Be present, be here!

 

  An ode to my Mama

I could have loved you, Mommy. But I never got the chance. Now I can only love what could have been. An idea, an abstract based on the memories of those who knew you. I can only love the thought that you loved me so dearly.

I can only love the mother I know you would have been to me. The mother you were to the others. I wish I knew what love was back then. I would have told you that I loved you and I couldn’t wait to see you when I got back.

They say I look like you. Some even say I sound like you. What I would give to remember what you sound like. What I would give to sing with you again. What I would give to get a chance to tell you I love you.

I miss you, mama. I miss what could have been. I miss the conversation we would have had. I miss the bond we would have shared. I miss the mother I never got to know. 

I miss you.

The last time I wrote about my mother, the ode was at the bottom, but today I’ve decided to lead with it because my post is centered around it. If you are reading this on the day I posted it, it’s Mother’s Day, and I am simply lying in my bed and sad. Every year on Mother’s Day, it hits me that my mother is dead. Every year on this day, it’s like I realize that actually the person who carried me around for 9 months is dead and gone, and it always hits me like a tonne of bricks that she is gone and has been gone for a long time now.

A couple of weeks ago, I was telling a friend of mine that I missed my mom and I wanted her. I was going on about how I never got to know her because she was gone too soon, and my friend asked, “So what exactly do you miss?” Dear reader, this was a difficult question to answer because I have nothing to miss but what could have been. Everything I miss is something that someone else told me or something I wish could be happening. Take, for example, today, I wish I could have taken her out for lunch just the two of us. This never happened, but I miss it.

This always makes me think about all the things I miss, not because they happened, but because they could have happened, but they didn’t. With my mother, that opportunity is gone and I will always miss what could have been, but what about the people I have around me now? Am I waiting to miss what could have been when they go, or am I making things happen so that I actually have memories when they go?

Last week, I got news of the death of someone whom I had been meaning to visit for the past year. I kept convincing myself that I had time and I would make time to go and see her. She didn’t even know I was in the country, and now she will never know. She didn’t know that my encounter with her was so beautiful that I wanted to have more such encounters, and now she will never know. She didn’t know I intended to visit her and kept procrastinating, and now she will never know.

As I write this, I am thinking of all the words that go unsaid, all the love that goes unshared, and all the promises that go unfulfilled just because we assume there is time and we’ll get to it. We are so busy doing things and going from one place to another that we forget the moments. We forget how beautiful it is to be with each other and to create memories that last a lifetime, memories that live on way after we are gone. 

We do not have the time we think we have. The time to love is now. The time to say the unsaid words is now. The time to visit that person is now. The time to send that text or make that call is now. Be present, be here while you’re still here. Be here while they are still here. Don’t wait for that dreaded call telling you they are gone. Love them now and tell them. Experience them now and spend time with them. When the time comes and they leave this earth, you will have been a part of their lives and they yours. It will hurt that they are gone, but you will always have the memories.