Giving up the things we love

Soon after her first hospitalisation (a year before she died), we brought mom home. She was in a foul mood which was understandable. She was angry that some of the things she had stored had been thrown away. Being a packrat, she collected almost anything, including packets, in inordinate amounts.

Then she threw a tantrum about wanting to eat a sweetmeat. Test results showed that she had high sugar levels, so giving her sweets was farthest from our mind. She went wild, and almost started crying. And then, quite suddenly, she recovered her composure and said that she didn’t want sweets, that she didn’t even like them anymore and all she had wanted was to change the taste in her mouth. It alarmed me that she gave up something she so wanted in a moment.

True to her word, she never did eat those sweets ever again and never asked for them either.

Towards the end, she gave up many more things, without once veering back, including me and dad.

She was staunch that way, and she remained herself till the end, firm about what she liked and what she didn’t. And I love her for it.

Big things didn’t matter to her, for her a packet or a small trinket was worth just as much as gold. And could be given up also if times became dire. 

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