MY mother was beautiful. She was gracious and generous. She was patient and long-suffering. She was self-sacrificing. She was humble and unassuming. She never cursed. She never complained. She never ranted and raved. She was a gentle creature.
She was everything I am not.
But we shared a love for books, office supplies and housework. We both valued organization, planning and preparedness. She fervently believed in the power of prayer. So do I. She had old-fashioned values but she kept an open mind. That is actually how I would describe myself.
My mother’s finest quality was her capacity to turn the other cheek.
She showed kindness to people who didn’t deserve it. She refused to speak ill of the dead, no matter what harm or hurt they caused her. She didn’t fight back when attacked. She prayed for those who were unkind to her, who spoke ill of her, who stabbed her in the back.
She showed me that turning the other cheek didn’t have to mean having people walk all over you. She showed me that while being just is important, so is being merciful. She showed me that people did not have to deserve kindness and generosity to receive it.
The best gift that my mother ever gave me was her tremendous faith, trust and confidence in me. She trusted me to make the right decisions. She believed in me and in my capacity to solve any problem. She never doubted my capacity to execute any plan or undertake any assignment. She had so much faith and confidence in me and in my ability to do anything that eventually, I began to believe that nothing was beyond me.
My mother gave me the greatest gift any parent can give their child—the gift of empowerment.
My mother taught me to always be prepared. She taught me to make the most of life. She taught me never to feel sorry for myself. She taught me to be strong, to learn to survive on my own. She taught me to believe in myself. Most of all, she taught me not to pray for an easy life but to pray instead for strength and courage.
But I would have to say that my mother’s greatest legacy to me was her boundless love for me. I was not an easy child to raise. She had to put up with so much from me. I was rebellious, outspoken, belligerent. I always spoke my mind without regard for the pain my words would cause others, including my mother. And yet, despite all my faults and failings, my mother still loved me. Till the very end.
There were many difficult moments in the last few months. There were many mornings when I did not want to get up. There were many nights when I cried myself to sleep. But I told myself I must not break. I must not crumble. Mama would expect more from me. I cannot fail her. Because she never failed me.
So in the end, what kept me going was not just my love for my mother, but my mother’s love for me.