https://pixabay.com/photos/baby-mother-mom-and-baby-family-1178575/
... That was several years ago. Then mum was still alive and bubbling with health. Then we, her children, still dwelt under the shadow of her magnanimous love and care. My mum is someone I can describe as the best of mothers. Sure enough she had her frailties which we her children had to cope with. No one is without frailties.
Not that mum wasn't disciplinary. She frowned on any illdeed as any good mother would, but her presence to us was more welcoming and tolerant than that of dad who seemed to wield a hand of intolerant iron over us. I remember many times my mom made me a marvellous show of love. There was one time my smartphone was damaged and all efforts at repair had failed. The next day mom was home with a newly bought smartphone which she presented to me. I was awed. And that singular but heartfelt act of kindness bonded me to her even more.
Thus me and my siblings lived, our lives illuminated by the bright light that was my mum's love and care. Until tragedy decided to strike and obliterate our joy.
The tragedy was an illness that warranted surgery on my mum. After the surgery mum coped really well and was soon out of the recuperating bed and about her normal life. I, was personally joyful she had pulled through the scary ordeal unscathed. But my joy soon came to a dead, deary and dispairing end.
Mum fell to sickness again. It turned out, after a series of tests and scans, mum was taken with a killer disease. The Asian doctor attending to her case said the cure would amount to spending thousands of dollars every month. But after all the drugs and medications, dear mum finally succumbed to the illness.
It was a most difficult time for me. I remember one morning I was to go to hospital with mum. I was at her bedside and we talked. From the way she talked I knew the end was near, and I was overwhelmed with so much sorrow.
I continued to shed tears for mum even after her burial. Even as I write this piece, my heart is being suffocated with sorrow and I feel the tears coming to my eyes. If I could make just one wish come true, definitely it would be to have mum back. But it's better not to dwell in the past.
Ever since her death, I can still feel the vaccum left by her departure. And I endure more than you can imagine. Night after night I am roused from sleep, my mind filled with images of how she suffered before she died, and my body bathed with sweat.
But although the time or season of experiencing her care and compassion have ended, I have to focus on coping with the season of living without her. I continue to nurse the hope of seeing her again, for I'm a firm believer in heaven and the afterlife. And I look towards that day with burning enthusiasm.
Thanks for stopping by.
