On April 24, 2021, when my mother’s oxygen level went below 85, we started calling every possible number that was forwarded on WhatsApp to find a hospital bed. All the hospitals in Delhi (India) were filled with patients and there was no hope at all for us. Covid-19 was spreading fast and was mercilessly killing people. It had affected the whole city. Our family was infected too and that was the beginning of the darkest chapter of our lives.

My mother’s health deteriorated very quickly the moment she got the virus as she had comorbidity. Somehow amidst all the chaos we got hold of a hospital that had only 1 bed available. We rushed her there and as per COVID protocol, we were allowed to enter only till the emergency ward door. So we told her that the hospital would take care of her now and she would be completely fine after a week. Little did we know that, that would be our last conversation physically together.

The city was hit with 2nd wave of the pandemic. Many People were dying outside hospitals and at home. We were only relieved that we at least got medical help for our mother. But that relief was short lived. Each time the doctor called to give update our hopes were shaken. Our expectations and reality were quite apart. The first week passed and my mother was not even near recovery. On the 2nd week we were informed that she had a cardiac arrest. The dark cloud of despair grew. On the same week she had to be intubated which meant she was sedated and her vitals were left to huge ventilating machines.

We still did not lose hopes. We simply could not. Our mother, who was always there like she was meant to magically be available for us at all times, who, like an angel, could drive away all our sickness, problems and sorrows was now helplessly lying unconscious all alone. We had to bring her back. We needed her. We were incomplete without her. She was irreplaceable.

The third week started. We dreaded the daily update calls from the hospital. Our hands trembled and our voice weak when we answered the calls. We could clearly sense that the doctors knew what was coming. But we were not ready yet. We detested even the thought of giving up. We felt powerless and weak. We prayed ceaselessly. Our eyes were swollen with the unceasing tears. We yearned for some good news at least a little something. But that was not going to happen.

On May 16, Sunday, as we attended the Sunday service (via zoom), the guest speaker spoke of letting it go. The entire message seemed like it was meant for our family specifically. That day, we got a different kind of courage, a different kind of understanding. We realised that by wanting to hold on to our mother, we were only putting her through several pains, the pain that she went through at the time of cardiac arrest, the sharp piercing of multiple needles into her body, the external pipe that was inserted into her lungs, the dialysis process that was eventually started.

On May 17 morning, our family sat together and decided to finally let go of our dear mother because we wanted to free her from the pain she did not deserve. We wanted her to be in a safer world without sickness and sorrows. As we did that, on the same day, in a few hours, we received a call from the hospital that our beloved mother had finally rested in peace!