How I know my mum loved me
Poetry
--
My mum loved me
but it was difficult
for her to
express it in words.
Her parents
never told her
they loved her,
I knew that.
I know she loved me
because
she did all she could
to help me.
Others who said
they loved me
did nothing.
To that my mother
would say,
"Empty words!”
She was right.
People are shallow
and say things that
mean nothing.
I no longer listen to
empty words.
Show me you love me,
then I might believe you.
My mum cared about
my soul.
She introduced me
to God.
She showed me how
to pray.
She modelled purity
and righteousness.
She believed in
the Truth.
She brought me to
prayer meetings
and explained the
mysteries of God to me.
When she became aware
of her own dysfunction,
she sought help.
She learned everything she
could about recovery.
She brought me to those
meetings too.
She shared the literature.
She taught me about
wrong thinking
and the dangers of
unforgiveness.
She taught me
about turning the
other cheek
and the importance of
humility.
I sit here now
in a coffee shop
holding a
book on recovery
she gave to
me over twenty
years ago.
I brought it here to
see should I let it go.
Throw it away.
Maybe I don’t need it now.
I read the first two pages
and I’m surprised
how rich it is.
My mum reached spiritual
perfection.
Not many could see it,
— but I did.
And I will never forget
how lovely she was.
The glory was all over her.
I was overwhelmed.
She had been
transformed
into the image
and likeness
of Christ.
She became
Pure
Radiant
Light.
Letting her go
was the hardest
thing I’ve ever
had to do.
I got through it though,
but not without
deep sadness
and sorrow.
© Orla K.
My life is nothing like my mother's. I made it that way. I didn't want to raise a family and struggle the way she did.
Maybe it was her mindset, but either way, I wasn’t going to take a chance.
I wanted to choose my own path or let my destiny unfold rather than do what I was told.
She had to accept my choices, despite her efforts to get me to follow in her footsteps.
I wish parents would stop pressuring their children to be like them. It’s fine to share values and beliefs, but how their children carry them out is not for parents to decide.
I will always love my mum. I’m grateful for all she did for me, and I look forward to being with her again in eternity.
I did not talk about my mum for many years after she passed away, causing my grief to get stuck. Below are two pieces I wrote in an attempt to convert my grief to mourning.
Every time I write about my mum, it’s another step towards accepting that she is gone, but I will always have the memories.
I read two articles by Paul in the last couple of days and I believe it was this article below that helped me to think about the importance of our relationship with our parents, aunts, and uncles.
And then yesterday, he wrote a beautiful narrative about his mother.
It’s entitled, “Mother Dearest.” A narrative on one of my biggest champions.
Paul is a kind and sensitive writer who has a deep and personal relationship with God.
I recommend you read his work. I’m always moved by the depth of his words.
Thank you, Paul, for inspiring me to write about my dearest Mother too!
