7/29/26
Familiar rooms have grown quieter. Everyday routines—once unnoticed—have become painful reminders of a presence that fille the space with comfort and meaning.
Even the smallest things stirs memories: an empty chair, a favorite cup, her folded handkerchief, titbits put away in the corner of her drawer, the photo that she saved and tucked away in a diary, a song, her favourite bhajan, and a scent that lingers a little longer than expected, a familiar tone, a gentle question, a knowing smile and the kiss on the hand.
I miss the ritual of having Tea with her every morning and evening and I long to go to her room and seek her blessing every time I leave the house and to greet her when I return.
Who will call me at night, reminding me to come home early and the daily phone calls when I was away, just checking if all was ok, or the repeated calls during my travel back home from outstation, wanting to know where I have reached and when will I reach home.
Mom taught us a lot, not only by what she did but more so by, what she didn’t do.
She never complained, come what may (Except when the car and driver was not available for her Bi-weekly Tombola outing at the Club)
She never demanded anything (when we used to ask her what she wanted for her Birthday or for Diwali, her only reply was, “I have everything, the cupboard is already overflowing, get something for the children instead)
She never overspent on luxuries, not that she was frugal but always advising prudence. For me, “A penny saved is a penny earned” will always be attributed to her because I heard it from her repeatedly.
I don’t remember a time when she did not welcome a guest or a visitor to our home, or being generous in her own way in giving gifts.
She was always knitting something for the next newborn in the family or busy with making designs on her crochet shuttle for hankies, coasters and other knickknacks.
Oh Maa, we shall miss all that and much more and wonder how will, the vacuum ever fill.
We rarely pause to truly see our mother.
We notice her busy working, speaking little, standing steady, and we assume they are unbreakable.
Today, I wish I had stopped and quietly watched her, to begin to see what was always there.
The tiredness she hid, so that we don’t worry.
The long breath she took when she thought no one was looking.
The way she rubbed her hands together, as if gathering strength from somewhere deep within.
She didn’t speak about what weighed on her, because she was raised to endure – to believe that being a woman means holding everything in, not complaining, not falling apart.
She carried it all silently – Her fears, her exhaustion, her quiet struggles, all tucked behind a simple, familiar, “I’m fine.”
Today, I understand her silence was never emptiness, it was love.
Every “Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” even when she had no answers,
was her way of holding us steady while she was quietly falling apart inside.
When our parents leave this world, life changes in a way no one can ever fully prepare us for.
Their absence creates a quiet, aching space that nothing and no one can truly replace. We do not just lose the people who raised us; we lose the feeling of being someone’s child, safely held in unconditional love.
Their arms were our first shelter, their voices our calm in moments of fear, and their guidance the compass that quietly directed our steps. With them gone, the world feels larger, colder, and far less forgiving.
Even as adults, we realize how deeply we relied on their presence, their prayers, and their belief in us. The smallest moments remind us of what is missing. Their love once grounded us and made life feel manageable. Without it, we move forward carrying both their absence and their memory, learning to live while holding grief close to our hearts.
Grief is not only the longing for someone you loved; it is the longing for a life you built together. It is missing the conversations, the shared laughter, the gentle concern in simple questions, and the reassuring knowledge that someone was always there.
Yet, I hope love does not disappear when the life ends. It shall remain woven into memories, lessons, traditions, and the countless moments that shaped who Iam.
Though the sorrow may never fully leave, neither will the bond and the cherished memory and love.
And for those fortunate enough to still have their loved ones beside them today, cherish them. Speak the words that matter. Offer forgiveness freely. Hold close the people who make life meaningful. Time is precious, and tomorrow is a gift that none of us are guaranteed.
Mothers never truly leave, they simply move to a place where they can keep watching over us, from a little further away and ensure that we Stay Blessed Forever.