dear mom

Dear Mom,

Before I entered the world, I didn’t know what love meant.

Is love a concept we learn when we grow up? If it is, then I first learned love from you.

Someone recently asked me: how do you define love? I think of your warm embrace, and I immediately know what love is — it’s compassion, warmth, unconditional, peace, and ease.

I am grateful for your love; but I think that love, though well-intentioned, came across in unintended ways. When I was eight, I remembered, you juggled the responsibilities of a full-time housewife while also working a full-time job. After waking up bright and early, you cooked breakfast; drove us to school; and then spent 8 consecutive hours filing tax returns.

Mom, I want to let you know that it’s okay to set aside time for yourself. You’re a human being, and rest is equally as important as work — everything in moderation. If your physical and mental energy represented a rubber band, I could sense that it was about to snap in two.

Mom, there feels like a lot left unsaid: I want to know what your dreams were, your aspirations. What was your favorite color? I know you listened to classical music, but who was your favorite composer? I might not receive an answer, but that’s okay. I can still appreciate your presence in my heart.

Mom, I see your passing as a message — there is much to be grateful for each and every day. While I can be so focused on the end, you remind me to stay grounded in the present.

You’ll always be there, to remind me to put my best foot forward. When I wake up in the morning, I make a conscious effort to identify three things that I am grateful for. Because I truly don’t know if those three things will remain constant forever.

Mom, you remind me that life is precious. Though this may sound trite, I am grateful to have known you for eight years. You remind me that there is so much to live for.

Love,
Victoria