My mother died the same day in 2012.
In the first months afterward..hmm...I felt an intense desire to write down the story of her death...to tell it over and over to friends.
I jotted down stray thoughts and memories in the middle of the night.
I used to be the happy-go-lucky type. You know...the one who always saw the proverbial silver lining.
This all changed in a few hours. My mother and I never had a perfect relationship...hmm...but who does?
We were friends...as well as family and definitely had our share of troubles.
But...we always worked past them and never doubted that we loved each other.
My mother's house was the town gathering place for friends and family. The moment you walked through the door, the smell of meal hit you first, followed by my mother's smile and warm greeting of welcome.
Morning..noon or night...you would find people around the kitchen table drinking tea…eating. This tradition had been handed down from my grandmother.
When our maid called me that mom is not responding and went to sleep between taking her tea.
I went into denial mode..hmm...not about her having gone to bed...but about the fact that she would die.
When I took her to the hospital...I really thought it would be like last time and she would spend a couple of weeks there..until she was stronger..and then come home.
When the doctor came out and told me that she had been peacefully dead long I should call the family...I went into protective mode.
I cared not what anyone else thought...only how I could make this easier on her. I wailed…I am sorry I never thought of myself crying like a little baby but I did…I cried a lot but soon I regain myself and my first call was to my eldest sister.
And I said to my elder sister…”I guess Ammi is going to dine today with Abbu”…to which my sister replied…”Don’t say this please…I promised her to bring her new mugs…besides she never liked Abbu….” Then she started crying and said…”I never dreamed she would go on to do that so soon.”
All of the family made it to her funeral. Having a large family was such a blessing at that time. All the support we gave each other, and our friends were wonderful and helpful too.
It was when they went home that it all started to sink in and when I began my transformation.
I am not sure how it happened..but I now find myself being cynical...seeing the bad rather than the good in people and situations..argumentative and sometimes just plain rude and mean.
I hate this !
I was never like this before..but I don't know how to change it.
My husband has been wonderful through it all...but I know it has to wear on his nerves.
I still find myself crying in the shower or while taking meal. I catch myself getting angry at even the smallest things.
I wear my heart on my sleeve and always think the worst first...whether it is about them or what they think of me.
I don't wish my mother back here..she is much better off where she is.
No pain...hmm...heartache or sorrow.
Although...I do think of a lot of things I would have liked to discuss with her...questions still unanswered and things I wish I had said.
But lets face the fact...every loss transform us sometimes the loss perfected our character sometimes snatched all the hopes...faith and happiness.
In the first months afterward..hmm...I felt an intense desire to write down the story of her death...to tell it over and over to friends.
I jotted down stray thoughts and memories in the middle of the night.
I used to be the happy-go-lucky type. You know...the one who always saw the proverbial silver lining.
This all changed in a few hours. My mother and I never had a perfect relationship...hmm...but who does?
We were friends...as well as family and definitely had our share of troubles.
But...we always worked past them and never doubted that we loved each other.
My mother's house was the town gathering place for friends and family. The moment you walked through the door, the smell of meal hit you first, followed by my mother's smile and warm greeting of welcome.
Morning..noon or night...you would find people around the kitchen table drinking tea…eating. This tradition had been handed down from my grandmother.
When our maid called me that mom is not responding and went to sleep between taking her tea.
I went into denial mode..hmm...not about her having gone to bed...but about the fact that she would die.
When I took her to the hospital...I really thought it would be like last time and she would spend a couple of weeks there..until she was stronger..and then come home.
When the doctor came out and told me that she had been peacefully dead long I should call the family...I went into protective mode.
I cared not what anyone else thought...only how I could make this easier on her. I wailed…I am sorry I never thought of myself crying like a little baby but I did…I cried a lot but soon I regain myself and my first call was to my eldest sister.
And I said to my elder sister…”I guess Ammi is going to dine today with Abbu”…to which my sister replied…”Don’t say this please…I promised her to bring her new mugs…besides she never liked Abbu….” Then she started crying and said…”I never dreamed she would go on to do that so soon.”
All of the family made it to her funeral. Having a large family was such a blessing at that time. All the support we gave each other, and our friends were wonderful and helpful too.
It was when they went home that it all started to sink in and when I began my transformation.
I am not sure how it happened..but I now find myself being cynical...seeing the bad rather than the good in people and situations..argumentative and sometimes just plain rude and mean.
I hate this !
I was never like this before..but I don't know how to change it.
My husband has been wonderful through it all...but I know it has to wear on his nerves.
I still find myself crying in the shower or while taking meal. I catch myself getting angry at even the smallest things.
I wear my heart on my sleeve and always think the worst first...whether it is about them or what they think of me.
I don't wish my mother back here..she is much better off where she is.
No pain...hmm...heartache or sorrow.
Although...I do think of a lot of things I would have liked to discuss with her...questions still unanswered and things I wish I had said.
But lets face the fact...every loss transform us sometimes the loss perfected our character sometimes snatched all the hopes...faith and happiness.