I
looked to the sky, I went into the deepest part in the hard drive of my brain,
I took a walk back to memory lane, I stared at the sun (and - no I didn’t bark
at the moon), I talked to God and then I talked to myself like a crazy person. I was looking for this thing called inspiration. I have been on this quest since Mother’s Day
and that was a month ago.
It’s
really heart breaking to think about my mother as this sad person and full of
worries. I have never heard her laugh. Or seen
her smile. At times she’d wear a half-smile
and I couldn’t help but to wonder if she faked it. My mother lived her life worrying about things
she shouldn’t be. She carried her burden
and my father’s and of everyone else around her. Me included. She worries about my father not eating his
veggies & fruits and for not drinking enough water. She would dig every flaw within my
father and then she’d spend days worrying about them. Constantly nagging. It’s a mystery as to why she chose to
be unhappy and sometimes, I worry I will be just like mother.
Have
I mentioned that my mother passed because of a heart failure?
I’ve read a couple of medical journals linking sadness to the illness of
the heart. After all the heart is one of the most important organs in the human
body. It works around the clock and never
takes a day off. All it asks for is to
be treated right with a daily dosage of happiness, 2 ounces (or more) of laughter
and a thoughtful of gratitude.
The
only one time I recall mother laughing is when I was 8. I got home from school, parked myself in
front of the TV and Sesame Street was on… I turned the volume up as they had a
spelling contest of some sort. I got my
spelling right and mother heard it so she laughed – out loud and it was
straight from her heart. Thereafter I
remember cracking my head thinking of something to ask her. A question to turn her frowns into a smile or
better yet a laugh but I wasn’t very witty. It felt as though someone has stolen all of
her laughter and she is never to laugh again.
Mother
was never curious about my happiness. She
never asked. It felt as though she
didn’t care and I didn’t matter. If she
were alive today, I would ask her two questions about her sadness. If she were alive today, I’d tell her how
happy I have become. All is too late so
now I wish she could see me from the heavens and nodding in approval.
They
say action speaks louder than words.
Mother’s action was rather peculiar.
She would ask me to pray five times a day but never teaches me how. She expects me to put a scarf on my head, but
never buy me one. So I grew up not
really knowing the proper way to pray and I detested the scarf. She would nag and nag some more. Mother invited sadness and misery loves
company.
I
know it’s wrong for me to compare mother to Nora Walker or Claire Huxtable. I could watch them over and over again and never be bored. They have true love
in their hearts, a book-full of kind words… words so soothing to heal a wound but stern enough to show who is the leader of the pack. I wonder if there is mothers out there who
are just like these warrior mothers. At
times I would daydream of becoming a mother myself (here’s hoping!!) and all I
wanted is be my children’s best friend.
They could talk to me freely about their ideas, hopes, dreams and
everything else in between. I'd encourage them to speak their mind and speak freely.
The
best quality time spent with mother was in the kitchen. She’d teach me how to cook and encourage me
to eat healthy. The best nag she ever gave was to tell me to always eat lots of veggies and fruits. I inherited few of her good traits and they are proof that I am my mother's daughter.
This
blog is dedicated to my mother ~ with all my love.