I come home everyday to be greeted by my mother, I see her smile but I know she’s lost the spark. Our conversations never stretch beyond how was your day and what’s the news today because I know her day is spent all inside the house or few metres around it. I try my best to inject life into her monotonous routine by taking her walking and shopping but I know a few hours journey ends up taking a whole day with her. Walking few hundred metres down the road she asks me to find a seat for her. She can’t walk anymore… It’s those muscles again. Jazzing up her day makes me feel guilty when I return home to see her crying in pain. I feel restless, we feel restless.
It wasn’t like this. It was only five years ago when we all walked around Taj Mahal and hunted for the best bargains in the street. Now I feel it’s a success if she makes it to at least 4 stores in a day.
It wasn’t like this. She used to be the coolest mum I knew. I went to my first concert with her. Whilst the 11 year old me rocked out to Nirnaya’s beat at the BICC ground, my mum stood by me shaded by her umbrella.
When I come home from parties and various do’s she looks at me excited willing to know what I’ve been up to. I can see that she wants to be part of it. She wants to know the fun I had, she wants to have fun. But her fun is very limited and needs lots of planning. Sometimes it’s hard for us to keep up with her mood swings, she’s always on the edge. We try our level best and I know that’s all she wants.
I miss the old her the most, because I spent the most time with her as a child. I miss the old her most, the mum who used to take me to the park when dad was never there.
I wish the operation had never happened, or at least I had one of my family members with me there. I wish the doctor never screwed up the operation. There’s a lot that I wish for, but I’ve realised they’re just a distant dream never to be fulfilled. Next year they will celebrate their 25th year anniversary… but why wait till next. Life is long for some, short for others and unpredictable for many. Let each day and moment become a celebration for us; I celebrate being with my family in Rome today. It saddens me that my mum cannot see as much beauty that I have been able to see, it saddens me even more when I know that my dad is willing to explore but he remains patient and attentive by her side. That is love; in sickness and in health.
I came back from the city today and she was there in her hotel room and she looked at me excitedly and asked me which monuments I visited.