She is gone. Yes, my mother has finally left this world. She died a
fortnight ago, and I'm yet to come to terms with the fact that she would
never pick my call on her cell phone and say, ' Hey son, all well?
Last time she spoke to me was a day before she fell unconscious. She said, 'Come soon to see me for the last time. I won't live long.' She appeared very weak, but cheerful as always. ' She never regained her consciousness, as she had a heart attack the following day along with severe kidney ailment.
Next day, I got a call from Dad that Mom had been hospitalized and was being shifted to ICU. Within an hour I was airborne, and by late evening I was with her in the hospital. Her eyes were closed and, despite my best efforts to communicate, she didn't respond.
For the next seven days, I continued with my effort to let her know that I had come to see her but with no acknowledgement from her. May be, because she was under heavy sedation.
On the eighth day, in the morning hours, when I was trying to communicate with her again, 2 drops of tears rolled down from her eyes even though she was physically non-responsive: Finally, she could confirm through tears that she was hearing my words.
That was her last conversation with me, if at all you call it so. Next day, she fell silent, forever!
While returning home (New Delhi) from Guwahati, where she breathed last , I decided to carry her mobile phone along: Same phone, I used to call her up on; same phone, through which she used to inspire me when I was going through the worst crisis of my life; same phone, that had witnessed how dependent a son is on his mother.
Even now, sometime, I call her up on the same number and notice my name blinking on the screen. I know she would never speak with me again, but I still dial her number. It's ridiculous, I know; Have I gone insane, I don't know.
Between knowing and not, I did realize that I have lost my biggest source of inspiration for ever. Yes, life would never be same again; however, I have no option but to keep moving and moving and moving!
Last time she spoke to me was a day before she fell unconscious. She said, 'Come soon to see me for the last time. I won't live long.' She appeared very weak, but cheerful as always. ' She never regained her consciousness, as she had a heart attack the following day along with severe kidney ailment.
Next day, I got a call from Dad that Mom had been hospitalized and was being shifted to ICU. Within an hour I was airborne, and by late evening I was with her in the hospital. Her eyes were closed and, despite my best efforts to communicate, she didn't respond.
For the next seven days, I continued with my effort to let her know that I had come to see her but with no acknowledgement from her. May be, because she was under heavy sedation.
On the eighth day, in the morning hours, when I was trying to communicate with her again, 2 drops of tears rolled down from her eyes even though she was physically non-responsive: Finally, she could confirm through tears that she was hearing my words.
That was her last conversation with me, if at all you call it so. Next day, she fell silent, forever!
While returning home (New Delhi) from Guwahati, where she breathed last , I decided to carry her mobile phone along: Same phone, I used to call her up on; same phone, through which she used to inspire me when I was going through the worst crisis of my life; same phone, that had witnessed how dependent a son is on his mother.
Even now, sometime, I call her up on the same number and notice my name blinking on the screen. I know she would never speak with me again, but I still dial her number. It's ridiculous, I know; Have I gone insane, I don't know.
Between knowing and not, I did realize that I have lost my biggest source of inspiration for ever. Yes, life would never be same again; however, I have no option but to keep moving and moving and moving!
