My mother, Mary Abraham (Amma) of 84 years old, was born in Mavelikkara in Kerala. When she was 8 years old, she lost her father and was sent to a convent for education by her widowed mother. Not allowed to pursue higher studies by her elder brothers, she was married off. In the city, she learned to talk English, Tamil and handled all home affairs. She spent a lot of her time in prayer behind closed doors. And with her frugal savings helped many widows and evangelists who came to her with a need. Her only regret was not pursuing higher studies, and she always voiced her sadness about not having a father.

She was afflicted and diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease in 2009. She was now a faint resemblance of the iron lady and caring mother she used to be. During her prime,selflessly she spent her days cooking in the kitchen or baking and praying for her husband, children, and then grandchildren. Amma's degeneration was gradual till she became bedridden in 2017. In her latter days, everything came to a standstill for her - except for servants and family going in and out of her room to make sure she was comfortable. She enjoyed her oil bath with her favorite Malayalam Christian songs running in the background. A slight nod of her head, her hand reaching out to pull the saree or dupatta or clasp her hands together, was a sign that all was well with her. Whenever I pulled up a chair to sit beside her or bent down to check on her urine bag, she would always have her hand reach toward my head to make some order out of my unruly curly hair. Ironing it out like an imaginary crease of my uniform. A smile of recognition would cross her face ---but for a fleeting moment and then gone.

She always gave a big smile and nodded her head when James (My husband) asked her if she had her favorite fish curry for lunch. But, over time, her responses slowed. It was heart-wrenching to see once so active Amma, now trapped in a physical body and unable to comprehend or communicate pain, hunger, or anger. Her eyes, when open, would light up or would be grim with despair/pain. She could not even react to a biting mosquito or an irritating fly that would somehow find its way into the room. Hours merged into days and years as she lost track of everything. We could only make sure she was as comfortable as possible and prayed for her peaceful exit without much suffering. Not a day; we missed giving her an oil bath and making her sit on the chair while we cleaned her bed and changed her sheets.   

When she finally left us to be with her lord, the whole house that once was filled by her silent but dominating presence suddenly became still and deafeningly silent. The vacuum had set in, and suddenly I felt lost. Yet, even when she left us, she made me realize the value of the verse 

" Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the lord " (Psalm 150:6).

My Amma will always be remembered for her tearful prayers and strong Christian values   and discipline. 

“Rejoice in the Lord always, and I again I say rejoice 

Let your moderation be known unto all men, the Lord is at hand.

Be careful for nothing; in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God “

Philippians 4: 4 -6 

In this way, she lived by touching many lives by her modest donations collected by scrimping on the house allowances received. My husband and children will miss her physical presence. As for me (Abraham Bindu), she will always be there in the house following me and telling me silently to “count my blessings“; after all, I was her pesky little rebellious daughter who fought fiercely with her on one issue or the other.