And Then She Went Away.
On 29th November 2016 morning as I went down the stairs of my house, I heard my mother speaking on the phone. She was laughing away. I looked at my watch, realised I was just about on schedule for office and left. Only later was I know that she was having a really happy conversation with my youngest brother.
Actually every day before leaving for office I would see her. She had her share of medical problems including diabetes but with regular check ups and medical care, she was quite ok.
At office, I was busy with some colleagues in office when my daughter rang up and asked me to rush home as my mother was unwell. I told her to call the ambulance while I would get ready to leave office. Little was I to know that she was already no more, my daughter being the only one to see her pass on peacefully, as a massive cardiac arrest took her away forever.
My lasting regret is that I could not see her one last time, that day if only I had stopped to exchange greetings with her instead of zooming off. This till today haunts me, is it logical, absolutely not. But then logic and emotions are rarely compatible.
This is what death does. A strange feeling of a vacum in one's life remains and as the days roll on, the certainty of the event creates a peculiar type of emptiness. Its there around you as you learn to cope with it, including ensuring life carries on as before.
And a sudden death, as in this case, is like a boxer's hit to the abdomen. It just knocks you out for a while. Specially when all medical tests of just a couple of days ago indicate all is well. But then fate does what it has to and was meant to do. You just have to face it up with equanimity. And move on. Move on I will as will my dad, who at ninty is the hardest hit.
Life actually signals in many ways that we should simply carry on. And so we should. All the rituals also take you along this route. But that feeling of regret or maybe guilt of a last conversation refuses to go away. I thought why not write it down and maybe, just maybe, it helps out in moving on.
The little things I can live with, the tying of the sacred thread on my wrist every time I took leave, the knitting of a beret every winter at Srinagar or Shimla no matter how strong the arthritis, the prayers on "Hoi" and the like. But yes the permanent feeling of knowing there is no looking back can be rather too much at times. Specially initially, then the office, mundane chores at home, other relationships keep you moving on. That's what life is meant to be in any case.
As they say, the only difference in reading any book and the book of life is that there is no turning back the pages of the book of life. You only turn over to a new page, with or without regrets, with or without happiness.
I will sign of now with her snap taken a few months back at my daughter's engagement. And then a snap from 1959. When she accompanied my father to a two year course at the Canadian Army Staff College at Kingston. The snap is of them meeting the then Commandant and counted among her favourite snaps.
On 29th November 2016 morning as I went down the stairs of my house, I heard my mother speaking on the phone. She was laughing away. I looked at my watch, realised I was just about on schedule for office and left. Only later was I know that she was having a really happy conversation with my youngest brother.
Actually every day before leaving for office I would see her. She had her share of medical problems including diabetes but with regular check ups and medical care, she was quite ok.At office, I was busy with some colleagues in office when my daughter rang up and asked me to rush home as my mother was unwell. I told her to call the ambulance while I would get ready to leave office. Little was I to know that she was already no more, my daughter being the only one to see her pass on peacefully, as a massive cardiac arrest took her away forever.
My lasting regret is that I could not see her one last time, that day if only I had stopped to exchange greetings with her instead of zooming off. This till today haunts me, is it logical, absolutely not. But then logic and emotions are rarely compatible.
This is what death does. A strange feeling of a vacum in one's life remains and as the days roll on, the certainty of the event creates a peculiar type of emptiness. Its there around you as you learn to cope with it, including ensuring life carries on as before.
And a sudden death, as in this case, is like a boxer's hit to the abdomen. It just knocks you out for a while. Specially when all medical tests of just a couple of days ago indicate all is well. But then fate does what it has to and was meant to do. You just have to face it up with equanimity. And move on. Move on I will as will my dad, who at ninty is the hardest hit.
Life actually signals in many ways that we should simply carry on. And so we should. All the rituals also take you along this route. But that feeling of regret or maybe guilt of a last conversation refuses to go away. I thought why not write it down and maybe, just maybe, it helps out in moving on.
The little things I can live with, the tying of the sacred thread on my wrist every time I took leave, the knitting of a beret every winter at Srinagar or Shimla no matter how strong the arthritis, the prayers on "Hoi" and the like. But yes the permanent feeling of knowing there is no looking back can be rather too much at times. Specially initially, then the office, mundane chores at home, other relationships keep you moving on. That's what life is meant to be in any case.
As they say, the only difference in reading any book and the book of life is that there is no turning back the pages of the book of life. You only turn over to a new page, with or without regrets, with or without happiness.
I will sign of now with her snap taken a few months back at my daughter's engagement. And then a snap from 1959. When she accompanied my father to a two year course at the Canadian Army Staff College at Kingston. The snap is of them meeting the then Commandant and counted among her favourite snaps.
ReplyDeleteYes, it is natural to grieve the loss of family members particularly of mother or son, as we will immediately have to adjust to living without their presence and missing them as part of our lives. At a certain moment, the world seems suddenly so empty and the sense of desperation appears to be eternity. The greater the element of grief and personal loss one tends to feel sorry for oneself as it happened in your case. The death of a loved one, or even someone we were not close to, is terribly painful event, as time goes on and the people we know pass away along the journey of life, we are reminded of our own inevitable ends in waiting and everything is a blip of transience and impermanent.
But at the same time dear Dinesh Kumar Kapila ji, I feel that how calm and peaceful death of your mother was. No pain no regret and she was gone. Our lives and all that occurs in our lives is a result of Karma. These were her good karmas that made excellent path for her leave her physical body so peacefully.
I often feel that regret is knitted into our human existence and we need to negotiate our way through its brambles. Also, the constant reminder of the fragility of life dogs our steps. Between these and many other limitations, we meander on.
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