My last words to her, before she left us-

“Mum, you have lived this life beautifully, you are surrounded by all your family, filled with love here. You have loved us to your last breath, we will love to ours.

There are no complaints, none at all. We are so thankful for having such a wonderful mum like you. We will miss you every day, your quirkiness, your cooking, especially your aloo paranthas. We will never forget you.

Satguru Mata ji has come to collect you, mum, it’s time for you to go home.”

As I shared these words to my beloved, with all the family and her closest friends, I knew she would be ready to fly.

At about 7.45, mum, lying in her hospital bed, talking to me through her inner voice to me (we will come on to this later) asked me to let her go, and to go and bring the family in to say farewell.

She was breathing in what seemed to be quite an uncomfortable manner. Reassured by the nurses that this was not painful, we knew this was not going to be a happy ending.

Her voice, as clear to me as my own, was talking to me throughout the day, the 15th of December ‘23. A date etched into my heart forever, asking me to carry out her final wishes.

She asked me, at about 12pm, in this heart voice, to bring her 9 year old grandson, my baby boy, to say bye to her.

She kept telling me she wasn’t in pain, that she loved me, and that it was all going to be ok.

In the end, she wanted me to let her go.

To give her permission to leave.

7.47pm, I left the room, and as I closed the door behind me, her voice resounded in my being, asking me to bring the family in.

As I walked through the corridor, I met with the scattered family members and said, “Mum is ready to go and I feel she wants us all to come in and say by to her, as a united front (I think I meant to say family)”

I locked eyes with my teary eyed wife. As I did, she welled up more and said “If you’re really ready to let her go, then I will too” and as I broke down I just replied, “she’s ready to go.”

As we all entered into the room, my last words to her, became the last words she wanted me to say to her, and the only words she needed to relinquish the angelic body that carried her the last 65 years.

To give her my permission, her first born, my first love, permission to carry on this journey into eternal peace.

Nothing ever prepares you for this.

The trauma that ensues, the memory of her last breath, the moment of the intense tears, relief, anguish, pain, and love- all beyond comprehension.

There’s no pain like this. No emotion that comes close to a child losing his mother. It’s a raw, visceral, ache that doesn’t seem to have a real physical cause, so you can’t remove it from you. It’s root is in the love shared, that is now written in the pages of WhatsApp messages and texts.

I am both grateful, and heartbroken that I was tasked with this.

But to be able to fulfil it, only mum knows how she gave me the strength to complete it, as if she sat within me, and took control of the whole journey, in the same manner she took control of her life. With grace, beauty and the same selfless nature she served with.

Mum, you are loved beyond measure, missed beyond words. ❤️