As I write this, I’m travelling out of town for few days and the hardest thing I have done in the last couple of weeks is to wish my mother a goodbye tonight.
I’m 38, happily unmarried and mourning.
After my dad’s unforeseen demise in the early hours of 4th November last year, my quotidian world has narrowed down from two individuals – my parents, to just one – my mother. A caring younger sister and brother-in-law, their adorable 6-year-old daughter Charvie very tiny bunch of close-knit cousins, two friends Krishna and Shiv who will stand through thick and thin and a biased heartfelt care for someone in particular make-up my extended personal world.
As the distance between me and my home in Bengaluru get’s extended with every passing mile, an aura of deep desolation has started to engulf my soul. Slowly, my heart is getting heavier, my fingers are turning cold and I’m feeling helplessly empty.
She is 64, sadly widowed and mourning.
Since my dad’s death, now my mother’s world revolves solely around her home. She keeps herself occupied with a bit of reading, watching television, cooking and everyday chores. With a tradition that does not allow a woman to visit any other home for 12 months after her husband’s death, the only time my mother get’s out of the house is for her daily walk. Once or twice a day she speaks to her daughter, sisters and few relatives on phone. Once in a while some of my cousins visit home.
On the other hand, I spend 6 to 8 hours away from home. I have things and means which can keep me occupied at worst of the moments – there are books, music, internet, a laptop and a smartphone with access to unlimited possibilities.
Right at this moment, I feel selfish for leaving my mother behind and travel all by myself. Given half a chance, I want to turn around, get back home, look at her surprised face and assure my mother that I never want to leave her home alone, never again.