“She passed away”, said the voice over the phone. I knew who, without any mention of names or titles. I agreed and disagreed but let my agreement show with “I see” and buried my disagreement “She’s in me and in you, she passed yet she hasn’t” within the deepest caves of my being.
I wait for the heavy silence to make a noise…Nothing, absolutely nothing broke the silence, except for the lines click, breaking the connection.
Somewhere I hear the echo "This moment will have passed too, in a moment or two, Just as she did pass away, within my life’s span, this day"
So many others have passed too…without an acknowledgement of their passing. In the days of childhood was She; She, in my youth; She, in my memories; She, in my experiences; She, within the days of impulsivity; She, the nights of yearning; She, my dream star; She, my fickle desire, She, my obsessive ambition, all, now past. I count the ones who left without a whisper, yet the biggest noise was apparent in the way I passed away, in each moment, from what I was, to what I am only to become what I was. The seemingly unimportant, mundane times, that came in without fanfare and left without a farewell, or funeral, or wreaths or people in procession or tears of loss, marking the moments of my life. Yet, it was Her passing that brought these thoughts.
With each passing, I unconsciously record my history…I think it should be her-story. The things that shaped me are in those passing. What I am, became etched, like invisible tattoos, from those passing through, passed by and will pass by. I look back at how far I have come, how many I have lost, how many I left behind, digging into the records, only to realize, the far, was near, the lost, are found and the left, are with me. I understand, I cannot live from my history, I can only move forward, consciously making new pathways. I can only imagine a future and fervently wish its manifesting. I can only be in this Moment, and Know it will Pass. What I see, touch, taste, smell and feel become important, only because I know it will Pass and I can only hold on so long. And so, I feel grateful, for memories…and work at keeping them true.
17 comments:
Tremendous story Rashmi...
That is a gorgeous piece of writing.
Thank you Jack and Mlg49 :)
Oh wow Rashmi you did the theme proud here.
Creative Challenge ~ The Days Of ~~~~
Perhaps it is just me....I feel some heavy emotion in this write. Deeply expressed.....eloquent !
Creative Challenge #151~ " Brightly Burns the Flame of Life"
Most welcome Rashmi, when you write you write!
Thank you Milli...sometimes the muse peeps in :P.
Ah Linda, you are a sensitive one...This was partly about my Mother's passing.
This is truly heartfelt, I can tell. It brings to mind the words "The son is father of the man."
Very touching. SHE left an indelible mark in every breath of your life.SHE is remembered in every moment. SHE is beyond words. Pranam.
Deep and interesting, a tribute
it is quite evident your mother and you had/have a special bond, she did a very fine job raising the Rashmi I know...excellent post!
*hugs*
Ahhh, Mothers....It is interesting how, at a certain point , we give birth to our Mothers...we see them for the first time...only in increments of memories..they grow within us...and all around us... The pregnant phases of being with them, within us, .. then surrounded by us surrounding them.
It's an amazing construct the bond of mothers and daughters and when one leaves the other feels undone..unfinished.. until the memories make fold after fold and we again become one..and gratitude is enmeshed with memory.
I surely do enjoy the Rainbow, did so then, do so now ;). Thank you Virginia
Pranam Maddy..Thank you :).
Thank You Danette...not just for the comments but for hosting this challenge too...The phrases lends itself to things I rarely say out loud.
So true Jackie... I knew only the mother until I was in my teens and I held her in awe, love and fear...I began to know the Woman when I was into my 20's and 30's and held resentment, anger and grudging respect and now I look and realize, she held the story of women from way back when and am forced to acknowledge strength and bow in gratitude...it is amazing to see the transitioning.
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