An excerpt from my mother’s diary

Widow.
The term seems as unfamiliar to me as the stranger across the street who smiled at me today.
The word was never a part of my dictionary, because I KNEW that death could never touch you.
You were invincible.
We didn't see eye to eye on most things in our lives, but we were tied together
by fate.
Fate and love chose you for me.
And I was content with that choice.
Twenty nine years I spent with a man who was as different from me as the sky from the earth.
The marriage was not a bed of roses, sure.
But my sindoor was my pride.
I would ask for it whenever I went to any temple.
It was the ultimate blessing for me. It was a mark of the love I had for you.
And then, my pride got taken away from me.
You left.
All of a sudden.
Leaving me all alone in this big, scary world.
The day you died, they asked me to put a garland around your neck. It reminded me of our
marriage day.
Ironic, I know.

I see our daughter every day and get reminded of you.
She is trying very hard.
It pains my heart to see her go through this pain.
I'm hurting too. I feel like I can't do this without you.
Everyone looks at me with the look you would give to a dog whose leg has been run over by an
overspeeding car.
I'm spoken about in whispers and sideway glances.
I fill out forms in which I mention myself as a WIDOW.
The word itself stings. It feels like someone is poking a freshly sharpened pencil right into the
centre of my chest.

I really want to see you, hold you and say things that I never got a chance to say.
For now, I have to make do with this tattered journal, in which I used to write poems about us.
Will I meet you again some day? I hope so.
We still have a few fights we need to complete, and a few silences we need to share.