This day has been one of those quiet, pale and blank days leaving me with a feeling of melancholy. I found myself drowned in thoughts thorough out the day recollecting that dreaded moment which had left us in a state of shock – K mama passing away. It’s been exactly one year since we have lost our beloved mama. Mama, we miss you.
He was hale and healthy, young and energetic, firm and caring. He posed to be strict but yet filled with love and affection. He was quiet, yet jovial. He was never in distress until he sensed a shooting pain in his chest causing him to go unconscious within seconds. A massive heart attack took his life away on 31 August 2006 at 11.30 pm. It is incredibly difficult for me to look back and think how my aunt (S), my little cousins, his parents, siblings went through that phase, that pain. S did everything in her capacity to fight the reality, but destiny made it’s choice, giving her no chance to undo his death. It wrenched her to watch him go. We did not see this coming at all. How can you accept someone close to you disappearing into the void all of a sudden? How can this be? How can we let go? Whom do we appeal to justify? The abrupt ending to his life feels so cruel.
When Abhi and I landed here (July 2006), in a new place, miles and miles away from our people, a new world altogether, least we wanted to anticipate was to react to such news. When I woke up that morning, trying to catch up with our routine, a phone call just about to deliver this message was a bane indeed. On hearing the news, I blanked out and found myself in a terrible state of mind, emotions uncontrolled. How much I wanted to run back home and see everyone. How much I wanted to be by S’s side. Coming all the way far, leaving everyone everything seemed so pointless to me. It hit me all the more as I had dreamt about mama a week before he passed away and decided to wait until the weekend to talk to him about my dream, but how unfortunate. I did not hear his voice I did not see him react to my talks, did not hear that “Heg ideeya Putta?” He was so prompt in seeing people off when they travelled – be it his friends or relatives. Each time my dad went abroad, he used to come all the way from Hassan to see him off, but when we left to London, he was caught up with some work and missed meeting each other. I mentioned to Abhi in the airport, that I missed seeing mama before leaving, but always thought would talk to him once we settle in the new place. Well, death is final and leaves you wishing you had said this or done that but you don’t have a second chance. It leaves you with lasting memories.
I am writing a poem that got tears in my eyes at the very first glance. This acts as a healer in such situations. (Thanks to Noon).
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
- Mary Fyre.
