The leaves were a pale ruby and sunlight filtered through them, making them aglow. Autumn had arrived, she realized just then. Strange enough as the realization was, it had been winter for her too long. She looked down at her daughter’s still face, traced her fingers in circles over the big eyes and the tiny chin. Such a beauty, such a good girl.
“Rhea, sweetheart, look at that tree. It’s so pretty, isn’t it?”
No answer. One last attempt to change a change irreversible. Failed. She knew he was watching her. She didn’t even have to look at him to know his eyes were fixed on her. Neither of them said a word, but the silence between them seemed to be screaming in each one’s ears. How will they ever speak again, she wondered. How on earth will they ever face each other after this? She fixed her gaze on the leaves again. The intricate pattern of scarlet veins painted in her mind a picture of blood flowing like a river in a human body- a healthy, alive human body. There had been so little of it remaining inside Rhea until a few days ago, and now, there should certainly be none left at all. The sunlight, filtering through the bloody leaves and flowing in through the window, cast her face in a crisscross of light and shadow. They say the dead never look as they did when they were alive, but to her, maybe for the first time, Rhea, lying still in her small bed, covered in silk, looked more alive than she ever did while she was living. And why shouldn’t she, when her illness had made a living ghost out of her. Nothing will ever be able to move that calm pallor now, set in that angelic face like stone. She had anticipated the arrival of this day for years and yet, she couldn’t believe it finally came when it did.
She never expected her grief to be so quiet. She wanted to howl in pain, but it felt like the only emotion she was capable of expressing at the moment was of numbness. She wanted to say something of comfort to him too, but it seemed too much of an effort. Besides, what difference would words make now, when there was nothing that could be made different. The trunk of the tree was chipped at places where she would mark her daughter’s height every year on her birthday. Her gaze shifted to the topmost mark and held there. It was right then that she felt the heaviness settle somewhere deep within her, pulling her inside, inviting her to come and never leave. Whom would she live for now? Rhea wasn’t her everything. She was her only thing. All her broken pieces got fixed on their own when she was born. Every day became full of purpose. She was her purpose. She was the change in her seasons. With Rhea gone, it will always be winter for her. Now she can hear the pieces shattering again and this time, they will never be fixed.
She looked at her again, carving her daughter’s face in the canvas of her memory, covering each detail and locking it in her mind. She was so scared she’ll forget her, but she knew that was impossible. No amount of time will ever fill the space between them. They were peas in a pod. Two of a kind. How could she ever go on now, she thought again, and why should she? She sensed a hand graze her shoulder. His hand. It was time to say goodbye.
No one ever told her grief feels so much like love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corner of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.
The long-awaited tears finally came, and they came out all at once accompanied by sobs and rasps. She was shaking all over and collapsing within, clutching Rhea’s hand tightly in hers one last time. She kissed the soft skin and while she was doing it, her mind brought forth the day she had kissed her child for the first time. What she wouldn’t give now to go back to that day. What she wouldn’t do now to bring her back. Such a beauty she was. Such a good girl.