She was my hero, my rock and my best mate

One year since Amma passed away. Just have to close my eyes for the memory to flood back. Tears flow easily. It was mid morning of September 7, 2015; I was so fortunate to be with her when she uttered “all white”, her final words, spoken clearly. She was three weeks short of her 88th birthday.

It was unreal seeing her so helpless, lying on that hospital bed attached to machines. As long as I can remember, Amma had been so active and energetic. A dedicated teacher for 35 years, she didn’t just teach kids. Her work with girl guides, school bands, sports, all made the five schools she was a part of, so much better. Her beauty, pleasantness and gentle kindness drew people to her. Amma is remembered with love and gratitude.

Amma spoke to us that morning. We were so happy to hear her speak. The previous day, she hardly spoke. She had asked where I was, when I left her side for few hours. I wished I never left. I told her about the crowd outside her room when I arrived two days ago. Everyone loved her and wanted her to recover. I told her that I was staying with her for the next few weeks until my sisters took over. Family and friends, waiting to see her concerned the medical staff. They said she needed rest. Amma’s condition was serious and a risk of a cardiac arrest real. Through tears, I asked them to do their best for Amma as she deserved only the best. They said it was best to keep her under observation in her own room and not take her to the ICU. My brothers and I agreed to their plan of treatment.

I don’t know of many women like Amma. She took on so much so willingly. I understood perfectly when she told me of her plan to build an education centre in her village in Ratnapura. Now all her grand kids are big, she wasn’t going to spend her retirement idling. But she never drew attention to herself and never bothered anyone. She was my hero.

Amma was also a true patriot. She told us she would never leave her country for good when we suggested that she moved to Australia after Thaththa died, as all her children have made it their home. She missed us and patiently waited for all of us to come home to visit. She was living comfortably in her Nugegoda house with a maid and a close community around her. Every day, one of her five children would phone, her best friend would visit and her nephew and neighbours kept an eye on her. It was her way of living without being a burden. We knew she was happy though she missed us.

But it all changed one fateful evening. Our Amma who raised five children had none of us to save her from an unfortunate accident. Her regular maid had also gone home and a new maid was there that night. As she had been doing for 35 years, Amma had lit the lamp for the Buddha statue in her shrine. She had meditated, locked the gate and front door and gone inside. She hadn’t even broken her routine of writing her diary. The maid said she gave Amma dinner in her room. She hadn’t noticed the lamp catching fire. When she smelt it burning, it was too late. Fire had engulfed the whole front of the house. The maid had taken Amma out through the back. How helpless Amma would have felt with none of us there to help her? Or to stop her when she quietly went inside the burning house to get the gate key, to let in people who came to help. The girl said she found Amma in the corridor dragging herself up. Both her arms had been badly burnt. When neighbours took her to the hospital, she had told them that she was ok and nobody thought it was seri- ous. We came as soon as we heard. My heart broke to see her beautiful face swollen, both arms bandaged. It was difficult for her to talk to me.

That morning my younger brother came. We asked doctors about the surgery they planned for her. Amma saw us standing around her, she could see the colour of my dress. We were so relieved that her eyes were ok.

Amma spoke to us. With our hearts breaking, we listened.The clarity of her thoughts was amazing. She asked us to look after family. She mentioned her friends and relatives, and asked us to look after our aunt, her younger sister. My brother was trying to stop his sobs. I stayed calm. Because, I wanted to repeat everything Amma was saying, so she knew we understood all her wishes. Also, I knew she wanted us to be strong and it was the right thing to do.

We wanted her to rest. Later she asked for water and I gave her few sips. She blessed my family and others. I started massaging her feet, she uttered “all white”. Then she was quiet, sleeping peacefully. I asked her to breathe deeply. I knew she could hear me. Never thought these were her final hours. All I wanted was for her to rest and get better so we could hear her sweet voice and loving words one more time. It was not to be, as Amma never spoke again. She had a heart attack later that evening and couldn’t be revived.

I miss hearing her loving voice. I will never be able to ask her about the “whiteness” she saw. Her sweet smile is constantly in my mind. I hear her in dreams.

Slowly letting my heartache go. Lights are dimmed and my eyes are closed. Everything is quiet. Lying on my mat for the final relaxation of a regular yoga session, I follow the gentle voice of the instructor. “Take a full breath while counting to eight”. For the next few breaths, I am focused. My mind is with Amma again. I place my hand on her chest, “take a long breath Amma” but her ‘prana’ was leaving. My eyes start to fill with tears.

“Peaceful mind is peaceful heart”, comes the yoga instructor’s voice. I feel warm tears trickling in a steady flow now. They gather in my ear lobes. I am quietly crying. I can’t stop and don’t want to stop.