I dropped my mum off at the airport a few hours ago. As I waved goodbye to her, I felt my heart flop and sink to my knees. With every step she took, the resolve to hold back my tears grew weaker. Yet I made sure that by the last time she looked back, my face was just a blur, shielding my ugly, crying face.
As I turned around to walk back, my eyes were glued to the ground so people wouldn’t see my face. I didn’t have to worry though, since I’m quite certain no one would have even cared to spare me a second glance in the bustling departure terminal of Dubai airport. Walking back, I began to reflect on the month that was and how quickly it had gone by.
She arrived in Dubai on the 3rd of February. It had been over two years since she had last visited. The plan was to stay in Dubai for about 10 days and then head to Canada for a cousin’s wedding together.
I spend quality time with my mother and try to spend at least a month every year with her. But it is usually in Mangalore, on her own turf. This felt significantly different from that. It was also different from the last time she was here. I now had a better place, a job that was flexible, and a little four-legged creature (Brooklyn) that I was eager for her to meet.
One look at Brooklyn, and mum was already in love with him. He reciprocated the affection and ended up taking a nap on her stomach the very first day—a far cry from the dog who usually demands heaps of treats just for a cuddle!
What I remember from mum’s time here is not the outings, the brilliant food she made, or the laughs. It is the time we spent watching TV in the night. How we managed to watch seasons 3-6 of “This is Us” in a mere month is something I’ll never fully understand. But we did. As someone who was still grieving the loss of her own mother, I felt it might be somewhat cathartic for her to watch a show on family, love, and loss. But here was this lady, watching the show way past her bedtime (and definitely way past mine as well), binge-watching it like there was no tomorrow and equating everything that happened the next day to the most recent plot twist on “This is Us.”
Our journey then extended to Canada, where we met up with the rest of the family, and it was an absolute delight. As daughters, I feel as though we possess an innate sense of knowing when our mums aren’t okay and how to be there for them in a way they need us to be there. Weddings are a fun time, but they are also a reminder that life goes on, even in the absence of those closest to us.
I could just tangibly sense the moments my mum felt the loss of her mum. In a way, it was sort of heartwarming to know that my grandmum had made it to Canada long before we ever did. She had lived in the same family friend’s house we were in, walked the same stairs, sat on the same couch. Ajji’s hearty laughter had once filled the same den…
I can count the number of times things got a little overwhelming for my mum. If I was across the room, a nod of the head and a smile would work. If I was closer, it was usually a hand to the shoulder. But I felt the best way to tell her I was with her was by holding her hand. It was something I did with her mum, my grandma, a lot. It was our thing. We would quietly hold each other’s hands and run our fingers across each other’s palms. Mum’s hand felt significantly different from Ajji’s—it was bonier and had far fewer callouses.
I was fortunate to spend a few extra days with mum in Dubai once we returned from Canada. I’ve enjoyed her food (a bit too much), heard her laugh, and seen her cry. We still hold hands while crossing the streets, but this time it is me who is doing the hand-holding. At dinner yesterday, she invited all my friends to Mangalore and closed off by saying, “offer valid until stocks last.” It took me a while to understand what that meant. I was immediately taken back to how much she sounded like my grandma, who would often say something along the lines of ‘By the time XX happens, I’ll be in the ground.” It made me feel very sad.
One of my biggest regrets when it comes to my grandma is not having a chance to say bye to her before I left for the airport to come back to Dubai. For years, my last destination before going to the airport would always be my grandma’s house. Just long enough for her to give me a peck on the cheek, shed one solitary tear, and then for me to make fun of how she had reserved the remaining tears for her male grandkids. My last visit before she passed was the only time I could not see her before leaving because I was too late to the airport. And that is something that crushes me.
Standing at the airport with mum just brought a lot of these memories to the surface. Life does not guarantee anything, and perhaps that should be reason enough to cry a little more freely, hug a little longer, and hold hands more often.
Dear Ma, if you get around to reading this, I want you to know that maybe next time, I won’t wait till you are almost out of sight to shed a solitary tear. In fact, do wait up for me to watch the final season of ‘This is Us’ so we can both ugly cry together :).