Celebrating Loss
A daughter’s story of coping with her mother’s passing away
How to celebrate your existence when the reason you came into existence is not there? Yes, my first birthday since mom chose to leave physically. Also my 40th revolution around the sun, so yes milestone.
First things first, the pain of losing a parent can only be understood by someone who has lost one. This is not to say that those who haven’t aren’t empathetic or sympathetic enough, it is just what it is.
Back to my 40th, yes it’s a difficult day, so I decided to recounting all that I am because of her- My Mother.
Blur in the Crowd
How some people instantly stand out in a group with a snake crawling up the neck or a butterfly peeking from the shoulder or a ring of fire on the forearm, I mean all those tattoos. Yes, it’s common to have tattoos yet the majority still don’t have and those who have can’t help but flaunt’ em and that becomes a very noticeable part of physical appearance.
I am (happily) without any tattoos and body piercings (besides the regular Indian subcontinent mandate) thanks to my mom. Nopes, not appealing anymore, if anything, an eyesore(sorry folks who have). And with wrinkles and all, who knows what it may have become Yes, it was all a rage, all a craze and it still is. But, nopes, I love my clean skin (not to be mistaken with glass or metallic skin whatever the clickbait is) at 40. While it was an outright no (coated in a disappointed look that I would ask for something like this) from mom, my dad was more tactful in suggesting to get a temporary tattoo and see how I feel about it. I can’t seem to remember what I wanted to get inked, I vaguely remember names of my sisters and mom and dad (inspired by Angelina Jolie’s geographical coordinates tattoo of her multi-racial clan), the other option was the buddhist mantra Nam Myoho Renge Kyo that I have been now chanting for more than a decade(more here). However, it didn’t come to a serious shortlist of possible tattoos.
Yes, there was plenty of drama back in the day ( can't believe I am already using this phrase). Teenage was the worst, I was the first in the family to get my brows done, start using nail paint or get my arms waxed but the last one in class.
The proposal to get some extra ear piercings was also met with similar disdain citing that hippies (banjaare as the word goes in Hindi) go for that stuff, not the intellectual office types. Point taken. Thinking back, I realise all these stemmed from my desire to add some temporary drama and distraction in the life of an otherwise mundane lonely younger me.
However, the physical nuances apart, I am also quite aware of what my mom ingrained me at a more subconscious level. So much so that sometimes I end up saying the exact same words to my kids of what I heard while I was their age and it makes me go silent after that.
The Crazy Cleaning Mom
The other thing to which I caught up to late, the incessant need to tidy up the house(cabinets, toys, books, closets- this is a black hole).
So I just hustle bustle around the house, be it sunday morning or national day holiday, not that the house is still any tidier. Yes, with kids it’s understandable. However, I am unable to stand the mess now, and this a huge turnaround for a person like me who could lived in home thinking it’s a hotel( her words, not mine). I am myself surprised by this switch, maybe it’s a phase I tell myself. Point is I relate better than ever to my mom’s incessant need to ‘arrange’ the house.
My evolution as a Reader
Despite being a language teacher, our mom wasn't a big on reading literature. The word was read something from where you can gain knowledge, that was her philosophy. We read fiction nonetheless, rather devoured it. Whatever was age appropriate and popular — Jane Austen, Bronte sisters, Paulo Coelho, Khaled Hossenis and the likes and some occasional historical non-fiction (basically whatever topped the bestseller genre).
And then I stopped reading. I picked up books (the hoarder) only to not read beyond few pages and that too I might be stretching. I blamed myself, secretly despise others who devoured books, felt the FOMO from occasional book discussions. I stopped buying books. Only to discover I have a whole world of non-fiction in front of me ranging from yoga to diet to skin care to parenting self help in front of me that I can’t wait to read (more on my reading journey here). This self-discovery took time and with it came a sense of self-love and assurance that is so priceless.
Mom raised no Quitters
Mom did not give up, not in the face of societal glare of not having a son, rather raising 3 daughters. Not in the face of raising 3 children in a nuclear set up, not with not having cleared thru government job exams, not with multiple eye surgeries of my dad, not when times were tough money wise, not when support from close ones was missing, not when life gave lemons, not when trusted ones changed overnight, not when Cancer struck. She persevered. Without complaints, grudges, self-pity or turning bitter. Her choices defined her, the company she kept, the people she let go.
I did not realise I was so resilient till very late, I did not give myself enough credit for it. I didn't realise how persistent I was till I realised I haven’t quit or given up on things for years, how I have moved on from set-backs, how I have cried on failures yet gotten up to give try again.
SO yes, thank you mom. It’s ingrained in the DNA to not settle for less, to not give up, to keep going, to not give into negativity. Rather to be creative, to seek constant new learnings, to keep alive the urge to explore.
I can choose to mourn her death or choose to celebrate her life (for those of you grieving your mom, this helped me), I would definitely like to celebrate her life but it is difficult to bring joy form within sometimes when I miss her so much. I just choose to be grateful for all that I am and will be because of her. I am grateful I was born to her of all the people.
