, but owning up to my Ma, it wasn’t easy. You see, failure is an easier pill to swallow when you’re taking it alone. But when you are in the presence of others, especially those closest to you, though they did not even utter a single world of disappointment, you will feel it. Perhaps it’s the unspoken words, that’s why it cuts deeper. You will feel it.

So there I was, 30 at that time, looking at my Ma, fighting 4th stage cancer, a monster that had relapsed a while ago. It went at her with a vengance. She couldn’t walk without a cane, she couldn’t eat most of what she desired deep down, and being adventurous and curious, she couldn’t drive. (She once told me that as long as you have fuel and a mouth, you will never get lost.)

![](https://i.imgsafe.org/81/815c45d0eb.jpeg)

In was in that stare that a conversation took place. No words were exchanged, no gestures nor body langauge. And yet, we understood each other perfectly.

*“Yong (my real name is less glamorous, mind you). It’s not sympathy money. It’s not “I-told-you-so” money. It’s not even a loan. It’s just to buy you some time, to buy you a moment of peace. Peace of mind. So you can make better decisions, so you worry a little lesser, so you can turn on the A/C in the car later because it’s really hot today.* 

*"You don’t have to tell me if you need more, nor do you have to feel bad about it. Just go out with a steady heart, an honest intention, and as long as you add value in those sales meetings, you’d done your job. Never let people walk away with the same as they walk in to the meeting. Always, always add value. And good things will come. Don't have to expect it, but know it will come.”*

She smiled and went back to reading her book. I wiped the tears off my face and put the wallet back in my back pocket.

I just raised the largest amount of money in my entire life. RM250.

Truth is, I never really returned her just the RM250 investment. She made a lot more ROI that the % would make most VCs envy. Sure, she got the money back, more dinners spent, more deep conversations late into the night.

*But what truly was the impact of the investment?* That lesson, that conversation, that memory. Of course I missed her since the five years of her passing, but everyday I lived her lessons the best that I can, and every good deed that I do, every impact that I create, every gesture that I make, it is, and always will be, in her memory.

*“Yong, you don’t have to tell me what you’ve done, how well you’re doing, no report cards, no bank statements. When others see you do good deeds, I can only hope that they think I did a good job raising you.”*

*Ma, wherever you are, I think you did.*

![](https://i.imgsafe.org/81/813823aeda.jpeg)

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*Wait, why's Mav posting on Steemit nowadays?*

Well, unlike other blogging and social media platform, **Steemit** is the only platform that allows me to earn cryptocurrency when I engage with it. Yup, one Steem is about USD1, and you, too, can earn Steem Dollars every time you:

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Sign up for a [free Steemit account](https://steemit.com/pick_account), and you can thank me by coming back and upvoting this article. And guess what, you will earn Steem too for doing that! #awesome

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