Goodbye

GOODBYE


Ten years ago was the last day I saw her eyes open.

My mother passed away on 20th July 2007. She breathed her last, or more like gasped for air, sometime in the morning around 07:30 am. I was awakened by the sounds of my aunt and my dad crying out in panic.

I was 15 years old at that time and to this day, I still remember each and every moment of it. It has been branded in my mind forever and no passage of time can erase them off – it is a futile exercise in itself; the idea of forgetting a day or a memory and yet, despite your best efforts, nothing changes. It stays fresh as a wound and every year, on this day, I relive those agonizing moments.

I got up and went to the bed, where she laid. The disease had finally laid waste of a once strong woman. Her bones were clearly visible, the skin down to the minimum. She was making a retching-type sound from her mouth, trying to breathe or perhaps, push air in her lungs. Her eyelids were partially closed and from the small part that was visible, I saw her pupils collapsed to the center. It felt like the light was dimming from her eyes.

My aunt had already started to cry and was holding her legs, trying to talk to her. Dad went to the kitchen. I approached her. I wasn’t sure whether she realized I was there next to her standing or not. Her body was so weak she couldn’t even move a muscle. I was at a loss of words, not sure what to say.

What does one do in such a situation? I did not dare say my goodbye; I did not want to even think about losing her. I felt scared. The ground felt sinking beneath my feet. My heart was going through a roller coaster of emotions – fear, panic, confusion. I felt as if a black weight was slowly descending on her, trying to crush the last vestiges of life clinging onto her. Not sure of what to do, I reached out and held her hand.

Dad returned with a glass of water and told me tearfully to make her drink from it. Watching my dad’s tear-stained face seemed to create an effect on me. It sapped me of my resolve. I had to face the inevitable and conclude that she was leaving this world for good.

I had hoped for a miracle since the day I had discovered she had HIV and had advanced to a rapid stage, slowly progressing into the dreadful AIDS. I remember crying my eyes out that night under the blanket, whispering to God, Jesus, Mother Mary to cure her; to heal her, she did not deserve this to happen to her. She did not deserve to see herself getting rejected for treatment by every private hospital because of her condition. She did not deserve to see herself become weak, watch how her body started to fail, feel the pain of not able to eat or drink anything or realizing that she could not walk or do anything on her own.

She did not deserve anything like this to happen to her.

Dad held her head up, while I brought the glass to her lips. I tilted the glass so that the water could flow into her mouth from her partially open lips. I was not even sure whether she wanted to drink it.

It was as if destiny willed or my mother waited for this to happen - she gave up the precise moment dad laid her head down.

I remember feeling numb for the millionth of a second, before the realization hit me of her death. The fact that the only woman I had ever loved in my whole life lay now as a lifeless corpse. I would no longer see her or talk to her or hear her. I started to cry. The tears felt hot and heavy. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, trying to remember each and every aspect of her face. I tried to remember desperately the sound of her voice, the sound of her laughter; to have them imbedded in the deepest recess of my brain to last a lifetime.

I lost a mother for the second time in my life.

The rest of the day was a blur. My siblings came home from school, their faces already covered in tears. As the day progressed, relatives came over and the house soon became crowded. Two of my school teachers, Miss. Sherly Paul and Miss. Arlene, came from school to attend the funeral. These two amazing women offered me words of comfort when I needed the most.

The initial shock of her death was slowly replaced by restlessness. I was feeling uneasy at the crowd of women bawling inside my house or the way the men were discussing how to take the coffin down from the seventh floor. I went to our neighbour’s house, who offered us tea, which I sipped gratefully. I remember lying down for some time at their place, while they bathed her.

She was dressed up in a sari. I saw the men had arranged flowers already.

Suddenly, I realized the moment was there at last. My mother was making her last march from our home – a home, where she stood in the doorway with my aunt to welcome me, when I came back from my boarding. The shock of that moment broke me down and my eyes were flooded with tears. I realized I was not ready to say her goodbye.

Even after 10 years later, I am still not ready to say goodbye to her..

The closing of the grave felt like a finality. She was finally free of the earthly pain. She was rid of the troubles plaguing her body, mind and soul. She had departed for good.


I often think of her some times, not just on this one day. I thought of her when I saw the ad of Tanishq of the son gifting his mother some jewellery. I thought of her when I see my friends bringing soft rotis for lunch in their tiffins. I thought of her when I sat down to wash clothes once and wondered how she did the same everyday all those years ago. I thought of her when I think how little she did and experienced in this tiny life of hers. But, I hope wherever she is now, she knows she did well.

My mother had once told a friend of hers that she wanted to be interred in the graveyard of Our Lady of Lourdes, Orlem church. I meant to preserve her bones and dutifully kept a tab for four years on the list of the reopened graves in the church’s notice board. But, when the time came, I slipped and probably committed one of the biggest regrets of my life. I did not do the same and this will be a regret I will be taking with me to my grave.

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Why is it that we respect and cherish things the most either at the end of it or in its absence? Not that I respected my mother when she was alive, I wish I had spent more time with her during the final years of her life. There was so much more to tell her.

If you kept reading this far, please take this as a request from me and spend some time with your mother and father today, Let them know you love them and care for them. Make them feel special, even if for 5 minutes. Lay your head on their shoulder or their lap, for not everyone of us is blessed with a comfort as sweet as this one.

Comments

  1. Wonderfully penned down Tony....
    We regret to realize the immense grace and blessings we have ...only to realize when its all.gone😑

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