I think you can really tell when you miss someone by the amount of times they find their way into your mind, or the number of times you seem to mention them on the daily. I find myself telling others all the time that my mother is an artist, she's a painter, she's a dreamer, she's the most thoughtful, the most kind-hearted human being I have ever met. Sometimes we find ourselves trying to explain the complexity of relationships, but it's really that simple. It's love. I love to love, and my friend told me today, that though his father passed away they pass something down to you 身份 “identity" meaning that there are things that you're just born with. I feel as though I'm lucky enough to be born with my mother's dreamer-esque and creative mind, and fortunate enough to be loved by the kindest woman in the world and to love as she loves.
Of course, mothers nag, they try to teach you everything they know, which I will admit has really come in handy many times. But as a mother, the greatest gift she has given me is showing me how to love not just your own, but all people and things. To appreciate all living things, flowers, animals, people, ideas, and to be kind as it's a natural thing for us to be.
I was a difficult teenager, feeling lost at times even through college with what to do--"Follow your passion" my mom always said, and I grew tired of hearing this phrase because it felt like my passions weren't good enough for the "real-world," or there were still so many uncertainties. Everything I did, my mom would try to help and push me to continue to explore these things. And I wouldn't because I thought perhaps I'd fail, and I'd rather not succeed at all, then by trying and then failing. But failure is all just relative after all. There are always going to be different ways of looking at any situation, and knowing how to love and appreciate things however small makes everything a success.
I did those things I loved, that felt natural to me, and eventually they started piecing together. These things included spending time with my grandparents, my family, taking photos whenever I could--not to try and capture the moment, but because I think the most beautiful thing about photographs is the way they bring you back to that moment, to that place, to that feeling. And whether the feeling is sad, nostalgic, elation, uncertainty, or any other things, that feeling is pure. Photographs are pure. They're similar to Harry Potter's Magical Mirror, where even though it looks the same to the naked eye, the feelings that are instilled in each individual is different. Photographs are free for anyone to interpret at their own free will, and for every individual to feel as they please--hopefully discovering something new about yourself. These are my thoughts on photographs, but without her support I am not sure I would have felt as comfortable snapping photos all the time.
My mother (and father) have never once raised her voice or hand to me in my 25 years, even when I was trying to break my bed out of anger (This is when I was a prepubescent youth..and it only happened maybe twice). I still remember that night where she just went downstairs, and brought me a glass of milk, while my dad sat with me watching his rabid daughter try to break out of her cage slash side bed guard since she would frequent falling off the bed in sleep. My mother told me it was okay to be angry and to let it out. (I mean who does that... it's just... so... patient, loving? kind? wtf all the nicest things you can imagine please insert here.) My mother's also quirky, she loves sparkles, sometimes participates in what some may call weird social habits...for example while I was in court getting my first traffic ticket (I've only ever had 2 okay), she spent her time doing a 5 minute sketch of the judge, and before we left, she ran up to the judge and dropped off her picture with a simple "Here you go! thanks so much!" I remember being so embarrassed and infuriated at the time, but looking back on it now I'm filled with so much joy and humour for how sweet and pure of a woman she is. I am so proud of my mother, and so grateful for way she has shown me how wonderful life is being comfortable in your own skin. Thank you mabu. Wishing you all are lucky enough to feel this type of pure love.
Here are some photos from last summer, where she spent hours making the perfect head wreath 24 hours with me before Nika and I ventured off to Paradiso :)