Where does one go, and who does one turn to, when you find out that your Mother, who loved you and cared for you- the one whom God gave you to raise you up and give you life and consciousness, is sick? Your Mother whom you at times dismissed, yet always in your struggles had the solutions and nurturing necessary to help you lead the life you are meant to live (but always fell short of). She cleans you up, dusts you off when you fall. She feeds you, clothes you, looks after you and prays for you– especially when you make the terrible mistakes you make in this wayward life we live. She is there, standing on the porch, disheveled and tired, waiting for you to come home; She never wavers in her beliefs about you, nor in those beliefs that make up the world she occupies. She set up fences in your life; fences that always kept you from falling off of cliffs, or drowning in rapids- fences that kept you safe. Yep, the fences that you always moaned about at the time, the ones when you look back upon your life were the ones that you were so glad they were there.
One day you wake up with unease, for Mother is ill. You cannot put your finger on it, but you KNOW: She is not the same; She makes no sense at times, contradicting Herself when before She would never dream of doing so. She acts strangely, and invites people over that in previous times would never darken Her door. Those who care for Her constantly try to assuage your concerns as ill-founded; after all, your Mother is old, and just needs to adapt to new conditions. You feel ignorant (for you are told you are), after all these people who are in charge are experts, and you are just that dumb kid of Hers that never makes his bed, ” Scuttle off! and leave Her care to us!!”
One day after a visit, having noticing a faint sickly odor in Her room, you scout around and find it- a phial of deadly poison. The truth comes to the surface, despite the pleas of innocence; those who were charged with the care of Mother, have been slowly killing Her in the hopes they can supplant Her with another; and you were not going to notice. I know Her; I know how she feels, how She moves and how She smells. I know Her voice, I know what She looks like, I know how She talks, what She says and what She always taught me. While there were many times I ignored Her, I always knew how She would comment and react to anything I did. I KNOW Her, and now, She is at deaths door; and everyone around me says there is no hope to save Her, that I must accept the “inevitable” and move on.
Never. She is my Mother, and knowing what love is from Her teachings, I know what love truly is- it is sacrificing yourself for those whom you love, regardless of the cost to you.
I love you, Mom.