Far and beyond...

Have innumerable memories from our times and ordeal together. Had promised myself, will jot down every single thing we went through but just cannot get myself to do it. They are still as fresh, still as painful and it seems very unlikely that they will mellow down any time soon. These are just some of the moments that we, my mother, and I shared during those taxing times. They have always remained hidden deep within, but if sharing can heal...so be it!

Six years and sill the ache is just as intense and memories just as clear. Still haven’t found a life that can be lived without you. Every morning first waking thoughts are of you, every night the tired mind thinks only of you. In every moment of gratitude, you are bowed to and in every pain, you are looked up to. The final year spent around you was the most painful yet so precious…

Your chemo sessions were a breeze, the chemo months horrendous! Never again were two days alike…at times you were chirpy and gay and at others, you shut yourself away from the world. You would crave to take a bite of your favorite food but the moment the food touched your lips and slowly slipped through your throat, you found it utterly tasteless and no amount of salt would give you the missing taste of salt - Chemo had worked its wonders in ways it wasn’t meant to…

Still vividly remember the lazy afternoon when you unknowingly ran your fingers between your hair and your fingers held a bunch of hair that had come off the scalp. That look on your face, I can never forget…of a child parting with its favorite toy realizing it will never come back! Without any exchange of words, I got a pair of scissors and you obediently sat in front of the dressing table mirror and we talked about this and that, all through, while your hair was being chopped at lengths. I had a huge lump in my throat, a tear hid just behind the eye…

Your surgery was a difficult one! Seeing you immediately after, still covered in blood, moaning in pain was and still is the most heart-wrenching sight. Probably that was the only time I didn’t see any hope…

Post-surgery, your ten-step walks were our most awaited moments… how much we looked forward to it, how much we laughed through it and how much we detested the tubes and pouches that hung around you, making your every step a wee bit more challenging. You expressed your only wish - to be able to run a long stretch even if, only for a few minutes…

The wounds of your surgery took months to heal. We had to do the heavy bandage dressing every morning and I would make a clumsy job out of it. Many a time the whole thick dressing would just slip off in a few minutes. But your trust in allowing only me to do it ignited the will to attain a new skill. On hospital visits, I would request the doctors to let me do it under their supervision and there I was…after which never once did the bandages budge even an inch!

Once your wounds started drying and the huge stapled pins started troubling you, without thinking twice I gently pulled them out of your drying skin. The look you gave and the kiss you placed on my forehead is frozen in time…

The visits to physiotherapists would leave you drained, not because of endless waits but because you no longer could lift your heavily swollen, cut, and stitched arm beyond a certain height and they would expect you to miraculously swing your arm to validate their paid by the hour competence.

When on multiple occasions you had to be suddenly hospitalized, I would sit next to your bed, at times holding your hand, at others lightly stroking your forehead. You would always feel guilty about me having to put in my time and I would always assure you it’s where I wanted to be. We would talk endlessly about ‘little’ things but never speak on the ‘huge’ thing looming over our lives. Those are the moments I’ll always cherish and I know those were the times you made a wish for me and they started taking shape once you were…

So very distinctly I remember the final time you had to be taken to the hospital, as we stepped out of the house you looked back and scanned the room, your gaze halted at papa’s photo, and in your pain, you smiled your best. You squeezed my hand with all your might and I held you extra tight…

That night in your hospital room you were seething in pain, I held you in my arms from the back and this is how we sat cradled together for a couple of hours. In those silent moments only one song played through my mind, ’लग जा गले कि फिर से यह हसीन रात हो ना हो , शायद फिर इस जन्म में मुलाक़ात हो ना हो…’  You were then wheeled out to the ICU to breathe your last.