What you need to do while your parents are alive.
– I often kiss my mother’s handwritten notebook, her glasses, a pleasant to the touch small purse, a phone with worn buttons. Why kiss? Do not know. Need. I really want to touch everything that she touched. A year and a half has passed since my mother left, left quietly, in a dream, without giving me any worries, she always took care of me. Now I confess that until my mother was completely calm in another world, in that life where the sun was still shining for her, I rarely hugged her and almost never said how much I loved. But mom won’t hear about it.
Was it too late for me to realize this? No. To be honest, I do not engage in self-criticism and do not blame myself for almost anything. I reasonably understand that everyone has their own life, and at that time I would not have stopped everyday life in order to sit down with my mother for a couple of minutes longer. Do you know in which case something could change? If mom came back. She came back and said: “I will live with you for another 50 years and I will be there.” Everything would have changed … to blissful tears, to life-giving hysteria … I would furiously devote myself to my mother … for the first six months … and then again I would run to “live my life.”
If you disagree with me and are ready to change now, then listen to what I will tell you and tell you.
Once my mother and I were alone at the dacha. It was a warm spring evening. The carefree birds chirped their amorous songs, the blossoming garden rustled with foliage and praised the future harvest, frivolous crickets chirped playfully and endlessly scurried about combing the coquettish young grass. Mom sat on the porch and looked into the distance. And for a long time I looked at her very lonely back: “Mom, what are you looking out for in the dark?” “I poured milk for the hedgehog, I’m waiting for him to come,” my mother replied in an ordinary way. Forgive me for my sentimentality, my soul silently burst into tears and turned off all natural hubbub with an inner howl. At that moment, I somehow clearly understood that mothers are always waiting! Sitting on the doorstep, they wait patiently, quietly, unobtrusively, they wait day and night. Hurry to your mothers more often!
If mom calls you out for dinner, run to her! Know that when she was making pies, baking pancakes, rolling stuffed cabbage rolls, she thought about you and only about you. To feed, warm up, take all the pain of the child upon yourself is an unshakable maternal need. A mother can be happy only when her child is “full” in everything. Talk to her until you get tired, eat until your belly is full, accept a hundred scarves knitted by her. Give your mother the opportunity to be happy! Accept her love in full, do not be lazy to be grateful.
As it is now fashionable to say – “yazhmat”. In short, I am also a mother. My son has a personal life, he lives with a girl separately from me, and he rarely visits me. He is laconic, harsh as a man, sometimes categorical and even rude. I try not to disturb him once again with my concern, but dinner is always ready for him – he will suddenly come running. The other day I dropped in for a few minutes, rustled with my things, grabbed something and was ready to run on. Suddenly he froze at the threshold and, looking somewhere deep into me, said: “Mom, I miss you very much.” And he hugged … I don’t know how long we stood like that: 20 seconds or 22 and a half … Tears are rolling in me even now. It seems to me that parents carry such moments in their memory all their lives. Hug mothers.
When my mother lay at home for a day and priests walked around her, reading the psalter (as my mother asked during her lifetime), I looked steadily at her crossed arms. On those hopeless days, I recalled how, in my youth, I read Oleg Koshevoy’s monologue from the novel Young Guard, Mother’s Hands, at literary Olympiads: and as warm and cool as they stroked my hair … I kiss your clean, holy hands! .. “I always cried, reading this long monologue, the audience cried too. What can I say? Hurry up to kiss your mother’s still warm hands.
After my mother left, my phobia worsened, I can’t look at the old people. All their pain is in sight. I will not tell all the stories, here is one of the last. In the middle of the street, a lump of an elderly woman was patiently trying to bandage a torn bag with a blanket falling out of it. Help came in handy. With my grandmother, who turned out to be 82 years old, we packed everything up and walked slowly to the bus stop. We started talking. She has three sons, each with his own tragic and complex story of life, she feels sorry for everyone. She bought a blanket for her great-grandson. Grandma believes and expects that the whole family will soon come to see her, and at the same time they will take the blanket … She also looked at the counter where she would buy expensive tasty fish for 82 rubles to treat her long-awaited sons and five grandchildren. I don’t know what to add. Buy your mom all the markets in the world so that she doesn’t need! By the way, my beloved mother-in-law also has three sons … Well, you understand …
Do you know what the disharmony is after the parents leave? The fact that the phrases “I rarely did” and “would do more often” no longer make any sense.
Now I come to my mother, like to a temple. With my problems and concerns, I tell you how life goes on, I ask her for help and find answers. I catch myself thinking that conversations with my mother are like prayers to the Almighty. I feel that my mother still protects and helps me. And now, more than ever, I realize that there is never too much love for mothers.