Questa è Enida

After the trainers’ meeting the other day, Suen and Mollie, my new-found sisters, and I sat for almost three hours talking about life. And when Suen mentioned Mollie’s struggle to come to terms with the loss of her Mom, I saw tears in Mollie’s eyes. My heart wept for my own.

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I thought I was over it. Well, I am. I can light candles every Wednesday now, feeling happy for my Mom and where she is now. I can write about her every now and again, feeling a relief that she is resting in peace, waiting for us. I can look at her pictures and smile back at her, feeling the contentment that I was given 36 years to be with a great woman.

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But what do I do with myself when I long for a mother’s touch? It’s like I have been sitting on a chair that has no back. I can’t sit back. There’s nothing to lean against. Let alone to lean on. And I’m not able to get up. To move on. I can light 7 candles every Wednesday for the next 36 years if I live that long. But this last few years of not having my Mom… is taking away the life in me.

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But when I got the emergency news this morning concerning the father of someone who has grown close to me – I was awaken from my slow death. And like a train that had been on a wrong track, I shifted directions. While that someone is taking care of his beloved father, I shall be gone to love mine. And when I kiss my dad’s hand tonight, I should apologize for being too dead to see. He’s still there for me.

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