35 Months On: Keeping Mum’s Presence

Alive in Everyday Routines 

Mum, we live a dual reality now, one where we are fully aware of your absence

but still choosing to live as though you are still a part of our daily life

Ma, 35 months of sunrises and sunsets, birthdays and anniversaries, seasons turning over like pages in a book I barely remember reading, 35 months without your voice in the room, your footsteps on the floor, your laughter rising up from the kitchen, and yet, in all the days that have passed, something inside our home, and inside us, has not changed at all, even when calendars flipped, seasons shifted, people continued with their lives, but here, in our little corner of the world, in the strangely comforting rhythms of our house, something stays sacred, something remains, something still belongs to you, because even in your physical absence, you are still here, you are still part of our home 

Ma, it has been 35 months since you unexpectedly left this earth, we still live our lives as if you were here, because in so many ways, you are, of course, your chair is still empty, your smile no longer fills the room, or your hands no longer reach out to us, the way you always did, but grief has not erased you, it has simply changed the way you exist in our world, you are in the routines of our days, in the unspoken rules of this house, in the habits we refuse to let go of, in the way we move with you, carrying you with us in actions so familiar, it feels like breathing, sometimes, it is muscle memory, other times, it is deliberate, it is our way of preserving the normalcy of the life, you helped us create 

Ma, grief is often described as learning to live without someone, but I do not think it is quite true, at least not for us, for 35 months, we have learned, instead, to live with your absence, to honour you in the small, consistent ways, since you were never just part of our past, you are still part of our present, not just in photos or anniversaries, but in how we live, we have made space for you, in the living heartbeat of our home, in the rituals we repeat, not out of denial, but out of instinct, out of love, each routine helps bridging the distance between you and our memory of you, as though you are still with us, you are still in the rooms, listening, laughing, and sharing in the joys and sorrows of our days

Ma, every day of the past 35 months, we still say good morning to you, when the sun rises, and good night when the sky darkens, just as we always did, it does not matter you are not here in the room, the words came out naturally, carried by the unshakable belief, somehow you hear those greetings, maybe you do, maybe you are smiling at our stubborn refusal, to let go of these connections, as it is not something we planned to keep doing, we just never stopped, because love is still speaking, even when it goes unanswered, we do not pretend you are still here, but rather acknowledging that your presence, though invisible, still shape our lives, and in so many ways, we are still living with you

Ma, 35 months on, we still open and close your bedroom door at the same hours, as if you still rest inside, and maybe, in a way we cannot see, you do, or maybe we are afraid that if we stop, the room will become just another space, no longer yours, we still open and close your shutters every day, letting the light in for you at dawn, shutting out the night, when the stars appear, it was once your ritual, and now we do it for you, as if you might walk into the room any moment, relish the gesture, we still turn on your lights at dusk, and turn off when the house goes to sleep, maybe these acts, ordinary, repetitive, but full of meaning, deeply intentional, keeping a part of you anchored here with us

Ma, we still talk to you, out loud, in our heads, in the little pauses where your voice used to be, these chats may be one sided now but just as real, whether it is a passing comment, or telling you about our days, we speak as if you never left, as your absence has not silenced our conversations, but, it has only deepened them, we still crack jokes, the same silly ones you used to roll your eyes at, we even bicker with you playfully, sometimes followed by that half-second of silence where your laughter should be, we still laugh with you, from the way we recall your teasing, your cheeky comebacks, your sideways glances, in those moments, you do not feel far away, but right beside us, laughing too

Ma, these 35 months have been hard, full of longing and aching moments, but grief, for us, is not just emotion, it is action, so it feels natural for us to continue keeping the rituals alive, preserving the invisible boundary between absence and presence, these habits may seem pointless to the outside world, but it is everything to us, we do these things not because we expect you to come back to us again, though our hearts ache with that impossible wish but because you made our house a home with your routines, now we honour you by not letting your passing wash it all away, and here, in the rhythm of our everyday life, you are still part of this house, you still belong here, and you are still home