It was more or less anticlimactic and mostly consisted of me immersing myself in work in the first half, and indulging in some The Dodo, odd, friendship videos, in the second.
The loud notifications from Swiggy imploring me to make use of ‘Mother’s Day special!” discount woke me when I was dozing off on Sunday, May 8. It was also a wake-up call of sorts… To the fact that I no longer have a mother for whom I can plan a mother’s day bash.
It has been exactly a month since she left us for the next great adventure (sorry, “Cambridge Dictionary”, I am going to go along with Dumbledore when describing the dreaded D word). The tear ducts that were overworked that day seemed to dry up in the following weeks.
Whenever confronted with something unpleasant, my default reaction has always been to flee. In this case, too, it was no different. I sought solace through the mandatory stuff: arranging her last rites, writing an obituary, and obtaining a death certificate. But, I postponed the mourning period. Like Scarlett O’ Hara, I too, told myself that, “I will think about it tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.”
I refused to think about her absence, the fact that I would never see her again; hear her high-pitched bell-like voice chiding me for lazing about; never feel her bony arms trying to encompass me in an awkward hug.
I have tried to make peace with my loss, but it seems like I haven’t come to terms with it yet, and I doubt if I ever will. I may have chosen not to dwell on it (the coward’s way out), but it still lingers beneath my rib-cage, threatening to escape at inopportune moments like an untamed bird.
Moving On Is A Lonely Journey
Whenever I experienced period cramps, made the 10,000th goof up at the office, struggled to get up in the morning, saw friends and celebs posing with their moms, or observed brands promoting mother’s day celebrations—my grief reappeared, reminding me that she is no more.
My mother had never bothered to hide her lack of faith in my “adulting” abilities. I grew up with her lamenting that I would not survive a single day without her. Truth to be told I too have always believed I would be completely incapable of functioning without her.
I have never imagined, couldn’t even bring myself to imagine a life where she would not be around to guide me. Having dead moms was something that occurred to other unfortunate people, not me. But, the worst came to pass. Neither her endless supply of medicines nor my prayers could keep her with me.
This was the first mother’s day I spent without my mother. It was mostly uneventful.
I spent half the day catching up with some pending office work, dedicated the evening to Dodo’s “Try Not To Cry” inter-species friendship challenges (as expected, it brought out the waterworks), and stayed awake at night trying to put together how I spent the day I have dreaded for so long.
I cannot give tips on how to survive an occasion that is all about loving and showing off your mom, if you don’t have one. However, if you find yourself experiencing some of these emotions I am going to go ahead and say you are not the only one.
Tackling The Green Monster Threatening To Crawl Out
That feeling of envy when you see friends or random celebs posing with their mom or being doted by them? It’s not just you. I have waded through feelings of intense jealousy and helpless fury that all these people still have a mom to love and cheer for them.
If you are overwhelmed with the unfairness of it all, give yourself the time to be angry. Remember: it’s okay to feel jealous, to rant against your misfortune. However, it would be a tad bit more prudent to vent your fury by writing it down, rather than blurting it out.
Feeling Drained
If you have been thick as thieves with your mom, the months following her demise will be one of the lowest points of your life. You might experience a loss of enthusiasm and there may well be periods where your productivity suffers. I certainly felt drained out these last few weeks.
I struggled to invest, emotionally or intellectually, in things I care about. I have caught myself saying or doing some rather regrettable things and went through a dry spell where I couldn’t find new ideas.
If you find yourself losing your mojo, don’t get alarmed. Grief can do that to you. Take a few days off for yourself if possible.
Being Emotionally Closed Off
Introverts like me who find extended periods of socialising exhausting. The weeks followed by my mother’s death saw many friends and relatives dropping in to say their condolences.
Although I do feel grateful for the unconditional support we (my father and I) have been shown, it did get rather tiring after a point of time.
For someone who had always considered escaping the best policy, the fail proof way of coping, hearing others reminisce about my mother, her final days being described again and again in such vivid detail, was nothing short of torture.
So, here’s my advice. Take a break from well-wishers if you can’t bring yourself to socialise. Let them know that you are grateful for the support, but you’d rather not talk about your loss right now, thank you very much!
Avoiding Those Pesky Memories
This may be that time of the year when all the memories associated with your mother comes back with a vengeance. It’s as if they are ganging up on you like schoolyard bullies, when you are at your most vulnerable.
If you feel you don’t enjoy reminiscing about your mother and you’d rather work on the office project than think about her, don’t feel guilty. Some people thrive on reliving memories of the good old days.
For others like me, memories just symbolise what’s lost and can’t ever be retrieved. If you think of keeping the fond memories of your mom in the past, or rather in some cozy corner of your heart under lock and key, then by all means do just that.
Final Words
It may take me months or even years to adjust to the new normal: not having mom, my #1 well-wisher and safe space around! No matter how many years pass by, her absence will always rankle. But, I know I will also learn to live with it.
Her loss will be the albatross around my neck for the rest of my life and that’s fine…