MUM STORIES: Mother’s Day stirred up bittersweet memories

She was the kind of mother who would cook two packets of chapatti and say: “Only eat what you can. Tomorrow is another day (in other words, eat one).” PHOTO | FILE| NATION MEDIA GROUP

What you need to know:

  • I have these moments when I’m sitting alone, feeling depressed.
  • Those are often my moments of weakness when something stirs the ghosts of my mom and for some reason, everything I care about loses meaning. In those moments, I can’t function at all.
  • There are times those moments catch me right when I’m trying to beat the deadline and I just stop punching the keyboard and sit there thinking of her.
  • Mum always said that people don’t die. They simply live their physical bodies to be closer to our souls.

I never wanted to write about grief. At least, not here. Not when the world was celebrating Mother’s Day. But ever since I earned the title writer, many believe that I can write about anything under the sun. But they do not know just how difficult it is to write about personal grief.

I feel no rhythm in my grief from the death of my mother eight years ago, but I choose to live in a bubble from which I see my altered world, where outside the bubble is a world of noise, inside is silence and muted sounds.

Deborah Davidson, a professor of sociology at York University who specialises in motherhood and bereavement, says grief is often intensified around anniversaries and important dates.

“Mother’s Day especially can elicit strong emotions,” Davidson says. “Grief is not something people generally get over, but learn to live with it in meaningful ways, and learn to incorporate it into their lives.”

NOT MOURNING ON MOTHER’S DAY

That probably explains why on Mother’s Day, I was not mourning. It is not that the tears have stopped flowing. As a matter of fact, when grief hits, the bubble bursts and sadness invades my head. My eyes still well up at memories of losing mum, but I am slowly learning to have the courage to stop them from rolling down my cheeks.

It remains confusing, lonely and downright depressing. All I wanted to do was to bury myself under a rock and pretend that Mother’s Day didn’t exist.

I have these moments when I’m sitting alone, feeling depressed. Those are often my moments of weakness when something stirs the ghosts of my mom and for some reason, everything I care about loses meaning. In those moments, I can’t function at all.

There are times those moments catch me right when I’m trying to beat the deadline and I just stop punching the keyboard and sit there thinking of her.

Mum always said that people don’t die. They simply live their physical bodies to be closer to our souls. I have hung onto that belief since 2009. And I think she knows what’s been going on in my life. Sometimes I wish mum were here to tell me what to do because she always had answers.

Today I move blindly, making decisions that, in my naivety, I believe are right, hoping that through them I don’t knock my head.

Mother's Day, and the lead-up to it, stirred up painful emotions, for I always thought that moms should live forever. If these memories I have of mum are anything to go by, then my naïve belief that moms should be immortal is still strong.

I mean, it is only a mother who in her cleaning and dusting, you would also hear her fussing and whining about how we just can’t keep things where they belong: “Merab, I’m tired of picking after you! Next time you will see the street boy across the road in this jacket if you can’t stow it where it should be.”

She was the kind of mother who would (even in our adult life) clean our clothes and say: “Today, you have to pay me for cleaning these jeans.” So I would take out a crisp Sh200 note and give it to her. I knew I would find it under my pillow when I went to bed at night.

And the mother who would cook two packets of chapatti and say: “Only eat what you can. Tomorrow is another day (in other words, eat one).”

For the first time in eight years, I have gathered the courage. For the first time, I have grown the thick skin to share mum with the world.

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