It was twenty-four years ago yesterday that my mother passed away. She was fifty-eight years old; my brother was twenty-five and I was twenty-two. I still vividly recall that feeling of having the world dragged out from under you, that rising, choking panic of sinking, of thinking that you could just disappear from the face of the earth without a trace. Of it suddenly becoming blindingly clear that the universe is indifferent to us and our cares, and that for some, there are no second chances. Of the dawning realisation that the remainder of our lives that we thought were so full of possibilities, were now fraught with uncertainties and dangers. Yet twenty-four years later, here I am trudging on. My brother left us when he was just forty-seven, but his legacy is carried on by two beautiful children who look to the world with the same eager curiosity and sense of wonder that I recall my brother and I having, a bit more than a lifetime ago. And I wonder what my mother would have made of the world we live in, and the lives weve made for ourselves. She would certainly have had no qualms about letting us know what she was less than impressed with. :) Its both deeply inspiring and profoundly disquieting, the way we seem to be able to soldier on regardless of whatever life throws at us. Thats the one lesson which is abundantly clear from my mothers life, though. Widowed at thirty-nine, she persisted, then prevailed against an overwhelmingly hostile world. She wouldnt have expected any less of me.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 16:49:10 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015