Sunday, 11 May 2014

Real Grief

There is nothing painful then the thorn of pain that pricks you each time you realize that you can never have the thing that you desire. Desire the most.

A small girl with her black curly locks danced around in the sand. Her brown eyes sparkling with joy mesmerized me as she cupped some sand in her tiny chubby hands and tossed it in the air. As the sand fell back to the ground she grabbed some more sand and tossed it in the air only to further decorate her dark hair with it.

The wind blew and the sand swept in her eyes. Immediately those little diamonds started welling with tears as she rubbed them and wailed a shrill cry. Immediately two worked up arms surrounded her and embraced her with care and love. Concern swelled in the women's eyes as she hushed the girl and blew in her eyes. She ran her slender bony fingers through her hair and picked her up and took her away as Lina watched them go, with sheer admiration and longing in her eyes.

She sat there, on the cold wooden bench on a warm sunny day as the blanket of agony spread over her as she remember that she wouldn't be able to touch a pair of chubby cheeks that gave her a feeling of belonging.  Or look in to a pair of large, round black eyes that looked back at her with overwhelming love that didn't know what was being judgmental.

Getting up every morning with the same thought in mind was hurtful even though it was like a daily routine. Getting up alone on one side of the bed with the other side cold and empty; empty in the absence of a little being. She wished someone would roll across her bed and hug her from behind, as the kids tiny body would press against her sharing her warmth.

She wanted a tiny pair of feet running around in the house tapping across the marble floor while the hysteric laughter of the child would spread across her house like the aroma was freshly baked cookies. She wanted to fill the cupboards with clothes smelling of baby powder and she smiled at the thought of the colorful toys scattered around on the floor recklessly.

As lina sat on the bench staring at the trees, she admired how well the sky had been painted with the warm colors of white yellow and blue. The wind danced around as her hair fluttered in the air and her eyes got lost further.

She had always imagined a small body cuddling in her arms as she would hold it and would put it to sleep. Looking at the baby she would lightly run her fingers across the baby’s cheeks as it would gently purr in its sleep. And sometimes its large watery eyes would look at her as the baby would lightly reach out to touch her cheek with its small palm radiating pure energy and love

Its playful laughter would make her smile as the baby would wriggle in her arms and laugh like there is nothing happier then being there with her.

Lina snapped out of her reverie and wiped the tears that had ghatered in her eyes. She sniffed and slouched back onto the bench. She knew she would never know how it would feel. To see a part of her have her eyes, or nose or skin. But she knew it would never happen. She would never be a mother she wanted to be. She longed to care and love and devote herself to her own child. But it could never happen.
She didn’t want to think why.

She was stubborn to have her own kid so adoption was a last restore. And she wasn’t even financially strong to do so. Lina sighed and got up. She wobbled and then walked onto the footpath brushing this thought aside. She envied all the mothers who walked with their kids. Though her friends complained about the mount load of work they had and how their lives were a terrible mess, Lina wished she could crib about something like that cause the gifts of motherhood were tremendous.

But she couldn’t experience it. As she walked back home all she knew was no one could understand er pain but a childless woman.

Few words- We all should be proud to have these loving women in our lives who we call mothers. As much as we love them they wouldn’t be mothers without us. So respect them and make their life worthy as no one cares for you more than they do. Happy Mothers Day. 


  1. Yeayyyyy!! #respecttt!! N very well written nikita!! Nice one!!

  2. The expression of profound grief is captured very well by you. Thour thoughts are really mature for your edge. Its touching..........