Break, Break, Break

By Javeria Ahmed

I taught Tennyson’s Break, Break, Break for nearly three years to my students but never fully comprehended the poet’s feelings until I received the dreadful news of my mother’s passing away. It was so sudden and shocking and I have still not come to terms with this new reality, this void that I feel with every breath I take, this emptiness that has engulfed everything around me.

Grief has different stages and it affects us in various ways, there is denial in the beginning and when the realisation sets in, there is also a bit of indifference and anger. It is ironic that such a huge loss can cause apathy rather than empathy, but this is what I have been feeling lately. I have come across people with far worse tribulations but for me , at this moment, my loss is the only thing that matters. I have lost loved ones before but never have I experienced being heartbroken, the pain is so tangible and real that I experience it with every fibre of my being. Like almost all people who’ve lost their parents, I have come up with coping mechanisms but deep down I know, they won’t work in the long run and I’ll have to devise new ways to deal with my loss.

My mother was larger than life and too good to be true, I believe that mould doesn’t exist anymore. She was loving yet rational, caring yet straightforward, generous yet wise, confident yet modest. I can go on and on about what she was but I’ll always remain at a loss to fully describe her as a person. A wise colleague rightly said that language allows us to communicate yet sometimes seems inadequate to fully convey what we intend to say. All the words and adjectives in the world, combined together won’t be able to do justice when it comes to describing my Ami.

Almost all of my childhood memories have one thing in common and that is , my mother. She was attentive and doting, took care of my needs yet was fully aware of the thin line between pampering and spoiling. I was the youngest child hence ended up taking more liberty compared to my siblings. However, ami was a disciplinarian so there were certain rules that I’ve followed all along. Her love for her children was her strength and she never let it become a weakness. Her moral compass worked perfectly so never allowed anything or anyone to become more significant than the principles she lived by.

Ami was devoted to every single thing she did so it is no wonder that she took her duties as a mother very seriously. From making my siblings and I study at home after school to giving us healthy snacks, taking care of our emotional and mental wellbeing, she did everything with precision and finesse. Ami never watched television during our study hours ,fearing it’d disrupt our academic pursuits. She worked all her life as an educationist but never neglected her domestic duties. Being a perfectionist, she handled both jobs with utmost grace, fulfilled professional duties to the fullest and was at our beck and all at all times. She was truly a Wonder Woman. I will never know how she did all of this and so much more.

Ami’s sense of responsibility and compassion wasn’t just for her nuclear family and work, she cared for members of extended family with the same love and devotion. It was an inherent quality she possessed, going out of her way to help relatives, friends and acquaintances in every possible way.

Ami’s co- workers and colleagues say there was no one like her, her friends are of similar view and as a child, I can say without any shadow of a doubt that she was the best mother anyone could have had.

To the outside world, ami had everything, a loving husband, well- settled kids, steady job and a home but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have problems. She had her own set of trials but she faced them with faith and utmost dignity. Never once did she fall prey to self- pity or tell people what she endured most of her life.

My father passed away unexpectedly and we were grief stricken yet it was most difficult for ami as she had lost a husband and a partner, who loved her like no man has ever loved a woman. Ami could have easily played the victim card but she rose to the occasion and came out even stronger than before ,for the sake of her children. Like a bird protecting her unhatched eggs, Ami became our shield, protecting her grown up children from the wrath of the world. We should have been the ones to look after her but it was always the other way around. Never in all these years ,she made us feel that our father isn’t around. From handling all our worldly problems, to fixing our emotional woes, she did everything with strength, love and care.

I was fortunate enough to spend all my time with her before I got married and even afterwards ,had the opportunity to visit her occasionally. Ami used to make such a big deal when I went to meet her in Lahore; from cooking my favourite meal to calling after every few minutes to know when I would reach home, she made me feel like a princess returning to her kingdom. I felt so special and she seemed just as excited as I was to see her. Even as an adult, I wanted her time and attention and she made sure that she had no other plans during the days of my visit.

We became closer , more like friends and companions as I grew up and shared everything. From life changing decisions to career advice, asking for recipes to herbal remedies, Ami was my go to person. Even when I moved to another country, we spoke on the phone every single day. My whole routine was set in a way where I had set aside time just to talk to my mom. Those phone calls may seem like more important for Ami than for me but in reality, I needed to hear her voice to feel that my day was complete. Her suggestions and words of encouragement empowered me ,and I felt I’ll be able to cross all hurdles. Her prayers were my support system and I always felt at peace, knowing my mother was praying for me. From something as insignificant as driving on a highway to taking career defining tests, she prayed relentlessly and it gave me a sense of calm.

With her unexpected demise, that balance and equilibrium isn’t there anymore. I feel lost and so alone. She could understand what I felt without me having to tell her. Our bond was so strong that we never needed words to communicate, she knew intrinsically.

Ami was my whole world, my North Star and I feel utterly lost without her. I believe there is a cosmic imbalance now which will never be restored. While my faith prompts me to come to terms with the will of our Maker, I have no clue how I’ll mend my broken heart. I do try to find solace in the fact that she has reunited with my father, they were meant to be together yet I feel lonely without them. My mother’s love was my guiding force and I don’t know how one can live without that. Her presence had a calming effect and her prayers kept me safe and sound. This feeling of separation brings with it a lifelong sense of loss and pain.

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! (Tennyson, 1842)

Khuda Hafiz my dearest Ami….till we meet again.

By Javeria Ahmed