Blood tied yarn

 Someday, Maybe? 

The story of a Mother And a Daughter. 

She had finally left behind the frail body that had held her captive, the pain of her failing organs, the endless hospital hours, and the weight of a lifetime of worldly suffering. And now, she was running again — light as a feather, carefree as a little child, with a smile that pain could no longer take away. There was a beautiful freedom in her steps, a peace in her eyes, as though life had finally returned to her in its purest form. Every now and then, she would turn back and look at her daughter, who stood behind her, shattered by grief, her tears flowing relentlessly, her heart struggling to accept a world without her mother. The old woman would gently smile at her, with all the tenderness only a mother could hold, as if whispering, “My child, don’t cry for me. I am no longer hurting. I am free now. My body may have grown tired but my spirit is whole again. I am somewhere beautiful and peaceful where nothing hurts. So let me go with a smile just as I am smiling at you right now. I am alright my love. I am finally alright!”

The daughter now sits before the newspaper column, trying to find the right words to bid farewell to the woman who has been her home, her strength, and her safest place in the world. She cries inconsolably and searches for a beginning, but where does one begin when a lifetime of love, laughter, little disagreements, whispered conversations, comforting silences, and countless unspoken sacrifices must be condensed into a few printed lines? She yearns to hear her mother’s familiar voice one last time. She replays the fondest memory of her mother, from some years ago where she is  all decked up for an event, the smell of her perfume still stuck in her head, the colour of her lip shade just the right amount of red and her slender fingers caressing her innocent daughter’s face while she tightly embraces her mother. 

The daughter snaps herself back to reality trying to answer a whirlwind of questions; How does anyone cope with grief? When does it end? Where do broken hearts go? 

The daughter lets a sigh escape from her choked throat. She looks around, her eyes welling up and declares, “Your absence by far is the heaviest weight I have to carry.”

 The daughter falls asleep after two excruciating and overwhelming days. She is transcended to a beautiful valley of flowers, where the air is pleasant and the light never fades, her father and mother wait with the kind of smiles that have been saved for the moment they see their daughter again. And when she finally arrives, she is no longer the grown woman who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. She is a little baby again, innocent, carefree, and untouched by sorrow. She runs into their open arms, and her father scoops her up while her mother gathers her close, kissing her cheeks and holding her as though she has never been away. 

The daughter wakes up rejuvenated with the hope that her dream would be her eternal reality. She gulps down her mother’s favourite Masala tea, places the cup on the other end of the teak table and promises to continue the tradition every morning like they had been doing for the past ten years. The daughter walks through the empty streets with a little bounce in her stride, carrying a lightness that seemed to come from somewhere deep within her soul. 

Even in that ordinary moment she felt that heaven could be a place where time had no meaning, love knew no goodbyes and she would get to experience all that when the time is right. Someday, maybe?