The Wisdom of Grief: Two Years Later

Two years. Blows my mind. Oh, what is time – really? Yet it seems to be experienced so very potently in this moment. It seems like she was around so long ago. Yet only two years back. Yet already two years. 730 motherless days. 730 days with a silent mother. 730 days with the Divine Mother now. A beautiful gift from our mother. She is now The Mother.

Still her form is missed. Her mouth-watering home-cooked Indian meals (The way in which she exuded her love the most.). Her laugh. Her smile. Her care. Her devotion. Her commitment. The sound of her voice. Her smell.

These days her absence is felt most as I observe my father age rapidly these last two years. He is fading. Slipping away. In his health. In his resilience. 46 years with her at his side. The devoted Indian wife, she was. I imagine now he realizes just how dedicated she was to him. How much she actually did for him, that is. Now that he is alone. And doing so much himself. Or relying on his daughters to do it for him.

Just as he said the moment we decided to pull the plug the day after she suddenly collapsed in front of him at home – “My right arm has been cut off.” Indeed, witnessing our father’s great grief is the most potent experience of my mother’s absence these days. Observing his loneliness. His struggle. His rapid decline. And my heart aches for him, in response. And the seeming reality of knowing all too well, what is around the next bend. Breaks my heart.

And then it will be her birthday, or mother’s day – or like today, the anniversary of her death. And I will feel her more, as she morphs from the seeming subtle to the seeming well-defined. This is by no means an unfolding from the mind. Rather, it seems to be rising up from the depths of a cellular plane. In this way, I feel more deeply the space she left so abruptly. And that heartache that formed that day she so unexpectedly vanished – the one that has become subtler with the passage of time – now becomes more pronounced. Sharper. And more hollow.

For our mothers are our first teachers. And we will never ever forget them.
Two years. Blows my mind. 730 motherless days. 730 days with a silent mother. 730 days with the Divine Mother now.

O Divine Mother.
Satya


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