Fifteen years! How long
is fifteen years? It’s very hard to say. I still remember when I was fifteen; I
was in ninth grade, full of vigor, full of energy, had my first crush, no
thinking about tomorrow, life revolved around the next football match and which
song to listen to. That time fifteen years seemed like forever. Comparing that fifteen years with the last
fifteen years the relativeness, futility, and sorrow of life comes into full
perspective. I will never forget that moment
fifteen years ago in September of 2004 when I first realized that my mother is
no longer able to read and write. The woman who taught me everything, who held two
master's degrees, was unable to recognize her own handwriting and could not
figure out a single letter. A few weeks
later doctors diagnosed her with early stages of Alzheimer’s. One of the rarest
forms of pre-senile dementia. She had just turned forty-nine. My entire world
shook in a minute. I didn’t know what was next. All my plans, hopes, and dreams
dashed in a single shudder. Life stood still. Doctors just gave us two years to a maximum of three.
I don’t know how the
past fifteen years went by. Every day was suffering, pain piled up over pain, the sisyphean ordeal, a fight against invisible disease without any cure. Slowly
she lost her faculties, senses and eventually bedridden. In those years I got an engineering degree, drew the first salary, published a book, got a tenured job, got married, and had a baby.
But my mother was unbeknownst to all of these, all my life’s milestones she
never knew. God knows how I longed to hear her voice at least just for once.
But despite that I knew every night when I spoke to her before I went to sleep,
deep down she understood. Now after all these years of struggle against
unwinnable battle finally she drew her last breath on Tuesday.
Losing one’s mother is
the greatest irreparable loss one can ever experience. Now after consigning her
to flames, a huge void, an abysmal emptiness has been left behind in my heart.
But I know at least now she is free, emancipated from all the pain, and nothing
can harm her anymore. And for me, that is an ultimate solace. All I can think of
right now is the poignant line by Yann Martel - “Afterwards, when it's all
over, you meet God. What do you say to God?”
Rest well Maiya. Love
you. Always.