Mother, the Light I Lost

She didn’t knock when entering hearts. She didn’t wait for anyone’s praise. She didn’t cry when she was hurting. She simply smiled, and kept going. That was what made her a mother. She wasn’t someone you met. She was someone you felt. Like sunlight behind curtains. Like warmth on winter fingers. Like prayer in a quiet night. And then She vanished. Not with a scream. Not with noise. Not with goodbye. But quietly. Like a breeze that forgets to return. Like a whisper that stays inside. Like breath you forgot to exhale. The house changed. Not just in sound. But in spirit. The stove is a stranger now. The chair still faces the wall. The clock ticks like it’s crying. No scent is sacred like the one left on her scarf. No hum haunts like hers behind closed doors. No silence screams like the one she left behind. Time moves. But hearts don’t. Time forgets. But we can’t. Because she wasn’t just ours. She was the home. The peace. The sky above every tear. Her grave is not cold stone. It is the place where love lies but never dies. This isn’t one story. It is the scream of every soul who lost their first home. Their first prayer. Their first light. She didn’t teach how to live without her. Because she never planned to go. Even now She stays. In teacups. In folded sheets. In lullabies no one dares sing. She is gone. But she is not. She is breath in every "I miss you." She is the silence that still listens. When a mother dies, the world continues. But something sacred ends. And what remains Is sorrow that never learns to speak.

If your mother still breathes, still speaks, still waits for you Don’t let days pass in silence. Don’t let pride replace presence. Hold her hand without a reason. Listen even when the stories repeat. Answer her calls not later, now. Hug her like she’s made of time because she is, and one day you’ll run out. Don’t just love her. Show it. Because the ones who only love in memories would give anything for one more moment with the woman they once called “Amma,” “Mom,” “Maa,” “Mother.”