Beautiful Mothers

I didnt know. I know you told me, but I was young, I was naive.

When I was young my mom would always tell me, “when you have kids you’ll understand”. Of course at the time I didn’t and it wasn’t until I had a baby daughter that that saying of past became a truth of my present. I guess when we’re young we don’t realize the struggles of our parents. We take them for granted, as if they were born to wipe our shit and spend their life on us. How naive.

Its been almost a year since I had a baby daughter. She was born last September and honestly I don’t know how that year flew by. It was a tornado of things learned, patience taught, and egos broken. I started to understand my mom. I started to feel her pain. Started thinking about all the times I was rotten towards her. I began to realize that being a parent takes immense courage, strength, and love.

I remember all the times I disappointed my mother. Moments where I saw hurt in her eyes. Times when I just walked out, somehow turned my feelings off and acted like a complete fool. It hurts me looking back at some of the things I said and did.

Growing up teaches us how much we took for granted. How many times our mothers stayed awake, sacrificing her sleep, just to feed us. How we etched scars, bruising and blemishing the once youthful glow of our beautiful mothers. The battles they fought, the emotions they repressed. To think about the extraordinary efforts of a mom are humbling. I get this heavy heart, lump-in-my-throat, feeling thinking about how much love my mother filled my life with.

It is because of this that being good to our parents isn’t a favor, its a right. A right that they hold over us. To treat them with regard, with love and care in their old age the way they did for us when we couldn’t even hold up our heads. To be their strength, their friend.

It saddens me when I realize I have been a lousy son. When I know in my heart there is so much more I can do for my mother. So much more love I can give her. Yet, like many of us, life comes in the way. We grow up. We forget.

Not me, not now, not ever. I will never forget all that she did and still does for me. Her ability to love with no strings attached. To think from her heart. To feel others pain. To care, to love. All the best qualities I hold, all because of my mom.

So remember yours. Be her child, her baby. The one she played with for hours. The one who broke her favorite dishes. Love her unconditionally. Deal with her quirks, her ups and downs. Call her, surprise her, and often, think about all she has done for you.

I love you with all my heart my dear Ami*

– Omar M

*(Mom in Urdu) 

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