TIMES like these, I’m glad my mother is no longer with us — at least, not in this life here on Earth. Because she would have been terrified of what’s going on in the world right now. Yes, my mother had the anxiety gene too. Yet, funnily, she was “the chill” parent. My father still reigns as anxiety king.
We’ve had dreams of my mother during this pandemic. I have a hunch why. The night I dreamt of her was the night I was thinking about how long I had not been to her grave site. I remember telling my mother right before I closed my eyes that night, “I’m sorry, Ma, that it’s been so long since we’ve visited.”
Truth to tell, it doesn’t really bother me — because I know my mother is not really there. But I know it would have bothered my mother and if you love someone and know that something bothers them, that something bothers you too.
What bothers me more is the possible state of her grave site. I am sure it is not in pristine state — as she would have wanted. When this quarantine ends, you know where to find me. I’m not sure if visiting a grave site is considered an “essential” activity.
But I’m the kind of person who believes that I don’t have to be in the same physical space as someone to be with them.
I feel the presence of my mother every day in my life. So while the closest I could actually get to occupying the same physical space with her would be at her grave site, I don’t really feel I need to be there to be with her.
I talk to her. Often. She is in my thoughts. Every day. She is in my heart. At every moment.
My father also dreamt of my mother. And I think it is because he longs for her. She was always his haven, his anchor, his rock. And during these uncertain times, I think he longs for her reassuring words — the ones I cannot give. Because I am blunt. I am brutal. And I am not my mother.
Perhaps it is true that you look for and find in a significant other what you cannot find in yourself. And my father found in my mother, while she was alive, everything that he could not find in himself. Without her, he must feel lost. And yet, he thrives.
It is in such unexpected ways that my father gives me strength to survive and my mother continues to guide.
I know my mother is with me. Still. Among the many gifts she left me with, the most valuable is belief in the power of prayer. And so I continue to pray that we prevail.
Times like these, I’m glad my mother is no longer with us. She no longer needs to worry or fear. But in some self-serving way, I also find comfort in the thought that my mightiest prayer warrior now sits in the same table as my Creator.
A grave site is a marker to honor the memory of a person you love but the memory of the person you love resides in your heart. Forever.
Happy Mother’s Day, Ma!