23 April 2024 – The Day Her Touch Became a Memory & presence became remembrance

There are days that do not announce their weight when they begin. They move quietly, almost ordinarily, until they leave behind something that cannot be undone. 23 April was that day for me.

I remember the moment I heard it from the doctors. There was a pause in their voice, a hesitation that said more than their words. They admitted that even they had not anticipated that the palliative radiation would lead to such a decline. That uncertainty, coming from those we trust for clarity, left me shaken.

They referred her to Neyyattinkara Taluk Hospital for palliative care. On 22 April, we reached the hospital late at night. A few nurses who were on duty told us that the admission could be done the next day. There was nothing much we could do at that hour except wait.

On 23rd April, 2024, early the next morning, around 7 am, I hurried upstairs to see her. I still remember that moment clearly. She was breathing heavily, each breath labored, the sound reaching me even before I stood beside her. I stood there, helpless, watching her, not knowing what to do, not realizing that this would be the last time I would see her alive.

After a few minutes, I stepped out to get some xerox copies of the documents needed for her admission. It felt like a routine task at that moment, something small and necessary. I did not know that life was about to change in those very moments.

If I had known even a little earlier, I would have stayed with her. I would not have stepped out, not even for a moment. While I was getting the xerox copies, I received a call. They told me there was no need for any documents anymore. For a second, I did not understand what they meant. My mind refused to accept it. I was never ready to believe that she could leave so suddenly, before I could see her once more, before I could be with her in that final moment.

I ran through the road, almost without knowing where my feet were taking me, calling out, hoping, praying that nothing had happened to her. My mind kept repeating the same thought again and again, that this could not be true. But somewhere deep within, there was a silence that already knew.

It was the first hospital where her treatment had begun, where her long journey through illness had started. And it was here that she finally came to rest. She had finished her journey from where it had begun. And then came the moment that quietly defined the day.

I said goodbye without being ready. There was no perfect time for it, no moment that felt right. It happened in the middle of everything that was already slipping out of my hands. I held her hand, not wanting to let go, even when I knew I could not hold on forever. There was a silence around us, heavy and full, saying what words never could. That was when it truly settled in.

The day her touch became a memory. It is a strange and painful realization, to know that something so familiar, so constant, has suddenly moved into the past. Her presence did not leave in a dramatic way. It slowly became still, leaving behind a quiet that has stayed with me ever since.

Even now, when I think back to that day, I do not remember it in parts. I remember how it felt. Everything slowed down. Reality became impossible to avoid. And yet, in the middle of that loss, love remained. Some days change your life loudly. Others do it in silence.

23 April 2024 was silent, but it changed everything.

DJP

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