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Responder siendo hombre quien hace muchos años dejó de ser hijo, hoy como padre y esposo, es difícil ser objetivo. Tengo una anécdota que resume plenamente lo que es una madre, les cuento.
A partir de la muerte de mi papá en noviembre del 2002, pocos meses después, a mi mamá le salieron unos tumores en el seno izquierdo. Empezó para la familia un nuevo calvario, ya que papá falleció por cáncer de páncreas, fueron tres años difíciles, ahora la historia comenzaba para mamá.
Mamá en el 2002
En esos años, Cuando toqué fondo, mi madre me visitaba muy frecuentemente. Un día miércoles llegó sin avisarme, tenía una pañueleta en la cabeza que le cubría parcialmente la calvicie producto de la quimioterapia. Unos seis meses antes le había hecho una estereotomía total del seno izquierdo, pero la metástasis no le perdonó los pulmones.
Yo la vi muy apagadita, pero no le comenté nada. Pasé junto a ella tres horas ese día. El día domingo siguiente, junto a ella, vino mi hermano y unos sobrinos. A solas, mi hermano me contó que el día miércoles mamá «se había escapado del hospital» sin autorización médica y que sin decirle a nadie se vino directo hasta donde me encontraba yo… Eso me partió literalmente en dos, «así como me duele mientras escribo esta anécdota».
El amor de mi madre no lo expresaba con palabras, estaba implícito en cada acción, en cada pensamiento…
Responder siendo hombre quien hace muchos años dejó de ser hijo, hoy como padre y esposo, es difícil ser objetivo. Tengo una anécdota que resume plenamente lo que es una madre, les cuento.
A partir de la muerte de mi papá en noviembre del 2002, pocos meses después, a mi mamá le salieron unos tumores en el seno izquierdo. Empezó para la familia un nuevo calvario, ya que papá falleció por cáncer de páncreas, fueron tres años difíciles, ahora la historia comenzaba para mamá.
Mamá en el 2002
En esos años, Cuando toqué fondo, mi madre me visitaba muy frecuentemente. Un día miércoles llegó sin avisarme, tenía una pañueleta en la cabeza que le cubría parcialmente la calvicie producto de la quimioterapia. Unos seis meses antes le había hecho una estereotomía total del seno izquierdo, pero la metástasis no le perdonó los pulmones.
Yo la vi muy apagadita, pero no le comenté nada. Pasé junto a ella tres horas ese día. El día domingo siguiente, junto a ella, vino mi hermano y unos sobrinos. A solas, mi hermano me contó que el día miércoles mamá «se había escapado del hospital» sin autorización médica y que sin decirle a nadie se vino directo hasta donde me encontraba yo… Eso me partió literalmente en dos, «así como me duele mientras escribo esta anécdota».
El amor de mi madre no lo expresaba con palabras, estaba implícito en cada acción, en cada pensamiento…
Dedicado a todos aquellos escribas que contribuyen, día a día, a hacer de nuestro planeta, un mundo mejor.
Dedicado a todos aquellos escribas que contribuyen, día a día, a hacer de nuestro planeta, un mundo mejor.
Gracias a @brujita18 por considerar invitarme a este llamado de la comunidad #mundohispano. Es la tercera vez en seis años que publico en estos espacios. Leí las reglas de ampliamente esbozadas.
Creo que aún estás a tiempo de participar, únete a la comunidad de #mundohispano y explota la creatividad literaria que adormece dentro de cada uno… @chironga67, @sacra97, @lauril, @atreyuserver and @castri-ja.
Échame el Cuento: Di que eres Mamá, sin decir que eres Mamá
CRÉDITOS:
Imágenes: de mi propiedad.
Arte del título: CoolText
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As a man who stopped being a son many years ago, today as a father and husband, it is difficult to be objective. I have an anecdote that fully sums up what a mother is, let me tell you.
After my father’s death in November 2002, a few months later, my mother developed tumours in her left breast. It was the beginning of a new ordeal for the family, as my father died of pancreatic cancer, it was three difficult years, and now the story began for my mother.
Mum in 2002
In those years, When I fell low, my mother visited me very often. One Wednesday she arrived unannounced, she had a scarf on her head that partially covered her baldness from chemotherapy. About six months earlier she had undergone a total stereotomy of her left breast, but the metastasis had not spared her lungs.
I saw her very subdued, but I didn't say anything to her. I spent three hours with her that day. The following Sunday, my brother and some nephews came with her. Alone, my brother told me that on Wednesday my mother had “escaped from the hospital” without medical authorisation and that without telling anyone she had come straight to where I was… That literally broke me in two, “just as it hurts me as I write this anecdote”.
