Rexi Joseph shares about her experiences with her mother before she passed away.
Four months ago, I sat beside my mother at our home in India. The weekday morning’s bustle had subsided: bills paid, maids attended to, children and grandchildren stopping by on their way to work. Mom finally had a quiet moment. She turned to me and asked, “Why me?”
She was referring to her recent cancer diagnosis. I had flown in from California days earlier to support her through chemotherapy, but I wasn’t prepared for such a profound question. “I don’t know, Ma,” I fumbled. “Even doctors don’t have all the answers. Think of the things we build: refrigerators, washers, they last a decade if we’re lucky. The human body endures for 80 years. We have to be grateful for all the good years.”
My response felt inadequate, but I knew grounding in faith might bring her solace. At eighty, Mom was remarkably healthy. She walked to church daily and anchored our large family for 35 years, ever since Dad passed away.
We hoped for a miracle, but her condition continued to worsen. When you live far from home, there is a constant dread: a midnight phone call bringing tragic news and missing the final goodbye.
When Mom grew too weak to answer calls or send texts, the silence was deafening. I flew back to India. With doctor-recommended palliative care, we brought her home. For two weeks, I had the privilege of caring for her, holding her hand and simply being present.
Watching her decline was agonizing. Yet she passed away peacefully at home, wrapped in prayer and surrounded by family. My heart grieves, but I carry a deep sense of peace. I was there when Mom needed me most.
Love you, Ma. I will treasure the part of you that stays with me, in songs, books and love of nature.
With a Perspective, I’m Rexi Joseph.
Rexi Joseph is a software engineer. She has lived in the Bay Area for the past two decades, her home away from home.