Last farewell

This morning I attended the funeral of a grand aunt - my mother's aunt - who breathed her last yesterday evening. The last time I visited her was about two months ago. She had become hard of hearing, her speech incoherent, and her body reduced to skin and bones. Not really surprising for one who was past 90. Over the last few years, she had become invalided and needed help with practically everything. But as I clasped her frail hands in mine, she gazed into my eyes and I could sense that she barely recognised me. Not that she was at fault. Her mental faculties were still sound - in the sense that she showed no sign of senility. But I did not visit her enough over the years to expect her to recognise me at the first instance. She visited us often when I was growing up, and was an important member of the 'senior circle' on my mother's side who would always be included in important family occasions like weddings and kenduri. Naturally, as she and I got older, I saw less and less of her. Still, I remember her dearly as one of those who was always nice to me. Of all my mother's aunts and uncles, she was the last to go. I must remind my children that they must visit aunts, uncles, cousins and other relatives whenever they can, and not limit the visits to festive occasions only. The bond must be kept and kindled, and especially so when someone has fallen ill. As I looked around at all the relatives from near and far who took time to bid her a last farewell, I'm sure one thought was on everybody's mind.

What is to become of the son she left behind? You see, this is a special child, who, as an aftermath of a brain surgery when he was very young, is left severely handicapped and hapless. With all limbs contorted, he moves by means of a wheelchair, and 'speaks' in grunts and groans, understood only by his mother. She had devoted the last fifty years of her life taking care of him as only a mother would. While mother and son had not been for want of anything material, her constant worry had been that she would die leaving him behind. She did. Amidst all the funeral preparations, he sat quietly in his wheelchair with tears streaming down his cheeks endlessly. It was heart-wrenching to say the least. In spite of it all, even he understands death, and the loss of a loved one. In his mind, he is probably pondering his fate too.

Al-fatihah.