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
unbolt me 
Heart warming, as I was reading I was remembering my mother and her last few years she spent with me before she died 7 years ago. She bravely battled her cancer surgery and it’s consequences, realised her declining health which was painful for both of us to watch as she was most energetic, multitasking, scholarly person. Now I only remember all the beautiful moments we have shared together.
Nice post!
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Thank you, Nehal. What a beautiful memory to share of your mother. I really appreciate that.
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That made me cry.
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I hope they were healing tears, my friend. (And thank you so much for reading.)
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Very beautiful…this reminded me of my mother whom i lost 4 years ago.How i wish she met her grandchild.I named my daughter after her to give her that honour
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What a lovely thing to do, my friend. A fine tribute indeed!
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This is so beautiful. I can really feel your adoration for your mother and hers for you. I hope you have much time together still, and that your presence reminds her often of her former self.
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You are very kind, Sarah. Thank you for making my day.
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So precious
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Thank you so much, Shikha. 🙂
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Oh Tony. Such a beautiful tribute to your Mother. It is so unfair – bright, happy human being reduced to shadow. So very unfair.
Sending you love.
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Thank you so much, Inese. I really appreciate that.
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This is so touching and absolutely beautiful. ❤
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Thank you, my friend. It means a lot that you would say that. 🙂
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Beautiful. Great prose. Thank you
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Thank you so much for reading, my friend.
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Beautiful lines ❣️❣️❣️ love this 🌻🌻🌻🌻🙂
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I really appreciate your kind words, asthaisha. Thank you so much! 🙂
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So beautiful. Brought a tear to my eyes. Thanks for sharing. I also posted this on Twitter. Yay!
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Aw, thanks so much, Selma. That’s very kind of you!
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