Tribute to mother

She loved the spring season when trees would burst out into colour

There is a strange void in our lives. The 89-year-old lady who was a permanent fixture in the corner bedroom is suddenly no more. She was the anchor that influenced our lives, rarely giving advise unless we asked her for it, yet making her ample presence felt on numerous occasions. Her proximity was enough, we knew she was always there for us. Now we notice a strange indescribable vacuum, a feeling of emptiness when we do go to the room and look at the empty bed! Very painfully we realise that now we need to pick up the threads and face the world with fortitude; all by ourselves.

For the last several years she had taken a keen interest in the outdoors. She loved the spring season when Bengaluru's Gulmohars, the gorgeous Pink Cassias, the purple Jacarandas, and the yellow flowering Tabebuia trees, would burst out into colour. On weekends, full of life and vigour, she would visit friends, meet people and discover new restaurants. There were several occasions when she went overzealous about her grandson, exclaiming how she enjoyed his company more than being with her own kids. She adapted very well to technology to do "Face-Time" with her grandkids in America!

All this was too good to last. Age caught up with her and she began to prefer staying at home complaining of drowsiness and a tired feeling all the time, necessitating a visit to the hospital for a diagnosis.

Gradually, her strength began to ebb, making her even more weak and helpless. Simple things began to make her panicky. She was worried about being dependent and unable to do anything on her own and to take care of herself! Our reassurances that we were always there never made an impression. She had always been very good with numbers and to check her alertness, we would give her elementary numerical sums to solve — she would playfully oblige for a while before tiring of this game.

The microbleeds and edema in her cerebellum began to take its toll. The brain tumour was totally unforgiving. First, it was difficulty eating solid food, then liquids became difficult to swallow, till finally, it was heavy and unnatural breathing. Eventually, she drifted off into a coma from which she could never recover.

The lilies in her garden have taken upon themselves to flower with a vengeance. She had always watered and cared for them, insisting on regularly adding manure herself. She would often wonder who would look after her plants when she would pass away, treating our reassurances with disdain. Now that the flowers are in full bloom we feel like taking a picture,
only there is no way the image will reach her now!

Mothers occupy a special place in our lives and our hearts and although "Life has to go on" lots of time will have to roll before we can enter her corner bedroom again and see her i-Pad lying idle, without skipping a heartbeat!