Remembering Mom

Mom, I remember being upset with you. I remember your extreme moods. I remember questioning your motivations. I remember you being angry. I remember you being disillusioned. I remember you being unhappy. I remember you being tough with me and everyone around you. I remember your disciplinary mindset. I remember your idealism. I remember the tears. I remember the dysfunction you seemingly created. I remember your loud voice. I remember the fight you had in you till the very last minute of your breath.

Mom, you were not the loving and forgiving martyr. You were a fighter. You were questioned but you didn't stop. You heatedly protested the wrong. You wholeheartedly condemned the bias. You fought your brothers for your education. You fought your unruly male colleagues at work. You fought the society around you who wanted to box you. You were fighting so many battles at once and all the time. You were fighting alone all the time. 

Mom, you were fair and unbiased in all your relationships. You didn't side with a sister or a brother. You didn't even side with your own children. You never ever compared one with the other. You never gossiped. You never cried foul. You were always direct. You were fair and expected fairness in return. The disillusionment  came when the fairness wasn't returned. The anger and the fight followed the disillusionment. And since life is not fair, it happened too often. 

Mom, I do remember the moments when you showed your softer side. I remember sleeping on your belly as a child. I remember your sense of humor. I remember you sharing the stories of our childhood. I remember your appreciation for the sunlight. I remember your obsession with raw vegetables. I remember your shoe collection. I remember your nephews and nieces in awe of you and in love with you. I remember the inspiration you were to the next generation in the family.

Mom, I don't think I ever fully understood you while you were around. I regret that we didn't talk enough about why you were the way you were. What was bothering you in a given moment? If I could figure out a way to stop the source of your disillusionment. If I could fight your battles with you. If I could just have another moment to tell you that I have started to understand you. I have started to understand you because I have started to understand myself.

Mom, the interesting thing is that the battles are the same. And I fight these every so often. I have felt disillusioned. I have felt angry. I have felt unhappy. I think I have felt just like you. But unlike you I have your battle scars to learn from. And I live in world that allows me to lean in. You were never allowed. You never had anyone to lean on. But, you kept going on.

Mom, you were way ahead of your time.