Three years ago, my mother was living her last days but I didn’t know that. I had no clue. And her sudden death was and has been traumatizing..
I certainly thought I did. But little did I know that the last time I saw my mom had been the last. That..that hug at dawn on my way to the airport five months earlier had been the very last one.
Back then in the spring of 2018, my days had been filled with such despair and a constant inner urge to go home. In looking back, I see it was my deepest soul trying her hardest to speak to me. But I was too mired in the daily grind of perhaps my worst job ever and too despondent about my own personal griefs and issues to hear that voice.
Not when it was a gentle whisper and not when it was a constant drumming in my head that I whispered to myself ” I have to go home” while I worked, while I drive, before I slept, when I woke up. In retrospect, it is clear as day as all things in hindsight are.
As you can imagine, this is not too far from my mind. Every once in a while it is. I forget. But those moment are far and in between. And because of this or perhaps inspite of this, I am hopeful that some day, the moments that I forget this, stop replaying it in my mind will increase. Not always in direct proportion to the time passed I know but I am hopeful and a certain that it will happen.
Three years in. I’m not here yet. But slowly I am learning.