My Auntie

Dearest Auntie,

How are you, Auntie?

I think a lot about how much women had to, and still must, make sacrifices in their lives once they pass the threshold of their childhood and the years of freedom and independence. I haven’t known you long, and yet you have such an important place in my heart. I don’t know a lot about your past, nor is that my business, but from the conversations we had, I knew you too represented those powerful women who’d given up too much for the people they love. I can’t thank you enough for opening to me, for welcoming me into your life with open arms, and with so much love. I insisted on calling you Auntie, mostly because as Indians we’re raised to use titles for people who’re older than us, but I always took you as a mother.

I want you to always know how grateful I am for you because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been blessed with Jennifer, the greatest blessing of my life. You always mentioned how lucky Jenny is to have me in her life, but it’s other way round. I want to share good news with you: I published another book and what’s astonishing about the book is that it is a book of poems (and let me tell you, I am awful when it comes to writing poems)! I do always feared trying my hand in poetry but your daughter never once made me feel like I wouldn’t be able to write poetry and so I tried and today, I am able to hold my own book of poems. What I do regret is that I didn’t give the main poem of the book to Jenny or to you to read for my first poem is dedicated to you and my mom and all the amazing mothers out there who puts their loved ones before their own selves. I wish you had read my poem to you, but I know wherever you are, if I start reading it out loud (with my awful voice mixed with my weird accent), you’ll definitely hear it!

I didn’t know how to react when I first heard the news of you getting sick. The numbness that flows through my veins (instead of blood) made it difficult to process and respond correctly to the news. All I wanted was to hop on a plane and be right next to you and your daughter, helping you both out. I am no doctor, nor am I a nurse, but I can promise you that I would’ve bored you plenty just by never leaving your side. As you know, your daughter and my relationship are that of long distance one. And all I truly wanted was to be there for and with her and you while you both went through such a tough time in your lives. But your daughter held her own in the most extraordinary way possible and I can’t be prouder of her as I am sure you are too.

The dedication and love with which she took care of you, all alone might I add, is commendable. I’m not there to visit you every day and bore you even more with my nonsense, but I would love to write letters to you for this is the only way I can talk to you now and express my feelings to you. Also, please don’t hate me for checking in on you frequently for I lost a mother too when you bid adieu to this world. I can’t fathom that I would no longer open my mail and won’t receive any messages from you. Even though we only talked through mail, you became such a special person in my life. Your humour, your kindness and your love for elephants never failed to bring a smile on my face. I see where Jenny gets all her great qualities.

I’m so sorry that you had to go through such pain. You didn’t deserve to suffer but you fought so much, right until the end and I bow down to you for being so strong and such a warrior. You may not have won the war that was raging inside your body, but you certainly won my heart, along with everyone’s who adored and respected you. I can’t express in words how much your daughter loves you and how much she misses you. A big part of her is gone, but a mother (especially someone as awesome as you) can never truly be gone for a mother’s heart will always beat in their children’s.

I see how much sadness and pain your absence has caused to your daughter. I know she’s struggling and yet just like you, she’s fighting to keep going and to wake up and start another day with a hole in her heart, and a gut-wrenching pain. But I want to assure you that your daughter will be okay because I know you’ll never truly leave her. You’ll always come to visit her in some form or way and I hope she can find peace and happiness in that.

I know what she’s going through, only she herself can battle with it and grief in her own way. But I want to promise you Auntie, no matter what, I’ll always be there for her trying to protect her (even though her strong ass doesn’t need it!) and be a person she can come to when her heart feels full and her soul needs a hug or a shoulder to cry on.

I miss you Auntie so much and I hope within the time we have known each other, I made you feel how much you meant to me and how much I love you.

Your niece,

Mrigakhi.