“A Mother’s Separation and a Frozen Moment of Time”

The 15th of December has always been, for me, an extremely sorrowful day—

“another 15th of December without my mother.”

A day that leaves only me in grief.

The 15th of December is the day my mother passed away,

“a day forever suspended in memories.”

On the morning of 15 December 2001, at nine o’clock, my mother left this world.

As far as I remember, on the morning of 15 December I offered the Fajr prayer. The day was quite bright—the sky was blue, the golden sun was shining, and the severity of the cold had eased.

“The wound of cold sunlight.”

The blue sky stood there, holding an empty embrace.

It was the month of Ramadan, a 29-day Ramadan. I went into the kitchen, made tea, prepared broth for my mother, and poured it into a thermos.

“That day, the fragrance of a mother was sealed inside a silent thermos.”

My mother had been in the hospital for the past three months.

Test after test was being conducted, yet the illness could not be identified. In fact, she had been ill for six months—there were issues like cholera and similar ailments.

Eventually, she underwent brain surgery. Her hands and feet would twist, her neck would stiffen, and all of this would happen after taking medicine. Due to the excessive use of medicines and injections, her eyesight also became crossed.

In the hospital, the doctors’ attitude was extremely harsh—it felt as though one was being torn apart.

My sister and my aunt were with my mother at the hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital with my father and brother, my mother had already passed away. The doctors were checking her by attaching the heartbeat machine.

“That day which never passed.”

Then we brought her home, and on the same day—due to people’s insistence—she was buried, because Eid was the next day, so they said she should be buried that very day.

After that, a long period of trials began. Slowly, the layers of people started to peel away.

People went so far as to arrange wedding processions for their children on the 15th of December, and then they would specially invite us—and I was always the first to refuse.

My family members do attend their weddings, but my heart becomes even more sorrowful.

I have seen yet another face of life:

when a deep, scorching sun fell upon my head.