In the moment

Watching someone die can bring everything to a standstill. When you’re watching someone die over an extended period of time like Ma did, time stops still, days mesh together, hours merge and time becomes irrelevant. Yet there is so much activity around. Blur of people talking, crying and even laughing. There’s nowhere else and nothing else you’ve got to do or get to. Nowhere else you’d want to be. Completely there, in the moment, but not yet cognizant of the significance on the rest of your life. How could you? You’re not thinking of the rest of your life. You’re not even thinking about the last few days that have led up to that minute. Perhaps you’re thinking only about this minute holding her hand. The time to think about the leading up, what was said when, who did what - that will come back to you when you’ve realized what has occurred. When the loss is really felt. Until then it’s just a whirlwind of activity - the hospital discharge of the body, the viewing, the cremation, the rituals, the choutha.   

The irony is that while every moment during is felt so completely, there is little else you are able to feel later other than that time. You live and relive those days, the hours agonizing over decisions leading up to the end. You go back months and years and wonder what you miss about her the most. How you missed the signs. The palpable fear followed by resignation. It all will come back. But you were present when it happened. Just as present when you gave birth, you were present when the one who gave birth to you died.