Home, Home Without Your Mother

Home. Home is where your parents are. Mine certainly was with my mother. And your heart gets misplaced especially when you are too young to fathom their absence from this cruel world.

I sit in silence and think of her. Her warm embraces and our numerous disagreements, I stare at the wall against which once my mother oiled my hair. My attempt at finding the feel of her presence around our room goes in vain. The comfort of hearing her voice is nowhere to be found.

A drop begins to form at the corner of my eye and I hurriedly wipe it. Be strong! I remind myself again for the nth time. How can I cry? Or I can but I shouldn’t but Why? I fail to come up with reasons enough so I let go of the grip over my tears.

What I have come to realise is the fact that with time, the void and the pain grows within you. And you are left with a more intense feeling of loneliness than before. All the lives around her remains same except for her. And this makes me angry and sad, both at the same time and with the similar force.

Why my parents? Why them? Why Her? Why us? thread of these questions run through my head never to be answered and I cry some more. I cry until my cheeks soak up the remains of my tears. She was my only parent. And without her, I will always be lost. Without her, this world will always seem less important.

Author Notes: Count your blessing. The very blessing of having your parents around. Blessing of having them to hug you, to guide you through your ups and down. Blessing of watching them grow old around You.

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