The writer (in the background) and her beloved mum. Photo: Thiviya Tharshini
It’s been a year since the "sun" on my "horizon" set forever, and each day without my mum feels like mere survival. I miss her the way the ocean misses the moon, in countless silent ways, like echoes from the Divine.
In the quiet of the morning, before the curtains are drawn and the lamps awaken from their slumber, her absence is the first thing I feel.
Coming home, the air is still – her call to sit at the table is now a distant echo. There’s a void deep within me, filled only by the memory of her love.
At night, in the empty room we once shared, on a bed now too vast for one, I lie immersed in thoughts of her.
When I’m cooking and forget an ingredient, who do I ask? When the world turns its back on me, where do I go, Mum? Your presence was my sanctuary, my refuge in the storm.
You held me close, like the earth cradles a seed, showering me with a love I often felt unworthy of. We were always side by side, but this one journey, you took alone.
You left me with the purpose of carrying your light forward, knowing that love is eternal, and in that eternity, we are never truly apart.
