I’ll never receive her phone call again
I won’t get that warm welcome,
I won’t get that warm hug and tons of appreciation,
I won’t get those food items slipped in my bag pockets,
I don’t miss her actively (perhaps that’s how humans survive),
But when these thoughts cross my mind,
I can’t stop my tears.
She was almost always a happy person.
But by the time I reached, her face had turned blue on top of the freezing device that her body was put on. Badi Mummy left for heavenly abode in the morning of Aug 31. I received the news after a few hours in Singapore. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I had spoken to her just a few days back and there was no sign of health anomaly. She was diagnosed with cancer 12 years ago but she had defeated it already.
She survived through the complex surgery, chemotherapies, radiotherapy and everything in between and before like a real champion.
Two weeks before this sad news, we had spoken over a video call and she was emotional. Tears rolling down her eyes, she asked how many days it would take for me to reach in case she is no more as she would want me around for her last rites. I obviously pacified her but never thought she really meant it.
But next week she was all fine and in jolly mood, and advised me and my wife to enjoy our life as much as we can. She kept on saying “enjoy — this time will never come again”.
Perhaps she knew. Perhaps she didn’t. We can’t tell.
We will only miss her next time we click this family pic.
For a few days after her death, I really started questioning every materialistic thing beyond basic food, clothing and shelter. This loss has had a deep impact on me.
It’s tough to say if the soul of a human being is really immortal. I do wish for it to be like that so she could appreciate everything we tried in our power to bid her the best farewell.
(I’ll keep updating this post with emotions as they come in…)
