Written by Suraj Shah.
Who has been present in the major events of your life?
In a timeline exercise I did one evening last week, I discovered a common thread – the importance of one single person throughout my life.
Timeline’s are more powerful than you realise. They help trace out the major events that took place at various stages of your life, and they help you remember, using the memory of your senses, what was going on at that time, who was around, and how you felt.
Some major moments in my life
Here is how some of my timeline looks (although ages may be a little skewed as memory has ways of playing tricks on you):
- Age 5: Attended primary school.
- Age 9: Won a competition.
- Age 10: Moved house.
- Age 10: House burgled.
- Age 12: Started high school.
- Age 13: Moved to a private school.
- Age 14/15: Tutor died.
- Age 15: Penpal died.
- Age 16: Grandma died.
- Age 16: Moved school.
- Age 18: Went to uni
- Age 18: Grandfather died.
- Age 22: Finished uni – got my degree.
- Age 22: Best friend died.
- Age 23: Travelled around India for over 3 months.
- Age 25: Mum terribly unwell. Mum died. Mum’s uncle died. Dad’s uncle died.
- Age 26: Met Heena (now my wife). The best summer of my life.
- Age 27: Got married. Other grandma died.
As I was recalling these major events of my life, I was recollecting who was around me, what was going on, and how I felt. A common thread emerged.
Mum was around for it – she was a part of the big moments in my life
Whilst I was at primary school at age 5, at a time when we all had to wear shorts, I once tripped in the playground and my right knee was so badly grazed that it was bleeding non-stop for over 5 minutes. At that age, it felt like decades! I remember how mum came to collect me from school to take me home and nurse me.
One Saturday morning, aged 9, I was feeling unwell and couldn’t make it to music school. So while I was resting on the sofa watching cartoons, I heard the doorbell ring, and mum answered the door. The postman had delivered a package, with my name on it. It was a brand new Nintendo Gameboy – I had won a competition! That became my prized possession. I suddenly didn’t feel so unwell!
At age 10, we moved house, but dad was so busy in the shop at that time that we hadn’t managed to unpack every single box. In the spare room upstairs, there were boxes of mum’s jewellery, our video camera, and a collection of home movies that hadn’t yet been transferred onto VHS. Within weeks of moving house, we were burgled. It was bad enough that they stole some of the expensive digital equipment and the jewellery, but why the video tapes too? Mum was distraught – all her precious memories from my brother and I as young children – gone.
At age 12, I started high school. The night before, while I was trying on my new uniform and getting my books and pens ready, I remember tears rolling down my eyes. I was scared about going to this new school, mum was in hospital undergoing surgery, and I didn’t want dad to see me cry. I missed mum and wished she was there to comfort me.
At age 13, mum tried her hardest to get me into a better school. Together we succeeded. I started at a private school, and luckily my fees were all paid for me by the school. Mum was over the moon, as education was so important to her.
Around the age of 14 or 15, my physics tutor died. I remember mum telling me the news after she got off the phone with the tutor’s wife. I didn’t know how to react. Then my penpal died. Then my grandma died. Mum wanted to support me through all of that, but we never really spoke more than a few words about each incident.
Soon I went to Manchester to start university, and within months, my grandfather died. I rushed back to London to be with the family. Four years later, I graduated from uni and my best friend died. Mum wanted to support me through that too, but once again we never really spoke more than a few words about it.
And then, mum wasn’t around…
Over the years, mum’s health deteriorated further and further, with several major operations along the way. When I was 25, mum was in hospital for several months and eventually passed away. Clearly, she wasn’t there to support me through that. Within weeks, her uncle died. A couple of months later, my dad’s uncle died. Mum wasn’t around to support me through any of that.
The following year I met Heena, and then we got married. Mum wasn’t around for that. My cousin brother got married. Mum wasn’t around for that.
The following year, my brother got married. Mum wasn’t around for that either.
The following year, another cousin brother got married. Mum wasn’t around for that either.
This year, my cousin sister is getting married. Mum won’t be around for that either.
September 26th, 2011, marks five years since mum passed away, and I certainly do miss her presence in my life. Some days I feel numb. Many days I feel lost. But then the clouds clear and the sun shines through, and I realise that I am blessed with such great people in my life, and that a purposeful and inspired life is inevitable.
The power of the timeline
Before this timeline exercise, I hadn’t realised just how much of an important force my mum was in my life. She was present, in some way or another, in almost all the major events that took place in my life.
If you have a spare half-hour, give the timeline exercise a go. Perhaps share what you discover, by writing in the comments below.
(Photo courtesy of Alice Lim)
4 thoughts on “Missing mum, 5 years on”
Yes, the timeline is so powerful and it shows that we all have regrets, Suraj. And yours have made you realize how important it is to talk about what’s important to you – so much was left unsaid between you and your mum. Thank you for sharing this and I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you for your kind words, Judy, and for introducing me to this timeline exercise last week.
When I got married and came to this country I was new and a stranger to this country but I had my sister Shilpa with me at all times to support me and stood by my side as I did not adjust to the new country and missed home but she gave me the love of a mum, sis, and my best friend.
From then on we were like best friends and inseparable. I had my children and they practically grew up in her house with her two boys and from then on my children to date think that her two boys are their real siblings.
We always were living in each others house, having holidays together. Spending weekends together. That was my life. We spent so much time together and were on the phone to each other every single moment we had time.
Her two boys got so used to seeing me practically living there. Then she become ill with her medical condition , which then I had to be there for her the two boys , so I was almost every moment there when I was needed. It become a habit , way of life for me and my two girls. I did not think of anything else for that time of my life apart to be there for her and her family while she was unwell.
Then when the final truth came at the time of her death which shattered our lives. It was almost impossible to get control of emotions as my only concern at that point was:
I HAVE TO BE THERE FOR THE TWO BOYS.
I HAVE TO SUPPORT HER HUSBAND.
WHAT DO I SAY.
I lost control of my own feelings, as I was totally lost. It was a very long , hard, painful loss. MY OWN FAMILY ie my two girls , who were at that time, only 17yrs and 15yrs, who adored her, can used to call here MUMMY suffered her loss terribly but they never spoke about her loss as they watched me ,cry, suffer, so they suffered in turn in silence. So my own family suffered in turn for the last 5 yrs.
My own girls had to grow up as they in turn felt they had to pick me up every time. Felt like losing a battle.
I can now finally say I have taken control of life, but that has taught me so much in life.
Smitamasi, you have been with us from very early on, and your support has been endless. Even now you consistently work hard to keep the family close together, and have loads of fun doing it. As a result, you are certainly adored by all us kids.
You have taken control of your life now, and it is great to see – keep loving, keeping living.