My Mother Died In My Arms
Walking along the desert, on the scorching sand, my hands held with Mother’s, forming an interlocking chain of fingers. Mine was smooth and well-kept, whilst hers were rough and torn. Rivulets of sweat trickled down my forehead, but thermoregulation did not serve as a respite against the unbearable heat. Water and food ran out 10 hours ago, and we were still on our lost voyage to find the nearest village.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there eventually. I promise Aaliyah.” Mother whispered, grabbing my palms with their rough, calloused fingers.
I managed to form a small smile. I wanted to ascertain Mother that I was doing fine, but I wasn’t. On the contrary, I was on the verge of a breakdown. I wanted to just fall down onto the sand and give up. But despite that, I had to carry on because I still had a modicum of hope in me. The thought that we could be walking hours, days, and weeks is haunting, but Mother has taught me not to succumb to these thoughts. Wiping the small droplets of tears threatening to spill from the corner of my eye, I heaved. Judging by our foreign location, we will not be getting anywhere soon enough. The grip around Mother’s hand tightened, and I leaned against her as we walked and walked into an abyss of obscurity and unsureness.
“How long more, Mother,” I murmured, in an attempt to restrict any further loss of energy.
“Soon,” she mouthed.
“ Mother, I can’t take it anymore.” I stopped in my tracks, resignation clear in my tone.
“ Darling, we’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” Mother looked at me with weary eyes. I knew she wanted to portray strength, but it was evident that she was drained and famished.
I nodded and quickly looked away, lips quaking.
It was like the desert was Devil’s Masterpiece. A maze of uncertainty and unbearable heat. The place where negativity feeds on your soulless cadaver and slowly seeps into your immunity, destroying your vital organs every second. Only the strongest can survive here, where all your thoughts and all your physical restraints will challenge you every moment they get. Only the strongest can muster enough effort to overcome that.
“I can’t stand it,” I willed my vocal cords to work, finally making an odd croaking sound that sounded animalistic.
The skin that lined my mouth immediately cracked and the metallic taste of blood was faint on my tongue. My thighs and legs were sore, my eyes were blurred from the undeviating sandstorms. An acute pain shot up my hands, irritating my nerves, causing me to vibrate. I was breaking down.
“Breathe, Aaliyah! Breathe!” Mother screamed, oblivious that what I was experiencing now, she was too.
Soon, our 32-hour voyage stalled. And it ended up with us dropping onto the ground, legs locked and eyelid shutting close. Spots formed a constellation in my sight as my head wobbled from side to side. My head smacked onto the ground, and the impact felt like a katana was jabbed right into my head. I spun my head around, looking at mother through half-lidded eyelids for what seemed like the last time.
“I love you.”
“Me t-”
Mother smacked onto the ground, her hair spread out on the sand. Her hands soon were lifeless, and the tension in her body left at once. That moment, all fatigue in me eluded. The realization hit me. She was dead. My mother was dead.
“ No, no NO, this is not happening now. No. Mother, wake up! We’re almost there …. we’re almost there,” I shook her vigorously. These words simply befuddled me, and it was making my brain hurt. Knowing that I was in a state of denial, I stopped shaking her and just sat there, staring at her deceased body that laid lifeless on the sand. I let out a small cry, and my shoulders deflated like a soccer ball without air.
Sorrow crept into my heart slowly, but I was at no mercy. I was wallowing waist-deep in a sorrow-ridden fugue. As she laid on her deathbed, her soul empty, and hands placed by her side, tears cascaded down my cheeks onto her body. Each tear was saturated with a myriad of emotions. As I carried her body and laid her on my lap, I recited a prayer, ending it with ave atque vale. Heaving a sigh of despondency, I kissed her cold and stiff forehead. I carried her limp body on my back to finish what she has not — to get back to the village. No matter how long this may take, how tiresome it will be, how many deterrents that would hinder my path, I vow to finish what she did not.
And there I was, body filled with lassitude, carrying mother on my back, taking deep breaths and staggering further into the desert.
