500 Days Without My Precious Mum

Losing my Mum was one of irreversible turning points

that change the course of my whole existence

in the wake of her profound depature, everything has switched

Ma, before that damn fateful day, I had glimpsed the words "mother loss" in literature, and I heard it spoken in hushed tones, but the true magnitude remained elusive, little did I know, that destiny would cruelly turn those damn words into a tangible, agonising reality, stealing the beating heart of our family, the anchor of our world, you, our dearest precious mum, so unexpectedly and far too damn soon, 500 motherless days ago, that altered the course of my narrative and lives without any damn warning

Ma, your woeful absence has been becoming an eraser, blurring the lines of meaning and purpose in the past 500 searing days, as what was once clear and defined, is now a damn hazy silhouette, and I find myself grappling with the question of how to infuse significance into my life that feels so profoundly reshaped by your sudden passing, since every bloody experience and accomplishment, is seen through the lens of loss, leaving me to yearn for the spectrum of emotions I once took for granted

Ma, when your physical presence was abruptly withdrawn 500 excruciating days ago, the unbearable pain of losing you was incomprehensible, a torrent of emotions threatened to drown me, and grief became a relentless force, tearing through the carefully constructed barriers I had built around myself, in those darkest moments, I reached for a pen, as it was the only form of expression that had ever truly understood me - writing, and ultimately the promise I made to my teenage self seemed trivial

Ma, it took the wrenching departure of you, who held my world together to shatter the walls of the damn vow I made to never write again, very much like the fragments of my wounded heart, in the face of such overwhelming sorrow, with my trembling hands and my mournful soul, I broke my decades-long silence, as I was locked away in a self-imposed prison, and your absence gave me the key to free myself, since the ink flowed hesitantly at first, like a rusty faucet, slowly giving way to a steady stream

Ma, in those bloody moments of my vulnerability, when you were torn away from us out of the blue, 500 torturous days ago, I declined to be just a reader but a damn author, shaping my own journey without you, who once walked beside me throughout my whole damn life, and continuing the story on my own in the absent of your wisdom and guidance, as writing became my lifeline, a means of navigating the tumultuous sea of this bloody overpowering suffering, daily struggle, and the damn silent battle

Ma, initially, grief was introduced as a uninvited intruder, as I turned the pages, echoes of treasured memories flooded my minds, words flowed like a river, carrying the tremendous weight of grief, love, and longing, each vivid recollection is a paragraph, every persevered moment becomes a section, every damn tear-stained page contributing to the richness of your remarkable presence, and the beautiful story of a unique life so bloody well lived, the act of writing has transforming my hurt into a tribute

Ma, 500 damn days on, the unimaginable ache of your devastating loss is still here, I have courageously remembering and recounting your incredible life, by going back on my word, but in that breach, I bloody realised that the one and only person, who was worth breaking my vow for is no longer here to witness it, nevertheless, writing has been an inimitable way to celebrate the life of a special lady, and to honour the memory of you, my darling mother, a testament to the love that refuses to be silenced