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It was my mom’s 11th death anniversary just a few days ago. She passed away in 2001, just 4 months after my wedding, quite suddenly, just 52. This is a repost of a post I did a couple of years back on her.
It is not as if I do not feel the pain of losing her, but it has become blunt with passing time. A beautiful lady, too beautiful actually… as kids while growing up, my sister and I used to wonder why we could not have inherited her flawless beauty — beautiful straight hair, a radiant, glowing complexion and great features. Her slim body is what we have surely inherited :), at least. Coming from a well-to-do family, she had a very strict upbringing. She was extremely adept at cooking and also knew sewing, stitching, embroidery and crochet work. She knew how to make finger-licking pickles (I have inherited some of her passion for food). A vegetarian, she could churn out fabulous non-veg dishes without so much as tasting them. She was extremely friendly and social to my father’s reclusive nature. She was a simple homely lady, soft spoken with a warm demeanour, very dedicated to her family and extremely loving. When I was growing up, dad was a person we were afraid of — distant and strict. I hardly ever remember him giving us a hug or showing his emotions towards us, but mom more than made up for it with her affection. She kept the family well-knit and balanced.
As a kid, I looked up to my father more because of his intelligence, his well-informed self, his self-assured confidence and his professional integrity and success; that was how I wanted to be. Mom was someone always there for me – not someone I hero worshipped. I loved her no doubt, but I did take her and her role in my life for granted. It was only when she went away suddenly and then when I had my kids that I missed her the most. There were times when I picked up the phone to call her and then quietly put it down. Oh how brutally I missed her. I can relate to her so much more, now that I have my own family. I want to share stories about my kids with her. I want to swap recipes with her. I want to learn from her wisdom of bringing us up. There is so much talking to do, but she is not there. There is this huge void in my life with her absence, which will always stay with me. Every time, I visit dad, I sort of look for her in his home. So cruel is fate.
I cherish my memories of her, and I derive my strength from her when I am lonely or sick or feeling sad. I regale my kids with incidents of my childhood and make sure that they know their nani from their mom’s eyes!
I miss you terribly, and I love you deeply, mom. You were the best ma there ever could be. Thank you for blessing my life with your love, strength and resolve. I hope you are always watching over me.
PS: It is true that a mother’s soul rests in her kids. When she was very sick, my brother and sister were in the same town. I was in the US and was flying back. She was watching the video of my marriage, seeing my pictures and albums and hanging on to dear life for me. I remember crystal clear that when I arrived early morning, my sis whisked me straight to the hospital where she was. I spent time with her; she was in the ICU. In the evening, she slipped into coma and passed away 4 days later. And to think that I always thought that she loved the elder sister more than me!
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