Long I have struggled with the relationship with my mother.
A connection never lost, since we were separated, when our ways parted in Mumbai, India.
However the connection got lost somehow.
Due to space, time and the way of living.
Not by circumstance.
It is the reconnection of her presence, understanding her passing.
To grieve a loss that is part of life.
We all loose someone that is dear to our heart.
Nobody is spared from that.
However, it makes me wonder, what makes it special.
This reconnection with my mother.
Perhaps to understand that she is my mother.
An answer I needed to find for myself.
A journey in itself.
However I have taken easier roads.
I can’t say specific why my mother made her a mother.
It wasn’t that she did or said some things.
Where I believe this it is something better than other mothers.
But what I know and remember is that she never shed a tear, although I saw her cry many times.
Of course I was still a little child.
But it wasn’t my imagination nor that I thought something different.
I just see the truth with my eyes and love isn’t blind.
My mother, was surely no saint.
I believe it is part of life that things don’t always go right.
Whatever she was doing, it just always made sense, no matter what happened.
At least this is what I remember.
Just with her presence, it made her my mother.
But how is this connected with my love journey in general?
A question I am asking.
Although it is an expression of my love for my mother, it is also an expression of the love for myself.
Her genes are still alive.
An awareness, of something I carry.
A root of reality, a foundation connected to my family.
Better to say an expression of the love for my mother.
To understand that love never dies, although the vessel it was carried in, does.
With this acceptance, she is my mother.