Mother’s Eyes…

I’ve spent the past couple of weeks since my first post trying to find the words for the next one. Writing isn’t easy; you try and find inspiration around you through the people you meet or things you see or the experiences you have. But sometimes you look too hard beyond what’s right in front of you until something happens that jolts your awareness to that source of inspiration.

Yesterday was a big day for me. I bought a house. Correction, a home. That’s what Mum would have called it. I picked up the keys in the afternoon and once the agent had said her congratulations, laid out the champagne and taken the pictures, she left and there was a calmness that descended on the place. I put my bag down and sat on the soft carpeted floor in the living room, taking it all in. There was happiness, nerves, excitement. All the emotions you would expect. But deep down I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness because I kept thinking; “I wish Mum could be here to see this”.

And I suddenly got that hollow feeling, the feeling you get when you feel like something has just been ripped out from inside you. The exact same feeling I felt 4 years ago when the doctor walked out of the ER to tell us she was gone. The same feeling I got when I stood by the bed and reached out to hold her hand and felt it…icy cold. I felt a tear slowly roll down my cheek and got that choking feeling you get when you’re trying to hold it back. So I took a deep breath and looked up.

And there she was. Mum. My Guardian Angel. My Inspiration. Right there with me. She was always there; always has been and always will be. And in that moment I realized you never really lose your Mother. She may not be physically here anymore but she will always be present. You never stop feeling her love.

What it means to be me, what it means to be happy

That’s what she hopes for me

That’s what she gave to me

Mum. A huge part of why I’m making this trip. Why? I don’t know yet, I’m trying to figure it out. Maybe I just miss her. Or maybe I’m trying to fill an emptiness I feel inside. This emptiness from the guilt of the pain I caused her through my many mistakes and harsh words. This emptiness from the guilt of not having spent more time with her, talking and listening to her, understanding her. Her emotions, thoughts, beliefs.

Strange coming from her son…

“Of course you know her, you’re her son!”

And I do. I knew her as my Mum. This amazing Mother who despite dedicating her life to uplifting and empowering the most downtrodden people in society, never failed to be present in her children’s lives. Through all her personal trials and tribulations, persecution and suffering she was always there for us. Always loving and supporting and encouraging and believing.

Took me in her arms and made me believe

You could be anything

That’s what she said to me

Yet I want to know more. Some of you will understand what I mean. When you lose someone, you always wish you had more time, ALWAYS. I wish I could spend more time with Mum…

But I can’t. She’s gone.

I vividly remember standing alongside the conveyor belt at the crematorium 4 years ago. Hundreds of people gathered around mourning and paying their respects. Sad, sombre, tearful faces; sniffles and hushed whispers through the silence. And then the belt started moving, slowly inching Mum forward towards “the other side” as she lay peacefully in her casket. I didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t shed a tear. Yet at that exact moment this man standing right next to me cried out “AMMAAA!!!” in a cry that was filled with so much pain and sorrow. He leapt forward reaching out to her, as if wanting to hold on and never let go; to follow her to the end. I grabbed him and held him back, hugging him, comforting him as we both watched her being carried away; me in silence holding him; him calling out in tears to his Amma. I don’t know him or who he was but in that moment we felt each other’s pain. We both lost our Mother.

Well sooner or later

Someone’s gonna get hurt

I’ll know where to turn

I want to see my Mother through his eyes. I want to know this amazing woman in the way he and so many other people who call her Mother did. I want to understand their struggles and suffering and pain. And I want to understand how she made a difference in their lives. I want to share with them the Mother I knew. And I want to know their Mother the way they did.

Maybe this is why I’m making this journey. And what happens once I’ve done this? Where do I go from there? I don’t know. As I said, I’m figuring this out as I go along. Some people might think it ill-advised, foolish, selfish even. Yet none of those opinions matter to me. Mum always told me to be courageous, to follow my heart, to express myself, to stand up for what is right and to believe in myself. So that’s what I’ll carry with me. And maybe at the end of this journey, whenever that may be, I will know this amazing woman, my Mother, a little bit more.

See all you’ve done,

Is more, more than enough,

And all that matters to me,

Is how I will be seen,

In my mother’s eyes