I was considerably young when this dreadful incident took place, a nine-year-old girl, with hopes of toys and chocolates and no clue about what the horrifying future would be like. My parents went on a long drive across the mountains when the moon rose over the horizon marking the defeat of the beautiful yet helpless sun, almost more than 2 hours away from the intoxicating comfort of our antique wooden house. ‘Why, why did they go?’ has been the only question on my mind whenever I think about the day.
The car was as fast as a bullet train and the music blared. A sudden jolt and the road changed into a void with a screeching sound…..
With my grandmother, I reached the endless, fatal road; I saw my father bruised, scarred and looking at my mother who lay motionless. Tears fought to come out of my hazel eyes, I resisted. As we reached close to the dark abyss, my grandmother got off the car cuddling me and covered my shuttered eyes, trying to block my view from the petrifying scene.
I struggled to get out of the confinements and rushed to my father, so traumatized he did not register my presence. His eyes glued at my mother. I started to walk towards my mom, each step felt like a kilometre and I hesitated to take it. I squatted near mom, she so beautifully destroyed. Her long cascading dead hair framing her face, yet streaks of blood covered it. Home is where your mother is but unfortunately, mine wasn’t there anymore. Life couldn’t be harder and tougher!
My grandmother then held onto my watery and sweaty hands. I clutched hers as tight as an anchor to a ship. My head was throbbing and my fragile heart was constantly just wishing that it was just a dream that would never come true.
‘WHY?, HOW?’, my mind questioned but mouth couldn’t utter.
The wailing of sirens brought my mind to the moment. The ambulance loaded my mother like a lifeless, emotionless doll and drove away, leaving us in the never-ending road, lonely and afraid.
On our way to the hospital, my grandmother kept consoling me; it wasn’t a cut or a bruise where the pain would stop after a while, it was a shattered heart that had lost the dearest companion forever. We reached the hospital and waited outside the I.C.U.
I sunk in my regrets as deep as an infinite sea. My mind raced back and forth, thinking about the time they left home, recollecting their joyous faces. ‘Why did I not go with them?’, a sob busted out of me erupting a whole volcano of emotions difficult for me to endure. Helpless before destiny, I wept and wept, pleading to the glimpse of her lifeless body to take me along that final time. My breaths retched…….
An hour passed. I was alive but my body did not look mine; it was not in my control. I felt very weak and dehydrated. Resting my head on my grandmother’s lap, I dozed off.
A nurse held my hands and took me near my mother. Patiently I waited for her to open her honey-coloured eyes and smile at me, to hug me and tell me that everything would be alright and there was nothing to worry. My mother opened her eyes, looked at me with compassion. “Lilly” she whispered. She had named me after her favourite flower; lilies were always a part of our tiny garden. “I love you, and you should know that even if you can’t see me, I am always there with you.” She added, “Keep smiling always and take care of your father.”
And…… she began to fade before me.
‘Mom’, I screamed and rose to my feet. The I.C.U. the door was still closed. Through the small glass, I saw the doctors trying hard to resuscitate my mother, but then, they hung their faces and dismally covered my mother’s face with a white sheet.
She left me. She moved over.
It has been 6 years now. I feel the lull each moment. Whenever I sit in the garden with my dad and look at the lilies, my eyes welled up and her last words begin to ring in my ears. Whenever I smell the fragrance of my mom’s favourite perfume, I feel the vacuum which wrings me from the inside.
I miss her and I know that wherever she is, she misses me too.
-Vibhuti agarwal