Except for the occasional bandana tugging, Mom was motionless for the most part of the 10-minute trip. I attempted to strike a conversation with her a couple of times, but she just wouldn’t budge. All she could afford was the sporadic Mmm’s and Yeah’s. She wasn’t the bubbly, chatty personality that everyone knew. She loved life and lived life to the fullest. But at that moment, it seemed as if life had completely been drained from her.
The sun finally peered through the clouds when we arrived at our compound. My brother was the first one to alight the vehicle and made his way to where my Mom was seated. Understandably, it took some time before she could get off. And when it was finally empty, I remained inside the car and tried to take everything in.
It was so surreal, like watching your life unravel before your eyes. Before I boarded the plane, Mom was in her usual self, sending me the usual affectionate messages. But the moment I got here, everything changed; like someone switched the mode from colored to black and white.
I tried to stifle my screams, but a few tears still managed to escape from my eyes. I couldn’t shake the feeling how unfair this whole thing was – unfair for her and for us.