18 Months Without My Beautiful Mum

In the aftermath my mum’s passing

the immense weight of unspoken words hang in the air

forming an ethereal dialogue that only I can hear

Ma, life has an uncanny way of teaching me the greatest importance of you, my incredible Ma, when you were abruptly taken from us 18 damn months ago, in the aftermath, I found myself grappling with a profound sense of loneliness, and a cavernous void, that has been filled not only with the pain of your absence, but also with the things left unsaid, the stories untold, the moments unshared, that I am now carry within me each and every single damn day, and the quiet dialogue I continue to have with you in the silent recesses of my forever wounded heart, regrettably, it is a damn lesson I have learned too bloody late

Ma, they say time heals all wounds, but the immeasurable ache of losing you so suddenly, remains as fresh and intense as it was 18 damn months ago, and there has been a library within me, filled with unuttered words that were meant for your ears alone, that becoming a hushed reverie, a yearning to share the mundane and the extraordinary with you, who was my confidante, my reassurance, and my mentor throughout my entire existence, when the opportunity for our daily chats evaporated with your unexpected departure, therefore, I am truly repentant for not expressing my gratitude and appreciation to you enough

Ma, the countless sacrifices you made for our family, the unwavering support you gave us, and the unconditional love you showered upon me, continue to hang in the air unstated in the way you are deserved, since there have been no bloody words spoken directly to you, no damn gestures to convey the depth of acclamation for the unbelievable impact you had on our lives, in the past 18 damn months, whilst the bloody postponed conversations, and the damn assumptions that there would always be more time, weighing heavy on my soul, and I wish I had taken so many more chances to vocalise my adulation for you

Ma, there has been a constant ache in my bleeding heart for the last 18 damn months, that comes from the realisation that the one and only person, who understood me like no other, who knew me best, who always celebrated my successes with unbridled enthusiasm, who shared in my achievements and consoled me in my failures, is now a mute observer in the echoes of memory, thus making it challenging for me to find a harbour of understanding in the absent of your guiding presence, just as I often catch myself rehearsing conversations in my mind, wondering how you would react, or what advice you might offer me

Ma, in the wake of your unanticipated passing 18 damn months ago, I have been forced to become a custodian of myriad bloody things, together with my thoughts, my emotions, and my experiences, since the simple act of turning towards you to share anything, has been a reflexive, a damn muscle memory that persists despite the bloody futility, each time I would turn around with a piece of news of my life, to that familiar space, where you once resided, almost instinctively, only to be met with the deafening sensation, the disquieting realisation and the heart-wrenching reality that you are here to receive my words no more

Ma, in the solitude of my thoughts, I have been engaging in imaginary interactions with the invisible presence of you, my darling Ma, for the last 18 damn months, as every day brings forth a new collection of words that lingering on the tip of my tongue, often, I whisper to the wind, I tell my triumphs, I confess my struggles, and I recount snippets of my day, as if you were still here to listen, but these one-sided communications, like unopened letters, only to be halted by the cruel reminder that the recipient is no longer reachable, a damn hopeless attempt to bridge the gap, and a persistent longing to share my world with you

Ma, in navigating the silence, the accumulation of unspoken words leads me to alternative outlets for expression, be it through journaling, or just quiet contemplation, it has not been a deliberate choice, but a damn consequence of the dreadful loss of you, 18 damn months ago, though the physical act of conversing to you is a damn possibility no more, I will carry your love as a torch, and I will make sure that your legacy endures through the chapters of my story, my dear Ma, you are solely missed in the moments kept to myself, until we meet again, these damn things will remain cherished secrets, held close in my heart