No one really prepares you for the quiet heartbreak of watching your parents grow old.
As children, we believe they are invincible. They are the ones who always know what to do. They carry the family through every storm, make difficult decisions look effortless, and somehow find the strength to be everyone else's anchor.
My Amma has always been that person for me.
She stood by me through every phase of my life. She celebrated my victories, comforted me through disappointments, welcomed my husband into our family, and was there to witness the birth of my children. She helped raise them with the same patience and love she had shown to her daughters. The woman who woke up before dawn every single day, effortlessly running a bustling household, now struggles with something as simple as getting dressed.
Watching that change is an emotional burden unlike any other.
This is the same proud woman who raised two daughters to be independent, capable, and strong-willed. She taught us to face life with courage, to learn continuously, and never to lose hope, whatever the circumstances. To see her body gradually give way while her spirit still tries to hold on is difficult to accept.
How does one come to terms with it? You know your time together is limited. Yet knowing that does not make it any easier. Perhaps that is why I find myself treasuring the smallest moments.
The sparkle in her eyes as she enjoys an occasional sugar-free kulfi with the delight of a little child.
The laughter that follows when she mistakes my husband for her grandson.
Her insistence on taking a cold water bath during Margazhi despite everyone's protests.
Her determination to observe Ekadashi fast, even when we gently remind her that she no longer needs to.
There are mood swings. There are stubborn moments too. There are days of frustration for both of us. Caring for an aging parent often feels strangely familiar. In many ways, it resembles taking care of a young child. You remind them to eat. You help them remember names. You persuade them to take their medicines. You celebrate the smallest victories.
Life has a remarkable way of coming full circle.
As children, our parents held our hands until we were steady enough to walk on our own. One day, almost without warning, the roles reverse. We become the steady hands.
It is not always easy. There are days filled with helplessness, guilt, exhaustion, and quiet tears that no one sees.
But there is also gratitude. Gratitude that I still have the chance to sit beside her, listen to her stories, smile at her little quirks, and hold her hand.
One day, these ordinary moments will become the memories I cling to the most.
And perhaps that is the greatest lesson our parents teach us in the final chapter of their lives. Love is not only about being cared for. It is also about having the privilege of caring for the people who once made us feel that nothing in the world could ever harm us.
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