He Lives in My Memories

I lost my son to cancer two years ago, and it has been the most difficult moment of my life. He battled with lung cancer for some time before he died, and caring for him really truncated my mental health. I refused to employ a nurse to help with taking care of him. I did everything myself up until his last days. I just couldn't leave my son, so when the thought of quitting my job came, I didn't even bother to rationalize it. I sent my resignation letter and stayed with my son, hoping he'd get better.

The rest of my family spent his last days saying their goodbyes, but I refused to give up on him, I kept researching on treatments and drugs, praying and looking for a way out. I just couldn't let him go. So, as you can guess, I was devastated when he died. It felt like I was stuck in a very dark tunnel. I didn't attend his funeral because I couldn't stand to watch them lower the body of my beloved son into the ground. So, I started drinking to help take the pain away. I was depressed and didn't know if I wanted to feel better. I kept hearing the words "move on," but I didn't know how to. To be sincere, I was a mess.

A few months after my son's burial, my husband found a letter in my son's room. The letter was addressed to me by my son. In the letter, he thanked me for being a great mother to him and urged me to move on. He described me as an angel with cloaked wings who spreads joy wherever she goes. His letter made me realize I didn't really lose him, that he is alive in my memories and in every corner of the room. The next day, I registered for therapy. Every time I feel grief creeping in, I read the letter and reminisce on the good times we had.

Neera Gupta

Mumbai, India