Monday, 5/12/97 Mother’s Day magnifies loving memories, regrets
Holiday inspires reflections on love for deceased mom
By Guesh Cuan Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I was wearing
black. It reminded me of my mom. She hated it whenever I wore black
from head to toe. "Black is not for a young lotus flower like you
(that’s my name)," she used to say. "It’s for grandmothers." In her
hometown in southern China, women wore black when they got older.
But I was always mesmerized by my grandma’s black dress code. I
thought that it was beautiful and reflected the kind of elegance
that only black carried with it. Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I
was wearing black. I was mourning for my mom. She died a slow,
painful death. I wish I could take her place and take the pain. I
wish I could find a miracle way to stop those cells from
multiplying uncontrollably. I wish that she didn’t have to suffer.
I wish that she didn’t have to die. I wish that she didn’t have to
suffer. I wish that she didn’t have to die, I wish that she was
still here, with me, so that I could tell her how much I love her
and how much I wanted to give back for all the love she gave
unconditionally. Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I was holding the
card I gave her last year. I celebrated it for her last year, but
she didn’t celebrate it with me. She was unconscious most of the
time. There was a beautiful flower arrangement on the night stand
next to her hospital bed. I knew she could not see it. I wondered
if she could smell it. I heard that comatose people could still
hear. So I congratulated her and told her that I loved her. I hoped
she heard me. Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I was sitting next to
my mom on the lawn. She is so close yet so far. I brought her
favorite flowers, fruits, rice cake and water. I hope she smelled
the incense and came to me. As I watch the incense burn, I imagine
my mom sitting next to me, enjoying the fruits and the cake and
drinking the water to calm her thirst. There is a song playing in
the back of my head. It’s by my favorite Spanish band, Mecano, and
the song goes something like this: "This cemetery is not like any
other / We the dead ones here always have a good time / Between
flowers of colors / And if we don’t have any plan for Friday night,
then we dress up and we go out and have fun …" I hope that my mom
is having a good time. I hope she goes out on Friday night and has
fun. I hope that she’s living a life of eternal happiness. I know
that you had forgiven me for all that heartache I had given you in
my restless and disobedient years. I wish I had listened more to
your words of wisdom. I wish I hadn’t taken you for granted. I wish
I had learned to appreciate your tender love and care sooner. I
wish I had spent more time with you. I wish I had loved you more. I
wish I had had the chance to show you while you were alive. I guess
your death was yet another lesson you were trying to teach me: to
appreciate those who love you and to love them back. Cuan is a
third-year psychology student.