Thinking of my Mother

This morning I thought of my mother. I have done that many times – for 36 years now; every day I can think of.
When she died, I had been away from home for more than ten years. She lived in Africa, I in the US. In all that time, I saw her twice. Travel was expensive and I was not wealthy. There was no Skype, phone calls were expensive. Mail was with that thin air mail paper that few people today will remember. I did not write often. It must have hurt her.


What are the thoughts and feelings, once loved ones leave you forever?

  • Regrets for being young and selfish. I did not communicate often, she must have missed me. I was young and self absorbed. Today it makes me stop, when I am resentful about my kids not calling.
  • Not telling her often enough I loved her. Today I do not hesitate to say that to the ones I love – often, an old softie.
  • Not being mindful, nothing is forever. I know that now.

These are very expensive lessons. When I was young, I was fearful of losing my parents. They made me feel protected. It turns out, once I was on my own they really would not and could not help me. Now I am the backstop of my family. I do not mind. The memory has taught me to cherish the task, the fundamental trust endowed in me by those, who come for help. My mother died young and in much pain. I am sure, the moment of passing was a relief. But I regret that she missed out on so many things including seven grand children. All her kids turned out ok. She loved children most of all. But passing at 48 she could never see any of her kids succeed, could never see the next generation.
We humans look for causality, we look for justice. This is useful for our simplified models that make us function in the universe.
Her death shows this model is an illusion. She deserved more.


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