Dear Diary

July 15, 1997

Room No: 117

It was at the the extreme corner of the hospital's seventh floor. My father cleared his throat. That sound echoed back and forth the floor. There was no other patients or by-standers to hear that or to utter any words. We were the only occupants of that room in that floor. Appa held Amma's hand and called her, "Malini.." Did his voice had a crack? Did tears roll down his cheek..??

Today, as my father, brother, and two sisters stood around my mother’s hospital bed, my mother uttered her last trembling words before she died.

She simply said, "I feel so loved right now. We should have gotten together like this more often!"

Her words still echoes in my ears!

(Signed)

Vishnuvardhan.