How my Mother's Life slipped away in front of us

How my Mother’s Life slipped away in front of us – 11 Dec 12

Post author:Balendu
Post published:11/12/2012
Post category:Death
Post comments:0 Comments

First of all I want to thank everybody for sending their condolences, love, support and strength to us at the Ashram after our big loss of Ammaji. On social networks, per email, sms and on phone people have told us that they share our pain and sadness. Friends from all over the world, who have met her here at the Ashram and who have eaten food prepared by her hands, are shocked about the news of her death, just like us. For all of them and all of you who could not meet her but are feeling with us, I want to answer all the questions, as far as I have an answer to them. It still seems unbelievable to all of us, too.

Let me start by telling you about Sunday evening, our last evening with our mother. In the last years we had developed a small winter tradition: every Sunday evening, we would light a fire and burn coals on which my mother would then bake small breads, made by her hands. This is how day before yesterday, too, we were sitting around a fire pot together, the Ashram family, our guests and my friend Govind and his wife. Ammaji was baking the breads and passing them over to us, warm and fresh from the fire. For dessert, we had gajar ka halwa, a carrot dessert which was one of her specialties and my favourite dessert. As always, she urged us all to eat some more and we were laughing, enjoying and happy.

We went to sleep as usual and so did she. In the middle of the night, though, at about 2 o’clock, she switched on the light, which is what woke up Babbaji. He got up to see her standing, telling him that she did not feel well. He thought she had acidity or gas from dinner, so he tried to calm her down, made her sit and even lie down again. After some minutes however, she sat back up and told him to call Purnendu, whose room is the closest to theirs. He came and she told him that she was having difficulties in breathing. This concerned Purnendu and he quickly went to get me. He knocked on our door, asking me to come and of course I immediately got up. As Apra had woken up from the sudden commotion around her, Ramona started feeding her and said she would come over once the baby was done. I quickly went to Ammaji’s room where Purnendu just arrived with Yashendu, whom he had called, too.

I saw that Ammaji was sweating and breathing heavily. She was however looking at us and talking to us, telling us that she had difficulty breathing. I immediately understood that she was having a heart attack, as I had seen this happen before. As she was talking to us, and of course listening what we were saying, I did not say it out loud, afraid that this could make her afraid and could worsen her condition. We immediately took the decision to take her to the hospital though. Purnendu went to get the driver and Yashendu and I were holding her. We asked whether she had any pain but she denied.

She stopped speaking just in that moment when the car arrived in front of the door. We asked her to get up and walk with us to the car but it was not possible for her. Her teeth clenched and it seemed as though she was falling unconscious. She obviously could not get up and so we lifted her and carried her to the car.

There was no question where to go – the next hospital is only 500 meters away and we needed the closest doctor. I was holding her legs and rubbed them, trying to give her warmth as they were feeling cold. I tried to find her pulse but when I could not, I held my hand in front of her nose. I had doubts – I did not clearly feel her breath. I was not sure.

At that point we had already arrived at the hospital. We carried her into the emergency station where a doctor immediately started performing CPR, pressing her chest, trying to bring her heart to beat. I called Ramona, who was sitting in babbaji’s and ammaji’s room, waiting for news together with babbaji and naniji, the little apra asleep in her lap. I told her that there was no pulse and the doctor was trying but it did not look good. He gave Ammaji an injection, too, but it all did not help. She had already left us. Finally the doctor said ‘I am sorry, she is no more. It was a severe heart attack and her heart could not bear it.’ Our mother had died in our arms.

We put her back into the car and came back to the Ashram. It had been only about half an hour or maybe a bit more since purnendu had woken me up. We believe she was already gone while she was here at the Ashram, sitting on her bed, with us by her side. In that time we felt as though something was going out of our hands, slipping away. We actually only picked up her body and brought it to hospital. Within fifteen or twenty minutes this heart attack had taken her life.

The Ashram family started gathering around her, mourning in a wake until the night would be over. We called only a few people and the news spread on its own among those who had known her. More people arrived and after a few necessary preparations, we took her body to the Yamuna at about 10 o’clock. It was a simple cremation, just a burning of the earthly remains. It was just a farewell with the family and some friends around. Simple and with much heart, that is how Ammaji always was and how she would have liked it.

I was not able to cry until the cremation. I felt like a stone, maybe in a kind of shock. Coming back to the Ashram, an Ashram without Ammaji however opened that wall and since then we have been sitting here, talking about her and of course crying a lot. Missing the heart of our Ashram, our mother.