Parting With My Mother: A Reflection On Loss And Grief

Every time I say the truth, the world cannot tolerate it, and I am taken to a psychiatrist. My mother's death has created a deep trauma in my mind, with no support and having to deal with it all alone. My mother was my best friend; we shared everything about our professional and personal lives. We had no secrets. Now, I have no one to talk to. I feel so alone at times.

As my LinkedIn posts tell, she did not have a natural death. And the things she said in the ICU are happening to me after coming to Bangalore. I really wish I could change the city and live in a safe and protective environment. The way we both lived. No one will understand me or protect me the way my mother did.

My mummy and I...

The bond between women is the strongest and unbreakable. I wish I might meet her in some form someday. If I were to go back in time, I wish I had called people when she shouted in the ICU, but I didn't do anything, and this guilt will always be there.

I don't feel safe in Bangalore even while commuting in buses. I hope to go to a safer place someday. I find Bangalore city so male-dominated; I have never lived in this environment before. We had a perfect life in Kanpur, with two women going out for work in the morning and after coming back discussing life over tea in the evening.

Going to Z square on Sundays, and dinners on weekends at Bikanerwala. No one can provide me with that warmth and comfort as she did. The way she prepared the morning tea with pepper, ginger, cardamom, and I took it to the office in a flask every day. Sometimes, even sitting at the back of her scooter and praising her for how well she drives. Better than an Ola bike, which I used to book while going for reporting. Our house was so big in Kanpur, and the area was also posh, but now I have to adjust to a small room where I can't find half my things.

Looking back at college time, I remember my mother and me looking for a curled blonde wig all through Kanpur because of my love for Taylor Swift. I was madly in love with blonde hair and blue eyes, it goes back to the times when my mother read Goldilocks and the three bears when I was in nursery class. We went searching for a guitar from hundreds of guitars in the guitar market in Kanpur, and I selected a red guitar from them and wished it had Taylor written on it while I was in college.

Our last trip was in 2023 to Mussoorie, where we stayed at a hotel and toured the place for seven days. Little did I realise that this would be our last trip in our entire lifetime.

I hate birthdays and cakes now. My birthday became her death day, and we parted forever. I hope she will ever forgive me for the mistakes I made as a daughter, and did nothing to save her and saw so much injustice happening to her and me. 

They thought we women were weak. But we aren't. Each woman is God and should be worshipped for all her good qualities.
Sorry, Mummy, extremely sorry.

Personal story by Komal Nadig | Views expressed by the author are their own.