A Long Wait

“Hello! John Doe speaking.”
“Papa, I ran into Bob at the airport in Chicago. He gave me the shocking news that Mummy passed away. Is this true?”
“Yes. It is true.”
“When?”
“Oh, let us see. It was quite a while ago. When was the last time you phoned?”
“It is March now. I was much too busy even to breathe last year. It must have been April of 2008.”
“Well. She passed away between then and now.”
“Why didn’t you let me know? I am the only child you have.”
“You are a busy person. I didn’t want to distract you from whatever you were doing with a marginal detail in your life.”
“Marginal detail? Marginal detail? Death of the real birth mother is not a marginal detail. It is not as if she was a step mother.”
“I always thought that any one on the margins of your life is a marginal detail.”
“She was not on the margin of my life; she was at the centre. She brought me in this world, sustained me for years with her own milk, sacrificed her career to bring me up. She was a model for me to follow. You know it.”
“What I know is that during her long illness she craved to hear from you but never did.”
“How would I know she was ill if no one would tell me?”
“If you ever picked up the receiver or responded to the messages you would have been told. But you never did.”
“I am so busy – jobs, social demands, children’s activities. I can’t always attend to the phone.”
“Exactly. That is why Mummy and I were on the margins. Come to think of it I did leave the messages but you did not follow up.”
“I am in a fix now. My dear mother is long gone and I did not get the opportunity to grieve. How will I ever get a closure?”
“You are lucky you had the closure without having to grieve. What is left to close now?”
“The hurt. Hurt of a child for the dead mother. The wound has to be healed.
“You are a grown up with your own family and too busy to pay attention to any one else. The wound can’t be all that big. Get a Band Aid.”
“Stop hurting my feelings. What happened to the ashes?”
“She was buried, not cremated.”
“Buried! Why?”
“That is what she wanted and that is what she got. She had only one last wish and she was entitled to its fulfillment.”
“Where is her grave. I must visit it to pay my last respects.”
“She rests in Montgomery’s Everlasting Home. When will you be coming?”
I will check my calendar. I have too many calls on my time right now. Perhaps next summer I can stop over on my way to Timbuktu. In the meantime I will get my secretary to call the florist and send some flowers.”
“She will enjoy the flowers, she always did. Come whenever it suits you. The grave will be there for a long time. Just as well she stopped waiting for her baby when she was still alive.”
“You are incorrigible, Click.”
‘Click,”