The calls I miss most

She was bedridden for almost thirty years. Everything was done for her by someone else, every single day.
I started helping when I was in third or fourth standard, just feeding her. As I grew up, it became more, bathing her nature. But I always knew she loved me differently than she loved anyone else.
The last few months were bad. Infection, pain, no real relif for her. At some point I pray for it to end. And when she did go, I felt relieved. Not happy. Relieved. I still feel guilty saying that out loud.
She passed in December. At the funeral, with everyone around, I don’t think it really hit me. There was too much happening, too many prople. It’s now, months later, when I am alone, that I actually feel it.
I still miss her calls. Every lunch break in college, she’d call and sometimes I was too busy to pick up. She’d just say, do your work , whatever you want to do, just don’t hang up on me.
Her name is still in my phone. Nani calling. It’s never going to light up again , and if it did , she wouldn’t be there to answer.