Mother, Should I build the wall?

On a late night thoughts meditation, I come across a song I haven’t heard since forever; “ Mother” by Pink Floyd.

It always takes me back in time as it reverses my mind to raw memories of my mother.

mother_pink-floyd_2She wasn’t the coolest mother at all. My mother isn’t the best in showing her affection.

When I was born after 6th children she was tired. She cared. But she was tired, and relied on my sisters to care after me.

We lived in a huge house, and the youngest of three sisters and three brothers, it was always easy to get lost somehow.

In a huge house you can always listen to the echoes of the shouting, frustration and conflicts between her eldest teenagers. She was somehow divided by breaking out the arguments, cooking, or following up with schools assignments for the younger ones.

As I approached my teenage years, I turned in to a rebel. And our relationship got even worse. The stricter she became the more we grew apart.

As a teenager I didn’t really care if I missed the school bus, but she did.

I didn’t care if I over ate and got a bit chubby, but she did.

I didn’t care if I dyed my hair red, and looked like one of the insane clown posse, but she did.

As a teenager, I observed what she really cared about and I did the exact opposite.

I used to think, what we had been unfixable. I would consider that we are two different people that happened to live under the same roof. For me she was the woman who brought me to this world.

I often think to myself now, as I became a mother of my own, why do I call her often to take her advice? Why do I ask her to take care of my child while I feel like going out? Why do I ask her to cook for my family when I don’t feel like it? And why did I suddenly forget about our unfixable relationship?

I realize that things change when we get busy living this life. We are human beings and our emotions change often, we make mistakes, we say stuff that we never tend to say at some points, we regret and try to make up for the lost times, especially when we realize that life is short and at any point, we might not make up the time we had with our parents.

Now that I’m in my thirties, I look at my friends who lost one of their parents, I see the pain they feel for what is left unspoken or done. And I realize how privileged I am that my mother is still here. I’m very lucky that I still have her around when I need her. To listen to her memories when she was young, before she got married and had her children. And I see the spark of her eyes light again as I am reminded that she is a human being after all. She didn’t have the burden of life. She lost her self in this Journey.

The only difference between her and me that she didn’t have anyone to rely on when she had us. She juggled between tasks and busy chaotic life, which she never assigned her self in to.

She might not have shown a lot of affection in the past, but she has allowed us to focus on what she has missed before. Which is life.








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