Mother’s Day

During kindergarten and primary school years, when everyone else made cards for mother’s day, I just doodled or made a card for my dad instead.

My mother died when I was just about four. My memories of her are limited to the photographs hung on my wall.

During Mother’s Day, when most people are reflecting on the relationships with their mothers, I am often thinking about what it means to be in that relationship—what it means to have a mother.

Sometimes when my eyes tend to make contact with that photograph/s, it’s really weird. I’m looking at a tall, slender figure, who is my mother.

In photographs before her wedding, I see her stylish side.  In her wedding photos, she looks beautiful. In her photos where she holds a two-year-old me during my birthday, I can feel the warmth and love.

But every time I look at these photos, it’s very weird. Though she is my mother, I really don’t know her. She is still a stranger to me.

Back to reality, when I look around, my cousins and friends bonding, arguing and even fighting with their moms, I just to myself, “Well, this is what it must feel like.”

To be honest, I’m not sad, or ever felt sorry, for not having a mother. Maybe it’s because I never knew her, I never got to know what it feels to be with one. So you can’t really miss what you never had, right?

But deep down, I still think, and sometimes it really bugs me trying to think what it means to have this mother-son relationship.

While I have missed out on this amazing relationship, I have gained motherly love from my grandmother and my aunts. They’re my mother-like figures.

All these years, I’ve celebrated Mother’s Day with them. Though there is always a sense of that “someone” missing, someone for whom the day is dedicated to, it’s good to be amid so many others who I know wouldn’t hesitate adopting me and being my mother.

So I take this opportunity to thank them all. And to all the loving mothers, happy Mother’s Day.

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