I visited her on Saturday. I was saddened by what I saw. A person whom in my mind had a towering presence was reduced to a bag of bones and skin. All this change in a little over a year. I stood beside her bed piteously calling her. Something must have stirred in her subconscious for she opened her eyes. Two hours later, I understood she knew I was there. Her granddaughter. One whom most resembled the son she lost. I held her hand and stroked her now bald head. I hoped she felt the affection and love. Saathi sat by her side and recited a hymn. There was silence but it was peaceful. She knew the unspoken fear and the sadness. As I left that night I held her hand again and said “Poitu varen.” No answers. A few minutes later, we managed a “Poitu va ma” from her.
Today morning I heard from my mom that she passed away. I pray for her peace. For her deliverance. In some quirky way I am glad she is free of suffering. I will always remember her in my own way as the the paati who gave me my appa.