It's been three years today that there's been no hugs, kisses and hearing Mama's sweet voice say "have a great day" or "welcome home." It's been three years of entering a home where I am greeted with silence and emptiness. It's a constant reminder of what used to be there. A hug waiting for me, the voices and sounds of Mama that filled our home; a small framed lady with a gentle soft voice and yet her spirit so huge that her presence was always known, felt and loved. Whether I was away for a few short hours or for an extended period of time I always felt the anticipation of knowing Mama was there waiting for me. Without a doubt she always had one question for me, "When are you coming home?"
I always called her every day no matter what part of the world I was in. When she picked up the phone and heard my voice I would feel her sense of relief and peace. "Did you eat something?" and then ask again as if she didn't know "When are you coming home?"
But now home feels different. It's space that feels empty. Her absence feels like a bottomless crater that can never be filled.
What is grief like three years later? I had slowly and gently made a few attempts at clearing her drawers and closet. I was only able to let go of a few items at a time. But this past month, with the help and support of a few family members we were able to empty, donate and gift the remaining items in her room. Only recently did I start listening to all the voice messages that were left for me this day three years ago. Only now have I been able to read the many messages of condolences that were left for me on Facebook. Thank you ALL for the outpour of support.
Everyone's grief journey is unique. There are no specific timelines. This has just been my experience.
Despite the loses what has grown and continues to grow is my love for Mama. A bond of love never dies and continues to grow even when our loved ones are in spirit. We had a nightly ritual where she gave me three kisses every night. And now before going to bed I kiss her bedroom door. It's not the same but for me is a symbolic gesture of our ritual, and of our love.
I make pancakes every Sunday morning like we used to and have found ways to celebrate, honour and nurture our incredible bond.
I really get annoyed when people say "Your mom lovED you very much" in past tense. Her love for me never died. Nor did my love for her come to an end. If there is one thing I know for sure is that despite her physical absence I feel her love for me. Always.
What I'm not sure of is what 'home' is supposed to be like now? I'm still in a constant state of curiosity and discovery. Grief leaves you with many questions like "What does life look like for me now?" And I don't have all the answers. I just know that nothing will ever take her place. But tapping into my creativity for me is like prayer and a way to connect to my true source. And that creativity will lead to inspiration. THAT is my guiding force. THAT is where my faith guides me. THAT is my pathway home.
Love you forever Mama 
Special thanks to Aliya Ladha and Farida Karmali for helping me with mom's room. I love you very much. Thank you.
