going home

My mum called me today. Ammamma is dying.
She's 90 years old. Loves life. Loves to dress up extravagantly in silks she can hardly carry the weight of. Knows how to pout until she gets her way. She taught my brother and me how to play chess. Turned a blind eye every time we cheated to win. She hasn't sun in over 50 years, but she will still lift her eyebrow if she hears one wrong note! We grew up listening to her strident voice as she yelled out "Bala! Apaswaram!" every time my mother goofed up during a song. She still hopes that she can hold on long enough to hold a great-grandson in her arms. She has the humility to acknolwedge that she will not learn everything in her life. That there will be things she will never understand. And yet, she knows how to operate the microwave and the cell phone.
She has probably forgotten more about pain and suffering than the rest of my family put together have ever learnt. And still she smiles.
I just hope I can reach home and say goodbye to Ammamma.
Is it just coincidence that Vizag is 500 miles away from Chennai?