That Final Lesson of Life

Mom’s been gone ten years now, as she’d left, it was like her her whole life, continually worrying over us, that we are worried about her, she’d not become bedridden, she had a heart attack riding in the car on the freeways, and, as we’d rushed her to the hospitals, she was already in heaven, leaving us, flustered.

Born after the second World War, our families are traditional, not stated of love, we can’t even express the love we feel for one another well.  Or maybe, it’s how simple the world once was, or maybe, the schools just didn’t teach us how to express the love, but as mom left this world, she’d, gave you that makeup lesson on it.  Back then, you’d not known it yet, and now, it’d, dawned on you, and, as you grew older, it’d, caused, that warmth that overflowed from your heart.

from when you were a child…

photo from online

During those years of the past, you’d gone home often, to accompany mom out on walks, or to take her out to dine.  Once as you were about to cross the roads, mom suddenly took your hand; at that very moment, you’d felt, awkward, knowing you can’t back away, then you’d, squeezed her hand, and shockingly noted, how tiny her hand was, how soft.  You’d, held it with so much care, like holding on to an easily cracked, egg, and, you’d recalled, that back in your childhood years, she must’ve, taken your hand as you were a young child too, to get across the streets, to shop in the marketplaces, to take you to school, to pick you up afterwards.

And now, you’d often thought: a tall man, leading his mother with her hair all white with his hand.  That sense of shyness from the beginning, to that head up high and proud, strutting, such a beautiful, yet, quite rare, sight from the streets.

And so, this, is what you’d remembered about your mother, that she’d needed you to hold her hand, but, because of the way you were raised, you are not expressive in the physical forms of intimacy toward others, because that, was how you were, socialized from before.

to when you became an adult, and she, an elderly

like this…photo from online

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Filed under Life, Parent-Child Interactions, Parenting/Parenthood, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, the Finality of Life

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