Mourning a loss

I was eight years old when I lost my mother and today I am twenty-five. In these sixteen years of her absense, memories of her faded into the night that was within me. As I look back over the years, I can only acknowledge a void that was left behind in my heart, with her passing away- a void that remains irreplaceable. My memories of her are hidden deep within and buried - for the fear of the pain involved and distant- because of the years that have blurried those few moments of her existence in my life.

This weekend as I observed my eight year old nephew's interactions with his mother, I somehow began questioning the lack of depth in my memory of my mother. I donot know if I am yet ready for such an introspection as I am not sure if I can deal with the pain involved while unearthing those memoirs. All through my growing up, I have been haunted by questions about my mother and as I kept dismissing them each year, they only kept haunting me back with a greater momentum. I shared these concerns with a close friend -who is a psycology major, and she discerned that an eight year old's memory development should be clear enough to be able to recollect those occurrences at a later stage in their life.Recollections of my mother are vague, like an early morning dream....just visible enough to know that it has occured but gets hazier as you try to get into the details

As I trace back my early years, I somehow can reconstruct most of my interactions with cousins, childhood friends and relatives but I only remember a very few of these with my mother. These few interactions donot just come to the mind easily, for only over the past few years did I have the courage to revisit them. And surprisingly each of these memories is a happy one, connotating a very special bond that we shared. I remember an incident when I was diagnosed with jaundice and the day before that my mom was mad at me for not going to school, not knowing I was unwell. The next day she hugged me real tight and apologised for not realising that I was unwell. Another day I helped her in cleaning the refrigerator and I remember her telling my grandmother that one day I would grow up to be a good husband :) . As I keep writing now, memories of her keep flashing..mostly memories of her in the garden- tending to the plants or of our family waking up early on Sunday mornings to bathe our two dogs.I was once scared that these memories were lost but as I rediscover them , I am relieved and also anxious at the same time, relieved-for I now know that my heart has clinged on to her memories but only allowed them to be buried to be able to cope up with the loss at that time and anxious- because I am not aware when the pain is going to hit hard.

Over the years, I gradually forgot what it must have felt to have had a mother. I grew up looking for that unconditional love and affection in my relationships with my high-school teachers, my grandmother, my aunts and at a later stage, in my relationships with my lovers - trying to fill the void that my mother's death created. Only recently did I realise that this void can never be filled by any other relationship I chose to be in, for in losing my mother, I have lost that one person whom I could just hug and in that very second - momentarily forget all of my worries. As a child I dealt with this loss by hiding away from her memories and now I am coping with the loss, by unearthing those few memories that I still have of her- not too soon for I still have a long life ahead, and I only have a few of them to savor. I have only heard good things about her from the people who knew her well, but I find it difficult to comprehend, that an opportunity was never presented to neither me nor my mother, to discover each other as adults. It seldom escapes my mind what she would have thought about the decisions that I have made in my life, were she alive today and even though she is not with us anymore, from deep within, I still ask for her aceptance and pray for her guidance.

Last year, my grandmother sent me a tape of songs sung by my mother. The tape lies here in my front room, on the book shelf. I havent found the courage yet to open and play it, for I donot know what emotions might gush in? Perhaps one day a voice from deep within will call out to me and help me find that courage. Till then, there is her picture on the wall, taken a day before her wedding, with her eyes sparkling- for in them, there is an excitement for the future and the pain in leaving behind the past- and today, as I look at this picture, my eyes resemble her's - for in them too there is not only the pain in knowing that the past has been left behind but also the happiness in knowing that the future holds a possibility of me knowing her better.

I have just recently made peace with the void left behind after her death, I donot know how long will it take for me to make peace with her death but I do mourn her loss daily, at a unconscious level- more often when I am not thinking about her than I do, in the things I do and the way I react to circumstances and not in the tears that I have cried but in the memories that I have preserved.