I miss my mother. I always miss her this time of the year. Naturally. I wonder if one ever stop missing his or her parents? I was very close to my mom. People tend to think that if you lost a parent, you weren't that close to that parent. Because they can't imagine that it could happen to them. Loosing their parent. So if they're that close to their mom, it is simply unimaginable to loose her. Thus, you couldn't have been that close to yours, because the pain would be too much to bear.
Unfortunately for those that think like that....yes, you CAN be that close to your mom, and still loose her. And yes, sometimes, especially in the beginning, the pain IS too much to bear. But somehow, with the grace of God, I got through it. And still get through it. The pain is never gone. I have acceptance, yes. I don't cry anymore every time I look at a photo of her or think about her. But it's still a hole in my heart. It will always be a hole in my heart. But, 11 years down the line, it's bearable. The missing stays, though. It never gets any better. I still wish I could phone her and tell her about the horrible day I had. Or email her and get that twinge of excitement when I see there's a reply. I wish for her wise words to sooth me, her support to carry me through the hard times.
My mom was a very special person. Yes, I know, everyone says that. But as a person, as a human being, mine was really, really special. She had what we call in my mother tongue, a depth of spirit that was unequaled. I've never came across anyone else that had such depth, such soul, such beauty. She was an intellectual, and she understood human nature like no one else. She had empathy for the worst kind of human beings. Whereas I saw things and people as black and white, she saw them in shades of grey. She understood how I felt, but she had empathy for everyone. Good or bad. She could summarise people immediately and knew where they came from. She understood what shaped people.
These unique abilities made her the perfect highschool teacher. She didn't work in the normal school environment though. She went to teach the poorest of the poor. Communities that had very little to give. Very little support. Very little going for them. And she threw her whole weight behind her job. She gave everything. Her mind, her body, her soul. I can't remember much of the mourning service we gave her after her death. But what I do remember, was the beautiful words that her collegue spoke. You could hear how much he (they) valued her at the school. How much she meant to them. Professionally and personally. And how much they're going to miss her.
My mother loved music. Apart from her family and work, this was her big love. She loved Handle, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Schubart, etc. All the big composers. For relaxation, she would lie down in the afternoons, and for an hour or two, she would put her music on loud and just gave herself over to the music. It calmed her. It restored her soul. I could never get into classical music like she did. Unfortunately. Her other hobby was sewing. She made most of my clothes, and allot of her own. She also loved to study. I lost track with the number of degrees and majors she got behind her name. She loved geography the most. When I think of her, I remember her sitting by her desk, plotting the topography maps laid out. She studied through the post. The number of times I went to her desk to kiss her goodnight.... such bittersweet memories. And flowers. I can't see a beautiful flower, without thinking about my mom. She loved, loved, loved flowers. ALL flowers. She planted as much as she could afford, and tended to them like a mother. She would adorn her home with them. She loved putting welcoming flowers in all the rooms for visitors. When I developed severe hayfever from flowers, she would pick those that affected me least, and put one or two in my room. She simply couldn't NOT welcome me home without a flower in my room.
And the sea. Waenhuiskrans, to be precise. That's where her heart was.
I wish she could see me and my children today. I wish she could hold my babies, and get to know them as little people. See how unique and special they are. She would've LOVED them, I know. She would've most definitely have had a very special relationship with Mr N, because he sees the world like I do, and my views made for lots of interesting conversations between me and my mom. She would've had the same with mr N. She also would've loved seeing Boeboe. My spitting image. How special would that have been for her, to see her own baby repeat in her granddaughter. She would've been so please to see me as a stay at home mom. And even more pleased if she saw I had 4 children. She too had four children. And she always thought that I wouldn't be able to have as many. Because times have changed and all that jazz. She would've loved seeing me defy the odds and be as bold as to go and get what I want. To make my dreams come true. It would've pleased her no end. All that she wanted for us, was that we would've turned out well-balanced adults who live productive and happy lives. It would've made her very proud to see that that was exactly what we all did, in the end. It would've also please her very much to see all of us living so close together as we're doing. To see us support each other, care for each other. She would've loved seeing the bonds that formed between her grandchildren.
I do believe that she's with us, always. That she DOES see them. That she does get to know them, even if it's not with us in body. But in spirit, I know she's with us. I feel her sometimes. And sometimes I can even feel her emotions. I know, that sounds strange. But it's what I feel. I miss her so much. She was my rock, my support. The one person that didn't care what I say or do. That was always there for me. That always understood me. I'm fortunate that my husband and sister covers some of the hole in me. But nothing can ever take her place. I loved her like I loved no other human being for 22 years, until I met my husband and had babies. For 22 years, my mother was my whole world. The horror of loosing her...it left a permanent scar on my heart.
It hurts me to think that one day, my children will also experience this pain. But I hope that like me, they would find peace after their mother's death. That they'd have acceptance. And that they too would think of me with love, respect, longing and a sense of all encompassing support and care. I hope that they'd get over the initial sharp pain of loosing me, and then find solace in the life I lead. That they too would know I was ready. That I had the life I chose. That I was happy and had no regrets.
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