Dare to Die or Dare to Live? A Journey of Body and Hope

The bitter reality of my mother’s passing back to her Creator felt like it was crushing and squeezing me from all directions. It made me feel like I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think clearly. The cause of her death made me feel even more devastated because I never expected that for the last few years, my mother had been suffering from a serious illness that took her life, and I didn’t know!

How smart and patient my mother was in enduring and hiding her pain from the beginning when the symptoms were still mild, until the final phase when she was already hospitalized, she still tried to convince me that she was just tired. My mother’s passing so quickly gave me many lessons to learn. Because just struggling to live a comfortable life is not enough.

As a mother, my daily routine is guided by a straightforward goal: providing the best for my family.  However, the way to achieve the standard of living I set sometimes takes up too much of my time and attention, making me forget about the health of my body and my own mental health.

As a working mother with an unpredictable 24-hour work schedule, in an unusual place where the situation and conditions are considered ‘safe’ if we don’t hear the whizzing sound of bullets for a week, without a housekeeper, with two children of different ages who, due to the situation and conditions, also have to be independent and can take care of themselves. 

My mother, who lived in a different city, was in her old age and had diagnosed with last stadium of servic cancer with metastasis to vertebrae which make her so suffering in pain, can’t walked even sit. It took me a month to arrange the bureaucracy for her treatment in the capital city where there was a hospital with complete facilities and doctors.

My memories of her are so vivid, so full of life. I can still see her, a whirlwind of motion, her hands caked with rich, dark soil from the rooftop garden. The scent of blooming plumeria and ripe mangoes was a permanent perfume in our home. She was a vegetarian for as long as I could remember, a testament to her dedication to a healthy life. Every morning, she’d ascend those three floors of campus stairs, her steps purposeful and strong, never even out of breath. Her body seemed invincible, a fortress of health built on a lifetime of movement and good food.

But then came the crushing silence of her absence, and the shattering realization that I never truly knew the full extent of her pain. I learned, too late, of the silent battles she fought, the bitter truths she kept locked away. The weight of a secret sorrow, a burden so heavy I know I couldn’t have carried it alone. Yet, she did. She swallowed the suffering, piece by piece, so as not to burden anyone around her. Her physical form, once so robust, withered under the immense pressure of that unspoken pain. It was a slow, silent erosion that ultimately took her life in a shockingly short time.

And in that heartbreaking finality, I am left with a terrifying lesson. I see now that a healthy diet and an active body are not enough to shield us from the world’s cruelties. True well-being requires more than just physical strength. It requires an open heart and the courage to share the weight of our burdens, a lesson my strong, beautiful mother learned too late, and one that now, I must learn to live by.

Her passing was more than just a loss; it was a thunderclap that shattered my illusion of invincibility. It forced me into a painful, gut-wrenching re-evaluation of my own body, my own mind. I’ve always admired the courage of a parent who would lay down their life for their child, to step in front of a speeding car or to pull them from a raging fire. It’s an almost primal, heroic act.

But standing here now, a new, more terrifying question echoes in the silence: Do I dare to live for them? Do I have the courage to choose life—a long, healthy, vibrant life—so that I can be here to see my children grow from small, trusting hands into capable adults?  I look at my own hands, tired and a little worn. I feel the dull ache in my back after a long day and the constant hum of exhaustion in my head. The thought of finding my way back to an ideal weight and reclaiming my physical health feels like a monumental task, a mountain I’m too weary to climb. The weight of my age and the relentless pace of daily life feel like chains.

Yet, I hear a voice inside me, a quiet but firm whisper. This isn’t just about fitting into old clothes or looking good. This is about being present. It’s about being there to hold their hands, to cheer them on, to be a solid, healthy foundation for them. This is a promise to them and to myself. And if something is truly important to me, I know in my soul I will find a way, I will fight for it. The taste of this new determination is both bitter and sweet—bitter with the grief of what I’ve lost, but sweet with the hope of what I can become.

Cheer up, me… Achieve ideal physical health while still maintaining mental health as a working mother and a wife who supports my beloved husband. Fight…!!!

Kreator : Vidya D’CharV