Okaasan

‘Maaaaammmmaaaaannnnngggg’ you repeat a few time, your voice imitating mine. It’s a way to show me how annoying I am, I know it. But as I look at you, your kind smile upon me and your warmheartedness envelop my whole being.

Mom … 
I do not hold your hand anymore, now I’m a grown up.
Far away, I hold you always in my heart and mind.

Heart full of anger, I call you.
Heart full of sorrow, I call you.
Heart full of joy, I call you.
You are like a friend, except than friends are like heaven. 
Friends usually agree. ‘Don’t cry, it isn’t your fault, he is an asshole’
Mom, you are not like that, you’re not heaven.
Heart feeling whatever it feels, I call you.
But I don’t call to get confort. 
Mom you are my purgatory. 
I’m not a believer, but I believe in you.
Damaged soul unleashing my feelings.
Silently, you read or listen to my stories.
I never know what you really think.
Your not like other moms.
When I talk about you with friends, they don’t understand.
‘You really can talk about this with your mom?!’
About this can be anything, I call you.
You’re not judging, or maybe you are but you never venture it.

Like that day, do you remember? A friend dragged me back home after a drunk night. I vomited on the carpet and apparently try to clean my mess by spreading it with a sponge, as I fell drunk-asleep in the middle of it, sponge in my hand. Gross. You woke me up gently, and put me in bed, in which I slept for a few more hours. You close the apartment door, that was wide open. You did the best that you could to clean eveything. You prepared an enormous brunch. When I woke up, you didn’t say a word, you waited for me to come back to reality. When I woke up, you gave me an homemade fruit juice, ask me if I was ok and if I needed something for my headache. When we were eating, you asked how was the night, and what happened. Then listened carefully to my black-out story. I didn’t remember anything, but my friend has called to know how I was and report this “heroic” night. 
As I talk, some pieces of the night come back to my mind. You waited until I had nothing left to report, and finally asked :

Why have you drink that much?

You were not that much interested in what happened. You wanted me to understand why it happened. You told me not to worry if I didn’t know yet, or if I had the answer but didn’t want to tell it to you. Letting your gaze upon me, your look betray your heart : you are immensely concerned. Peacefully, you smiled and I hear your voice :

My love, it’s ok. We all make mistakes, you’ve learn about your limit. You are an adult now, I won’t punish you. You already punished yourself by treating your body this way. Try to understand why you acted like this. You don’t have to tell me why, if you don’t want to. But just, try to think about it.

That day, I understood you were not someone to fear, 
But you were someone I could rely on.
We are now too far, for you to take me in your arms when I cry, to prepare me breakfast when I’m hangover, to listen to my vivid voice. 
So, I write you.
So, I call you.

I call you and worried you pick up, as if my life depended on it.
I call you and worried you listen my gloomy voice.
I call you for help or because I want advices, 
Silly me, you are not like other moms.
You don’t give advices, you talk little but you talk truth.

The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.
Joe Klaas, Twelve Steps to Happiness

Sometimes I wonder if I’m looking for comfort when I beg for help.
I know what you will say… or should I know : not say! 
You listen quietely and wait for my never-ending complain to stop.
As soon as I finish I’ve already realized a lot. About myself. 
As soon as I stop I’ve learn already and accepted my responsabilities.
Still wordlessly, you wait until I understand everything I just said.
And then you talk…
You don’t spare me with ‘you are right my dear, he/shi is an asshole’
Neither I spare you : I make you worried, and I am so sorry.
You don’t judge me, or anyone else. I’m not an asshole, neither they are.
You don’t conclude on a situation, you put everything into perspective.
You don’t prevent me to do something ‘don’t go there or don’t do that it’s dangerous’. While sometimes, you let escape a small ‘I don’t like it too much when you fight, I am really worried about you’, but quickly correct it with ‘why are you doing it, what are you looking for in it?’.

Mom, you piss me off when you don’t say that I am right. 
But I know you are more than just a friend who agrees.
Mom, you piss me off when you don’t tell me what I shoud do.
But I know you are more than just a mom who dictates.
Mom, sometimes you piss me off and I let you know.
Mom, sometimes I annoy you and you let me know.

Truth is what has built freedom between us.

You raise me, the best that you could.
Know, that you couldn’t have done better.
It’s already for the best.

We can not talk or see each other for long times.
But it doesn’t matter, there is no rules.
We can be silent or not.
We can talk about lovers.
We can talk about sex!
We can talk about the soup we cooked yesterday.
We can talk about life and death.
We can talk about mistakes we’ve made.
We can talk about suffering, but also about joy.
We can talk and talk until there is nothing else to say, 
Because… we do not fear.
Mom, you are my purgatory in which I know the final judgment : there is none. Because there is no right or wrong, but only experiences. 
Mom, you are my purgatory because you make me a better person.
You stop raising me, now you rise my self above itself.
Making me responsible for my actions.
Making me aware and conscious of the world around me.
You grow me so I can blossom like a flower in spring.
So I can be myself.
Beautiful, simple, authentic and true.

Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.
George Orwell, 1984

You taught me love.
Not the one we see on TV. 
Not the one that let you down and hurted.
Not the one that says ‘amen’ to everything.
Not the one that knows better what’s best for you.
You taught me that love is truth and truth is freedom.
You taught me that we are more than just ourself,
That we need to look at the world with different glasses : 
The truth is that Absolute Truth doesn’t exist, 
It’s always a perspective switch,
It’s about questioning ourself.
We are one with others sentient being. 
We are as responsible as they are.
Maybe this is how you taught me love.
You taught me comprehension, compassion, understanding.
You taught me how to be true, 
Not by telling me what to do, but by letting me be.
You gave me your love,
Not by giving me rules, but by giving me freedom.

Mom, you mean the world to me.

And there is no way on earth I could find a way to express the amount of love I carry in my heart for you.
But I guess I can say one day if ever I’m a mother,
I wish, I’ll be able to pass on your teaching,
I wish, they’ll love me as much as I love you,
Not because I’m craving for attachment or attention,
But because it would mean I did a fucking great job.

Sorry, I know you don’t like it when I say fuck.

Letting go of your hands, to jump in the ocean of my life.
Letting go of your hands, to walk by myself on the path of my dreams.
Letting go of your hands, to be me.
I am free, and so you are, by my side always.