I wish there was a place in this world, a place bigger than Harrods or Harvey Nichols or Saks Fifth Avenue. A place where, things were available based on their worth, not the price attributed to it. A place where people could exchange emotions, I would have given my self in exchange of one last glimpse
If only though, if only wishes were horses, beggars like myself would fly high.
Its not what I would have or could have done, its just that every year this day comes, and though there is hardly a day when I do not think about her or when number 1 not have a question about her, perhaps the same questions repeatedly every day, I still feel like a five year old, in search of a warm embrace, looking for that precious smile, waiting to be held and be loved.
Every year, its like the same cycle. I start getting these weird dreams, and then I recall that at this time one or two or three or now four years back, this happened. It is like someone is dragging me to the electric chair, to be executed, and every year, a part of me dies within.
Its not philosophy, its not tragedy, its just the reality. That she is gone, that I was not with her. That I could not kiss her good bye. That she kept calling my name. That she kept waiting for me. Was all this actually worth it?
I remember my sister always used to ask me to go out at night on weekends, and Ammi would always tag along “How can I let you girls out, alone this late?” And when we would reach a jam lacked Hyder’s, she would say “Oh I don’t feel like having anything” And then later she’d be like “I’m kinda thirsty and will have a sip or two” And we both would fight with her that why you do not order something for your self. And I know deep in her heart, she was trying to save money that were so uselessly spending on “unhealthy, garbage stuff”- Mothers:)
When other girls talk about their mothers, I look at them with envy. When someone posts their status on Facebook to wish happy birthday to their mother, I just get numb. When I see women holding their grand children, my heart sinks. I have been trying to find her in every person I see, meet or talk to. I call every elderly woman Ammi, and yet this vacuum inside never fills. The gap just keeps increasing.
Its just like a hole, the size of California, being drilled in my heart, every day, every year.
And although her prayers for me have been answered and I have an angel right by my side, I still can’t deny that she took away a part of me with her. I am not complete any more. Can never be!
November 27th 2015
