Pain and Punishment

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Losing mother was a great loss. Even though I knew she wanted to leave, desperately, the thought of losing her had haunted me ever since I lost father at a very young age. Mother never let my sister and I miss anything. She played the role of a parent, a guardian, a friend, philosopher, guide and allowed us to discuss everything openly with her. She was literally our visible God. Now, sister being her sole caretaker ever since her high school, (mother had many challenges to face health wise) and I working out of state most of the time, mother had literally become a daughter to her. So when mother passed away in her arms, sister felt she'd lost her daughter of 25 years. Mother never wanted to be admitted to the hospital. Once when she did, as she had fractured her arm and there was a mistreatment, she had to stay for over a week and everyday was a punishment for me. As for her, she felt neglected, ignored; as for me, I felt my energy draining away. I could neither sit, stand, sleep one night. By God's grace, our fervent prayers worked. When she recovered and returned, I did mention how difficult the time had been. The year before last, when her health deteriorated and the physician blabbered words of despondency looking at her, we decided to give her home treatment. We needed to respect her preferences. We had lost father at the hospital when a wrong injection was administered. We never wanted the same to happen with her. A time came when there was no way saline could be injected into the body. She was sleeping all the time. Whenever we tried pouring water in her mouth, she wreathed in pain. One day when mother was breathing hard and the oxygen cylinder seemed to fail, sister stayed awake the whole night, searching for the right medicine. Finally she left it to God. The next day mother passed away in the night, while sister was trying to feed her, in her arms. It was later that she was told, mother should have been given more water. She had thought of my early work schedule and my inability to stay awake for long and so never woke me up that night when she was frantically searching for a medicine that might abate mother's heavy breathing. Every time there was a serious health issue with mother, she recovered, owing to my sister's care. Despite giving her two hundred percent, it is this confusion that sister sees as an unpardonable act and has taken upon herself a sense of guilt ever since. She has lost 15 kgs in one month. She has given up eating and drinking all that mother loved. She has turned away from God, who she had trusted upon to take care of mother. All words of practical wisdom seem to fall on deaf ears. She has lost all energy and enthusiasm to work, to explore, to create. Yet, the home is neatly maintained, food is well cooked and everything is done to the t. She has started writing her diary (something unthinkable) and is selecting poems (uploads from FB) that go with her feelings. While I feel the freedom from entrapment mother is enjoying, sister is reliving the pain everyday. No amount of solace works. And that for me is a punishment.