(Written By Raju Kakarlapudi)
From the time he was born, he never stopped. In his infancy, he never stopped crying. When he was a toddler, he never stopped running and he made me run behind him. He could never be stopped from being the best at school too, be it either in academics or sports. Even before I realized that I was getting a year older every year, he got into college. The college was far away from our place. He had to stay away from me, apparently for the first time since I brought him out of me.
I went to drop him at the railway station. As he walked away from me towards the train, I was wishing he would turn back to say that he loved me. He never stopped. He got on the train; I was still looking at the door. He came out suddenly, ran into my arms and said the words, the way I wanted them to be. We spoke for a while and he left.
Technology virtually put us together in the same room, but I hated it. In spite of all the video chats I missed him. One fine day he called me and told that he was very happy. I asked him the reason for it. He replied saying that he did not want to reveal it now. Out of anxiety I asked him if he had found a girl. He laughed at my inability to guess. I continued to make assumptions. My thirst for knowing what was making him so happy never quenched fully. I marked the date in my mind to ask him later.
Few months later, I got a call from his college administration that he met with an accident. The world around me paused for one heartbreaking instant. I barged out through my door, ran out on to the road. I reached him as fast as I could. I was letting out torrents of tears as I came to know that he was on life support.
Two days into the best care possible at one of the best hospitals in the country, he did not recover. The team of doctors took me to their counseling room, my heart was thundering. I knew something disastrous was about to be conveyed. They informed me that he was brain dead. I tried to hold my soul from leaving me as I did not want to die before crying my heart out. The doctors waited for me patiently as they had something more to say. I stopped crying gradually, composed myself and forced myself to sit properly in the chair.
The doctors said that my son had voluntarily signed up for an organ donation few months back. They showed me some documents; I saw his handwriting, his signature and the date. I was stunned when I saw the date, it was the date when he called me recently and told that he was extremely happy. The doctors were asking for my consent. The consent involved voluntary termination of life support, followed by a live heart transplant to a young adult admitted in the very same hospital.
I asked the doctors for some more time, I went to my son. I sat down next to him and held his hand. He did not hold me back; his hand was pale and cold. Hours later, I realized that with each passing minute a soul waiting for my son’s heart was tiring out. I swept his hair off his brow and left. I spoke to the doctors and signed all the necessary documents.
Tests were conducted; the matching for transplant was adequate. They asked me if they wanted to see him for the last time. I did not have the courage, I let him go. They took him to the operation theater as I walked away. I heard from the staff that the surgery took a long time. The silver lining was that the surgery was a success. The plastered body of my dear boy was handed over to me.
A few days later I was called to the hospital. I was taken into a huge hall, inside of which there were many people, most of whom looked like doctors and to a corner there were a group of people who looked like any other family. They were standing there with tears in their eyes and hands folded near their hearts. I knew it was a thank you gesture and a sign of respect. A few speeches later, all of them stood up and bent down in respect for the courageous decision that I had made.
The doctor asked me if I wanted to meet the recipient. I denied at first but later decided to see him. They took me to his room. I went to him and held his hand. They were pink and warm. I bent down to his chest; I hadn’t realized that I started to cry. While I was crying, I turned my head to a side when my ears made contact with his chest. I could hear his heart beating with perfect rhythm. I turned back to his chest and kissed his heart as I knew that it formed inside my body.
As I kissed the chest, there was a slight movement in him. I realized that I was disturbing him. I decided to go out. As I was leaving, I realized that something was holding on to my hand. He was not completely awake, but was trying to open his eyes. My hand wriggled its way out of his grip. I swept his hair off his brow and left. I decided I would never meet him again, as he should never feel guilty that he was living at the expense of my loss. I knew that I lost my son forever, but I had realized the fact that that his heart never stopped. He was born to never stop and I am proud of him!
Never Stop - A Heart-Rending Story Of The Hardest Thing A Mother Had To Do
