“Her deathbed confession was more like a selfless revelation – an ode of love to her children.”
Happy Mother’s Day!
Every Mother’s Day our thoughts roll around to the gratitude, appreciation, love, and respect we hopefully feel, and should be expressing, to our mothers, wives, sisters, and others all year round. Only this day we feel an obligation to show how we feel, and fill the coffers of card-making companies with purchases that articulate our feelings in ways many of us could never imagine.
I feel guilty saying clear memories of my biological mother are relatively few, even though she was an amazing and committed mother. The epitome of love and grace. A stable and self-sacrificial woman who routinely put her children’s needs in front of her own wants and needs well into my high school years…and that’s when we lost her. She died way too young. My memories of her do not do justice to the parenting pedestal she deserves.
I could chalk the fading memories of my mother up to years gone by – it has been more than 25 years. But even though specific memories of times and experiences shared may be fading, there is something far more powerful I can never forget. A feeling so ingrained in my being that I experience it daily. The passage of time can never dampen in my spirit how my mother made me feel – loved, sacrificed-for, and secure. Those are the foundation elements, the cornerstone building-blocks, upon which every positive character trait and confidence I exhibit today has been built.
People may forget what you do, but they will never forget how you made them feel.
Selfless. Even in her final days, for months prior to her transition my mother was bed-ridden and hospitalized, but I never heard her complain for herself. I remember my father spending every waking moment by her side. He slept in her hospital room every night on a narrow, hard, roll-away cot, holding her hand, spending time, making sure she knew she was loved.
Every day after school I would visit her for hours. Just sitting, spending time, sometimes praying, telling her about my day. Rarely did she speak back. In her final days she did not have the strength to say much. Just occasionally open her eyes, force a faint smile, and acknowledge appreciation for the company.
Then a day or two before she died I remember her struggling to speak the final words I remember her saying. Simply she said, “I don’t want to leave you. You and your brother are too young. I need to make sure you’ll be okay.”
Her deathbed confession to me was more like a selfless revelation – an ode of love to her children. She was not thinking about herself at all. Rather, her thoughts were for her children. She wanted to express love and concern for her two sons. Wow! The briefest choice of words summarizing the deepness of a mother’s love. Selfless. Even as her end drew near, showing more concern for the future well-being of her children than for own terminally-ill situation.
My mother gave me the irreplaceable building blocks of love, sacrifice, and security. The building blocks of everything I continue to grow into and become. For that I can never repay her, and I highly doubt she would ever expect repayment of any kind. Still, it would be nice to tell her how incredibly much I will forever be grateful. Her early belief in me allowed me to grow greater belief in myself. A belief that continues to grow, succeed, achieve, and evolve. Invaluable traits. Just a few of the gifts my mother gave me.
It is impossible to truly know something until it is experienced. For example, I could describe to you how to swim, but you could never truly know how to swim until you get in the water and swim. Certain things can only be known through experience. Such it is with a mother’s love.
No child can truly know the deep sense of love a mother has for her children, except that mother. We can attempt to know. We can express our gratitude and try to reciprocate that love. But a mother’s love for her children is more powerful, deeper, and more expansive than we can ever authentically know. It’s a love beyond human comprehension, expanding into the spiritual.
Shortly after my mother’s passing I stumbled on an old, dusty book in the basement of my parent’s house. It had been there decades, untouched. Later I discovered what a classic it truly is. The book is The Prophet by Khahlil Gibran. In this book I found a verse that struck me in the greatest way. The verse reads:
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.”
Amazing words, and I somehow believe all mothers know, whether realized or not, the truth in these words.
Mothers are like great vessels, in a spiritual, physical, and psychological sense, through which each of us are born, nurtured, and developed. A mother’s most basic gifts begin with love, sacrifice, and security, then evolves into countless other attributes that cause us to grow into the individuals we eventually become.
Mothers often consider children their greatest blessing, but the reality is the reverse. Mothers are our greatest blessing. The gift of a loving, caring, and sacrificing mother is greatest gift of all. We should make a commitment daily to treating our greatest gifts as they deserve to be treated.
Thank you for reading…wishing wellness and empowerment your way,