As the tightening in my upper back spread through to my neck, then hands and finally my thighs, I knew I couldn’t hold up much longer.

One week and two days of pretense after her burial had finally come to an end had elapsed into an honest and deep release. As I cried out all the pain and anger that held me hostage for the last few days, I decided against modesty. So I let them all out, the loud wails, the intermittent hiccups and coughs that come with that kind of rush. Gradually, within those four sky blue walls, I felt this load of depression that I’d towed about for days, fizzle out in bits and pieces. Relief hugged me slowly, and caressed me with the gentle touch of a nursing mother and soon the taunting grip of grief on my chest lessened, I decided to breathe gentler.

Deliberately. Quietly.

I walked towards the mirror and considered the swollen reddened face that returned my weary gaze.

“It will be alright”, she whispered.

Then I picked up my bag and left the restroom, homebound.

Outside, lightening flashed and the thunder roared back in response. Then along came the tiny droplets, falling from heaven every 30 seconds or less, but I walked on.

Soon, they came in drizzles and small wet patches formed on the blouse I wore. What if a warm rain shower, natural and refreshing, poured today? I smiled at the thought of it. But like swift cold needles, the torrents lashed out at me, and my mother’s image was suspended in my immediate scope. I missed her, but held myself from breaking down a second time. As she faded out, I decided to make peace, and so, bade this loved one goodbye. Finally.

“The sun would shine again”, I promised myself.

And that day, as the skies cleared, it did.  


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