One of the most difficult and disheartening things for someone is to cope with the loss of their significant other. Every couple dreads it the most. A recent post on Humans of New York featured a beautiful love story of a husband and wife, narrated by their daughter.
This love story is the purest definition of 'till death do us part'. She began recalling, “He had five daughters. And whenever he came home from a work trip, we’d all line up to give him a kiss. But he always kissed my mom first, because she was his ‘first love.’ Then he went on to his ‘second love,’ and his ‘third love’.”
The daughter then went on to reminisce moments from her childhood when road trips and her father singing to her mother was a normal thing. She continued to describe, “On weekends we’d all pile into the car and take these long road trips. We’d drive for hours, and the whole way he’d be singing to my mother. It was a normal thing for us because we were used to it. But that kind of affection wasn’t normal in our culture. We used to have these karaoke parties with our extended family, and everyone else would sing normal songs.”
Her dad always loved singing old Bollywood romantic songs to her mother who loved each second of it. Talking about how her mother used to dress up for her father, the daughter said, “She’d get dressed up for him. She’d put on her brightest red lipstick. And she’d do her hair just as he liked it—even after she got sick.”
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“He had five daughters. And whenever he came home from a work trip, we’d all line up to give him a kiss. But he always kissed my mom first, because she was his ‘first love.’ Then he went on to his ‘second love,’ and his ‘third love.’ On weekends we’d all pile into the car and take these long road trips. We’d drive for hours, and the whole way he’d be singing to my mother. It was a normal thing for us, because we were used to it. But that kind of affection wasn’t normal in our culture. We used to have these karaoke parties with our extended family, and everyone else would sing normal songs. But Papa would choose these old, romantic Bollywood songs. And he’d sing directly to Mama. She loved every second of it. She’d get dressed up for him. She’d put on her brightest red lipstick. And she’d do her hair just as he liked it—even after she got sick. The tumor was deep in her brain. After every surgery, more and more of her would slip away. When she couldn’t walk properly anymore, she grew embarrassed of her limp. So Papa held her hand wherever they went. He’d sit next to her bed, and stroke her cheek, and recite the Quran until his lips went dry. Some nights he’d fall asleep sitting up in his chair, but then he’d wake up, and begin praying again. In her final moments, when she was slipping away, he leaned close to her and whispered: ‘You won’t be alone. I’m coming with you.’ I heard him say it. And I got so angry. It seemed selfish to me—as if the rest of us weren’t worth living for. But all his children were grown. Most of us had our own families. And I guess he felt like there was nothing left for him. Every day he visited Mama’s grave, even though we told him not to. He applied for the plot next to her, and every few hours he’d ask if the cemetery had called. He was obsessed. When the paperwork finally arrived— I rolled my eyes. But he got very quiet. For the next two days he barely said a word. Then on the third morning, he walked in our front door and told me he wasn’t feeling well. I bent down to help him with his shoes, but he collapsed on the floor. There wasn’t time for him to suffer. Because by the time the ambulance arrived, he was already gone.”
Everything about this perfect love story sounded much like a dream until she mentioned that her mother was later diagnosed with a brain tumor and underwent many surgeries. She added, “The tumor was deep in her brain. After every surgery, more and more of her would slip away. When she couldn’t walk properly anymore, she grew embarrassed about her limp. So Papa held her hand wherever they went. He’d sit next to her bed, and stroke her cheek, and recite the Quran until his lips went dry. Some nights he’d fall asleep sitting up in his chair, but then he’d wake up, and begin praying again.”
In the final moments of her mother's death, her father leaned close to her mom and whispered: ‘You won’t be alone. I’m coming with you.’ This made the daughter feel angry at the moment and she said, “I heard him say it. And I got so angry. It seemed selfish to me—as if the rest of us weren’t worth living for. But all his children were grown. Most of us had our own families. And I guess he felt like there was nothing left for him.”
After her mother lost her life, her father used to visit her grave every single day. He even went on to apply for the plot next to her and he got so obsessed with it that he kept inquiring if the cemetery called every few hours. “He was obsessed. When the paperwork finally arrived— I rolled my eyes. But he got very quiet. For the next two days, he barely said a word,” she added.
The daughter wasn't prepared to see what happened on the third day with her father. She got told by her father that he wasn't feeling too well, “I bent down to help him with his shoes, but he collapsed on the floor. There wasn't time for him to suffer. By the time the ambulance arrived, he was already gone,” she concluded.
Source: indiatimes.com
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