My mother’s love was not expressed in words, it was implicit in every action, in every thought…
Dedicated to all those scribes who contribute, day by day, to making our planet a better world.
Thanks to @brujita18 for considering inviting me to this call from the #mundohispano community. It is the first time in six years that I publish in these spaces. I read the broadly outlined rules.
I think you still have time to participate, join the #mundohispano community and exploit the literary creativity that lulls within each one… @chironga67, @sacra97, @lauril, @atreyusever and @castri-ja.
Tell Me the Story: Say you're a Mum, without saying you're a Mum.
CREDITS:
Images: my own.
Title art: CoolText
Creo que aún estás a tiempo de participar, únete a la comunidad de #mundohispano y explota la creatividad literaria que adormece dentro de cada uno… @chironga67, @sacra97, @lauril, @atreyuserver and @castri-ja.
Échame el Cuento: Di que eres Mamá, sin decir que eres Mamá
CRÉDITOS:
Imágenes: de mi propiedad.
Arte del título: CoolText
As a man who stopped being a son many years ago, today as a father and husband, it is difficult to be objective. I have an anecdote that fully sums up what a mother is, let me tell you.
After my father’s death in November 2002, a few months later, my mother developed tumours in her left breast. It was the beginning of a new ordeal for the family, as my father died of pancreatic cancer, it was three difficult years, and now the story began for my mother.
Mum in 2002
In those years, When I fell low, my mother visited me very often. One Wednesday she arrived unannounced, she had a scarf on her head that partially covered her baldness from chemotherapy. About six months earlier she had undergone a total stereotomy of her left breast, but the metastasis had not spared her lungs.
I saw her very subdued, but I didn't say anything to her. I spent three hours with her that day. The following Sunday, my brother and some nephews came with her. Alone, my brother told me that on Wednesday my mother had “escaped from the hospital” without medical authorisation and that without telling anyone she had come straight to where I was… That literally broke me in two, “just as it hurts me as I write this anecdote”.
My mother’s love was not expressed in words, it was implicit in every action, in every thought…
Dedicated to all those scribes who contribute, day by day, to making our planet a better world.
Thanks to @brujita18 for considering inviting me to this call from the #mundohispano community. It is the first time in six years that I publish in these spaces. I read the broadly outlined rules.
I think you still have time to participate, join the #mundohispano community and exploit the literary creativity that lulls within each one… @chironga67, @sacra97, @lauril, @atreyusever and @castri-ja.
Tell Me the Story: Say you're a Mum, without saying you're a Mum.
CREDITS:
Images: my own.
Title art: CoolText
As a man who stopped being a son many years ago, today as a father and husband, it is difficult to be objective. I have an anecdote that fully sums up what a mother is, let me tell you.
After my father’s death in November 2002, a few months later, my mother developed tumours in her left breast. It was the beginning of a new ordeal for the family, as my father died of pancreatic cancer, it was three difficult years, and now the story began for my mother.
Mum in 2002
In those years, When I fell low, my mother visited me very often. One Wednesday she arrived unannounced, she had a scarf on her head that partially covered her baldness from chemotherapy. About six months earlier she had undergone a total stereotomy of her left breast, but the metastasis had not spared her lungs.
I saw her very subdued, but I didn't say anything to her. I spent three hours with her that day. The following Sunday, my brother and some nephews came with her. Alone, my brother told me that on Wednesday my mother had “escaped from the hospital” without medical authorisation and that without telling anyone she had come straight to where I was… That literally broke me in two, “just as it hurts me as I write this anecdote”.
My mother’s love was not expressed in words, it was implicit in every action, in every thought…
Dedicated to all those scribes who contribute, day by day, to making our planet a better world.
Dedicated to all those scribes who contribute, day by day, to making our planet a better world.
Thanks to @brujita18 for considering inviting me to this call from the #mundohispano community. It is the first time in six years that I publish in these spaces. I read the broadly outlined rules.
I think you still have time to participate, join the #mundohispano community and exploit the literary creativity that lulls within each one… @chironga67, @sacra97, @lauril, @atreyusever and @castri-ja.
Tell Me the Story: Say you're a Mum, without saying you're a Mum.
CREDITS:
Images: my own.
Title art: CoolText
I think you still have time to participate, join the #mundohispano community and exploit the literary creativity that lulls within each one… @chironga67, @sacra97, @lauril, @atreyusever and @castri-ja.
Tell Me the Story: Say you're a Mum, without saying you're a Mum.
CREDITS:
Images: my own.
Title art: CoolText
