Infinite benevolence

 Infinite benevolence      

       ......... feel much for others and little for herself                                                                            

Mother turned 90 four years ago. At 90 she could still take care of not only herself but also assist other family members.She could move about easily at home, even though her eye sight was impaired. Climbing up the step leading to her bedroom in our multi-level ancestral home with ease she happily involved in everyday domestic chores.

If there was one unique characteristic about her, it was that she did it all! : From managing the household chores to helping us and anyone around and also taking care of all her needs. She worked hard her   entire life. She could move from one task another without much thought and slip into any role seamlessly.

 As she turned 93 about eight months ago I noticed that life started to became tougher for her. Changes became more pronounced & noticeable on many fronts. Her memory became fogged intermittently. As a result she became more withdrawn. When I tried to speak louder, she would admonish me saying that she wasn’t deaf !  

She began to walk slower and then could barely walk. She stayed in bed longer. She silently fought incontinence till she couldn’t conceal it any more. She would feel terribly upset and guilty as the family supported her in fighting the challenge.

 Her food preferences narrowed to idlis, dosas & Upma.  And her all-time favourite Appalam .Soon she was totally dependent on these.

 Her hands began to lose their steadiness, & the sad part was that she no longer enjoyed her favorite pastime of neatly folding & refolding washed clothes, the occupation   that had made her feel needed as we all scampered around with our activities. She no longer stored   her clothes carefully in her shelf, which she always liked keeping perfectly organized. She became disinterested.

I tried to get the family to spend more time with her. Proximity and banter I thought were the best medicine, encouraging her to talk about the days when she was more active. “Do you remember…………..” we would ask. She would smile and respond, sometimes with trade mark sarcasm. Losing interest, she would abruptly terminate the banter.

As time went on, I revised & scaled down my expectations a few notches.  She ate less, slept more, and inquired less.

What made it most difficult in accepting the changes was that her mind remained sharp.  She could accurately recount incidents from her early days in her maternal home; stories about quirky relatives, rituals, temple and many more.

It was painful to see her trying to navigate life by herself despite failing health and family’s alertness.

 Suddenly, Chest congestion, an affliction she suffered some years back struck again. Having witnessed the courage and strength with which she fought the illness during the previous occasion we were sure that she would emerge from the current distress. But this time around as she lay in the Hospital bed for what seemed like an eternity hopes began to fade and despite the latest medical advancements and medicine, she attained peace.

 Modern medicine can delay death for a long time, but the price paid is prolonged suffering.

A very fond wish that I harbored deep within my heart lies shattered. Death forces us to recast our expectations around happiness. Things that previously brought us only joy - a family re-union, celebration and such other happy tidings, if it transpires in future will be tinged with sadness & nostalgia because Mother’s presence with us isn’t there.

I will keep reassuring myself that Mother is our guide and whatever happens or will happen is under Her benign ordination.

Every morning I still wake up thinking that she is there, sitting quietly on her bed folding & arranging her clothes. Then suddenly the truth shakes me up and I realize that it is just a fantasy gripping me still, and gloom envelops. Despite my apparent tranquility , I feel empty inside. Mother’s death was a really depressing experience I’ve managed to endure. It is  a devastating loss.

Though she has transited from this world, I now realize that she   is still teaching us about life.

Only, now we are learning in her physical absence.

It is all very well to try adopting a philosophical attitude about dying.             “ Everyone has to go, When it’s time,” . But it is easier said than done.

.Watching parents grow older is an inescapably formidable challenge and harrowing part of life.

I am still trying to figure out if that little dollop of dessert unleashed devastation of unmitigated proportions ?  The whole thing is a nightmare        & quite excruciating. And it’s a new kind of torture