We Look Back Through Our Mothers
A little over than two years since my mother left her mortal being. Her last smile remains a fond memory. Her absence makes me sad and full of regrets. I had a difficult relationship with my mother and fought with her a lot. It took her death for me to understand that the woman I wanted to be had its soul in her. A woman, who loved life, danced her heart out. I never saw my mother cry which could be the reason that I too hesitate to cry in front of anyone while my friends shed tears at the drop of their hats. But I did witness bouts of depression in her. She was a sensitive soul and that made her vulnerable. I thought of her as weak and asked her to fight but now as I’m about to touch forty and as life refuses to calm down with its challenges, I feel her pain. I look back through my mother.
And this makes me sad that I wasn’t kind enough to understand her and regret spending more time with her. Now how do I compensate for those lost hours and days which I didn’t spend with my mothers.
So I start appreciating myself and my life because everything I acquired and was proud of comes from my mother. My ability to laugh loudly, to go out and travel alone, to speak my mind and of course her helping nature are a daily reminders of her presence in my life. I’m aware that there are many like me and hence I thought I must connect with them through my words. Though I hold a doctorate in English Literature but am still hesitant to write about my feelings. We all live in such contradictions. All this keeps my wound fresh and alive as I continue to be a reticent.
So I thought I would heal myself by sharing my pain, not afraid of being judged by others. Can we talk to the dead, can I tell my mother how much I love her- these questions float in the endless pool of thoughts that my mind caries. Maybe I should cry something my mother never did. I believe I will heal myself through the memories of my mother. As I said we look back through our mothers.