This year I do not get to celebrate Christmas or my mom's birthday at home but I sit here in my room ,crushed by deadlines and health indisposition(Slight asthmatic attack which resolved) listening to her favourite song.
This song talks about the creation's beauty, God's greatness and the celebration of the difference we as human beings enjoy and yet when we come before our God the creator all the differences melt into one resounding praise of gratitude to Him.
Somethings remain with me this season.
When my dad was getting sicker,one day he slipped out from bed as usual to accompany mom to the kitchen and he could not get up.As he grew older he found it difficult but never missed doing it because he knew mom would find it difficult without his help.
The last conversation I heard him make was the one I overheard while talking to my brother.His question was ,'Is mom allright?'
I did not know that he was not all there then.
The entire month I was there ,mom would pick out things from different places or ask us about plants dad would have preserved and planted ,only known to mom.Each time she would do that she would break down a little bit.We her grown up children would just suffer with her,helpless.
Once dad passed we had a conference call for the entire family and we were so glad to see each other ,when mom came on she wept...
The times I actually heard them raise their voices in my growing up years were very rare and always it had to do with my mom's garden.
For mom her garden is a haven of memories of different people living and dead who have gifted her with plants at different seasons of her life.
We had a well manicured lawn with a garden in front of our house but the lawn was just below the road.
The workers would bring truckloads of firewood or wood and throw it onto the lawn often crushing mom's flowers.One such time her very rare orchid was in tatters and she was not impressed.
It was a monologue then with mom doing all the talking and dad apologising profusely.For us kids we were not used to this and were very upset I remember.As dad grew older he became more careful about mom's flowers.
On one such visit to Hyderabad where my sister after clearing the UPSC had to go for counselling he picked up what looks like orange carnation plant for mom.It stayed as a creeper in one corner of the garden,but this year it bloomed beautifully.My mom cut those flowers carefully for the wreath for dad.
Just keeping little reminders.
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