Keepsakes!

I'm reading and loving this book - 'Nobody will tell you this but me'. The writer talks about her mother, her grand mother and about her great grand mother. Their characters, their lives, their troubles, their stories all integrating to make up the writer's story (in real life).
While reading this book I really felt I should've recorded my mom's songs, her voice notes or recordings, should've taken pictures of her when she's her usual funny self, should've written down the most valuable advices she gave me even without asking, should've gone with her to those morning walks and most importantly should've written down those recipes which are now delicious memories!
But ofcourse I rummaged through her stuff after she was gone and put together what I call a 'Memory Box' of all her things. The comb, powder, hair bands she last used, her diary with no entries about her day or thoughts but expenses and some phones numbers, the lyrics of the songs she liked (It would've been great if she discovered Youtube or Smule), Muggulu and some articles and news paper cuttings that Dad wrote or appeared in, the small bottle with small mirror pieces (she used to stitch mirrors on some of my frocks and her blouses) and her wardrobe full of sarees and some night gowns. 
I remember me and my brother used to sleep with her night gowns for almost a month after she was gone as her gowns carried her smell. Slowly like anything in this world, the smell became faint and was gone. 
I don't blame her or myself for not collecting or documenting her memories, there wasn't time or the energy, she was gone too soon and her memory even before her. 
But not a day goes by without thinking what an amazing 'Ammamma' she'd become to my daugther. Would they tell stories to each other, would she cook for her grand daughter, would she pamper her silly, would they go on long walks and watch lots of movies, would they sleep together when on vacations, would they do maths together, would they go for lunches together? Would she come visit us like how all the other moms come for thier daugthers?
I guess I'll never know. For all I know she loved me fiercely! And I love her immensely!
And in my memory, she's healthy, happy, smiling at me, in her favorite sarees, talking like she's singing a song, laughing at my silly jokes, always cheering for me. She always asked me the minutest details of my day and surroundings, the dress I'm wearing, what I ate for lunch, everything about me was a big deal for her, I was her celebrity.
I think she'll be super proud of me for all my cooking, all these chores that I do and the fact that I'm working. Without judgement, without criticism, without complaints, just as I am, far from perfect, but for her, perfection is me! 
This is the kind of loss that no one truly understands and I would not wish for anyone to go through this pain! This is a feeling no medicine can cure! This is fate no God can un-do! 
So I hold on to the love that was, to the memories that were! 
My Keepsakes, all of her, as long as I live, she'll live through me!


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