Four days after I turned 29, two days before dad turned 68, and three months before she could turn 59, mom passed away.
She left like a sentence unfinished, hanging in the air. The morning started like any other morning, slowly, painfully. Perhaps, she herself didn’t know it would be her last. She dutifully complained about dad, asked if I had eaten, had some water and then imperceptibly slipped off to some other realm.
Till you see someone’s body lose its soul, you don’t understand the difference between a body or a mere shell and a living being. When the eyes become vacant and merely stare back, that’s when it selfishly strikes you how you’re incredibly lucky that your soul still has a home in its body, a body that responds to you, takes you around, fulfills your commands.
Mom had an incredible shell despite all the things that had happened to her. She still had a functional brain despite seizures, functional kidneys, a steady blood pressure rate, strong responses.
But her mind was something else. She had started getting detached from some time before. Festivals didn’t give her as much joy, her health would soar and dive, she would worry and fret over insignificant things… perhaps she knew she was reaching the end of her journey.
I don’t know what she saw in those final moments, whether she was comforted or not, whether she saw the light or her loved ones. But I hope that wherever she is, she is happy and at peace, that she takes a long break because she deserves one after all she has faced and gets lots and lots of love wherever she goes. And I hope that someday I get to meet her again and to tell her how incredibly lucky I was to have her as a mother.