A Story of Memories, Love and Longing
Kashish's story

Kashish

Often when people ask you about your loved ones who have passed away, they focus on “how” they left, as opposed to the “who” they were. When we asked Kashish if she would like to tell us about her mom, she was taken aback for a second

My mom was… She was such a kind person, maybe too kind – she never complained about anything, even when she was sick. She was a big time foodie, loved dogs, loved to travel and party, she was an amazing baker and singer, she had an unabashed and unapologetic sense of humor, which got her into trouble too. But that was just who she was, you know? She was honestly such a great mom and wife. And she was so, so talented as an artist. She was my best friend. 

I found a huge bag full of her artwork and it felt like there was a piece of her with me. You always have bits and pieces of the people you lose, hidden somewhere – you continue to carry them with you throughout life. I see it in me as well: there are so many intricacies we share. She lives on. It also made me wonder who she could have been if she was here, if life was different. 

My mom’s illness began when I was in class 8th. It was a rollercoaster none of us wanted to be on – her health was fluctuating painfully. I hadn’t told anyone about my mom, none of my friends or classmates knew. All they knew was that I skipped some of my final exams, and they would say something like “Kashish is so lucky, she skipped maths exam”. And I couldn’t tell them how this is the worst kind of luck I would never wish for. 

Before my mom fell sick, I was under the (wrong) impression that we were a very open and communicative family – that I was a communicative person. But this was a reality check. We never freely talked about what was happening, we never opened our hearts to each other even though we were all going through the same excruciating pain and helplessness – we still walk on eggshells when it comes to mumma. My family never realised how collective this grief is. She passed away when I was 16, and I never fully processed it I think. I never sat with myself and accepted how much I truly missed her. But all denial of hurt is now opening like floodgates. 

How could I fall apart back then? I had always been labelled the “responsible mature kid”. I hid away my tears when I went to meet her after her surgeries, I kept it together with everything my 16 year old self had. I had accepted what was going to happen, cancer was the end. It was her end. I wish I had been more optimistic for her, for us. 

At 20, I had developed extreme health anxiety. My life was hell. On the surface, I was functioning fine physically but emotionally, mentally – I was a wreck.  And all of it came back to this part of my life I brushed off with studies, achievements and college. But you can’t run away from your grief, I guess. That’s when I started therapy. I don’t think I’ve still come close to processing her death. At 24, I’ve just begun. I can’t watch any of her videos, I just can’t get myself to. I think this grief just always goes on. But grief… I’ve never really seen it as something purely negative. It’s this strange connection—a bridge between us that keeps her with me in some way. 

What’s something you wish someone said to you at 16?

Oh god. Just that, it’s not my fault (said through tears, Sanya and Sanjana have also teared up by this point), that I don’t have to hold it together for everyone. I just wish someone had hugged me. I was a kid. It’s been such a lonely journey, I just wish someone was there for me at 16. 

I’ve also realised how the only person who can get me out of my worst times is myself. Despite all the support and love, I need to show up for myself because how else will you go on with life? This is something my mom used to tell me – that life will move on, and I guess it really does. This life will go on.