With heavy breathing and tears flowing I listened to my mother utter the words on the other end of the phone tonight. I knew it was coming, we all did. But no matter how far reaching my vision into the future has been, I wasn't ready to hear these words.
When I sat next to you in the hospice two months ago, I studied your face. Traced the contours of your hands. Whispered in your ear that I loved you. I asked, "How are you doing Mema?" You answered with faint breath, "Not too bad." I thanked you for your wisdom, support and patience. For your love and strength. Wiped the sweat from your brow with a damp cloth. All the while imagining your life—my God, what it must've been like. How something you did had allowed my mother to seek. And how my mother seeking had led her to find Baha'u'llah. And how finding Him had changed her forever. And how her change had been implanted in me. And how that implanting has blessed me with recognition. And how the blessing of recognizing Him, has ignited in me a love so great it consumes me to tears and aches my chest. You, this one precious soul, have saved my life. I am blessed solely because of you.
I never heard you complain...ever. You never spoke an ill word about anyone. You were ever giving. You are the definition of pure and utter self-effacement and love. You are the purest love and I love you Mema.
No comments:
Post a Comment