Mother Love

 

This is a tribute to my Mother.

My Mother, who has always been there, for my Father, for my Sister. For me.

As I edge towards the end of my fifth decade of life, I find myself thinking about all that she must have done and seen, all that she must have lived through that I will never know about. What was it like for her before me? And what was it like having to give birth to a deformed child? And yet she nursed me. She raised me. She taught me to be a good boy. She loved my face.

She was there the day I discovered my Father could cry. My Sister poked gentle fun at her for falling asleep watching television. And she’d listen patiently as I babbled everything I thought my teenaged self needed to say. Of course, I’d figure it out eventually, whatever it was. It was just nice to know that someone cared.

My Mother.

She welcomed my soon to be Wife with open arms. She grieved on the day I married and left the nest. We continued to hold hands over the telephone. Her heart never abandoned me, my Mother, who was kindness personified. Who I strive to emulate.

And now I see that time has caught up with her. Now she’s a ghost of her former self, no longer the woman I grew up with, looked up to. Kindness personified has become a slow and drawn out forgetting. She is reduced to haunting the shadowed halls of her oldest memories. I hope at least it’s beautiful there.

Is it supposed to be like this? Is it not enough that we die? Must we also be stripped of everything we are and hold dear? Must we be taken away before we’re truly taken away? Yet we live like there will be a tomorrow, hopeful in the face of certain oblivion.

For my birthday this year I want the impossible gift. I want her disease to be lifted, thrown away. I want my Mother to live well into her nineties, happy and full of years. I’m not ready to let go.

I wish you could have met my Mother, back when her spark was compassionate and bright. But she is fading now, and most likely won’t remember you. My Mother, who loved my face. Who stooped low for me. Who fed me watermelon.

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

183 thoughts on “Mother Love

  1. Unbelievably gorgeous. Those aren’t the right words (it is of course believable) but you know what I mean I hope. It’s not often a post stops me in my tracks and sends shivers of connection all through me these days, but this post did that. So so beautiful. Much love to you and your mom Tony. This writing feels golden through and through.

    I will say though that having been at the sick bed of at least a handful of dying people, and near the sick bed of at least another handful, sometimes the best gift we can give them is our undying support, unconditional love (as you have done here), staying by their side, with a heart that is smile-wide, allowing them to talk through their fears of death, and letting them hear yours too, while all the time letting nature take its course, and letting them go.

    But you (and your god-heart) know the best road though (as your text clearly shows). And miracles do happen (though sometimes not as expected ;)). 🔆🌄🌈💛🦋🌌🙏✨ xoxoxo

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Taken aback by the seepage of fluid on his feet, he looked around and found that they were forlorned distant memories so easy to dredge up. But today the now A total mystery; frustrating to see the sister I once knew so self assured so free. Now dependent upon the kindness of strangers and family. A new old tale of memory loss and the eyes whose sparkles cry, and we cannot stop the seepage at our feet because we are the delta feeding our missed memories. I understand too!🙏🐕♒️🤚

    Liked by 4 people

  3. What a beautiful tribute to your mom. My mother-in-law had Alzheimers and it was terribly tragic to watch the light go out of her eyes. My dad suffered from dementia before he died and those days were hard. It hurts when they don’t recognize you and think they are at some distant place. But for both of them there were moments of clarity where it seemed like the old days of laughter and love. May you treasure those moments she can recall. I hope she is lost in only pleasant memories. 🤗

    Liked by 5 people

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