My mother was with him at the time.
And I was in a med school in St. Petersburg Russia, utterly unaware that back home my father was on ventilatory support.
Our relatives and the treating doctors implored her to call me and ask me to return home, on account of my fathers condition, but my mother never did.
My mother (a pathological optimist and a woman of unwavering faith) decided to never inform me, her only son, that my father was grievously ill, since she firmly believe he'd recover and I shouldn't be bothered, as it would affect my education.
My father did recover much to the surprise of most of the physicians treating him, and I only realized the gravity of the situation when I visited India for my winter vacation.
Any woman or man, in her place would be splitting hairs, but not her.
It is also of an interesting point to note that my mother is physically handicapped. As in she has difficulty walking on a day to day basis.
This woman faced with such a monumental situation decided to let me be. This woman decided to bear the storm herself, and refused to cower to depression, frustration or any ounce of weakness.
The only adjective I can use for my mother, is adamantine.
Adamantine, stubbornly resolute and a pillar of strength.
I've always admired her care a damn attitude, but this one incident will remain in my memory forever.
My mother has faced numerous difficulties with a ridiculous smile on her face. It has even led to heated arguments between me and her when my life would be blowing up in my face and my mother would have a placid pragmatic and positive approach to everything.
My mother and I don't always agree on everything.
But my rebellious mother is a prime example of a woman who's the very personification of strength.
She had her own interior design firm, which she later discontinued in order to focus more on my upbringing (something I wish she hadn’t done)
Despite her physical difficulties she continues to whip up delicacies in the kitchen.
Perhaps it's this aspect that makes me attracted to rebels, social weirdos and misfits.
Owing to my mother, I visualize an ideal woman as a pillar of strength and fortitude.
My mother is this ridiculous internet addicted goofball, who keeps bombarding me with viral videos even when I'm at work.
But I'm very grateful to this goofball who introduced me to faith, to Harry Potter, to emergency medicine (when I was depressed and massively confused about my career) to Oscar Wilde and to an excellent culinary taste.
She's always been my anchor
And she's an example of how a parent should be
A mentor, a best friend, a nag and a confidant.
Proud to be a Mammas boy to this day!
