It's the same ritual every week on a Friday. I choose to go on a Friday because it's the day she died. I look forward to it as if I were going to see her face-to-face. Some people would argue that it's stupid going to the cemetery because her only remains are in the coffin.
I argue that though I have no doubt that her soul is in heaven, I feel a sense of reverence, even if by now all that's left of her is bones. The sense of peace never leaves me as I lay the flowers on her grave. It's funny how I cannot remember anything except for the past year before she died: the medical results, the way I cried non-stop when I learnt she was terminally ill, and the way I acted to hide the seriousness of her illness.
God, I loved her. She was simply everything to me. My mother, my sister, my soulmate. We laughed at the same things and we cried at the same things.
On Mother's Day I wonder about all those parents/sons/daughters who are not on speaking terms and probably haven't been for years. How could they let this dismal kind of separation linger?
True, no mother is entirely perfect and some mothers do have a habit of being bossy even if her loved ones are grown up and married. But a mother is always a mother.
Most mothers do their utmost for their children. Even before birth, there's an infinite love between mother and child. A mother who clothes you, feeds you, has tears running down her cheeks on your first day at school, smiles and cries at the same time when you say 'Mama' for the first time, and is always there for you, willing to listen to your stories.
How can elderly mothers be forgotten in nursing homes? How is it possible that people find it so difficult to visit their ailing mother in hospital? Why do some people forget a mother's love, an emotion that is second to none in the world?
As I write this, tears fill my eyes. This year there won't be any presents for Mum except for a flowered heart. Her name was Iris. I bought her flowers for Mother's Day once and although she always looked pleased, I distinctly remember seeing a small frown that time, before she quickly hid it. Months later I asked her if she liked the flowers and she smiled her wonderful smile and whispered: "I appreciate your thought, but please bring me flowers when I'm dead, not alive".
I do it every week, Mum, it doesn't have to be Mother's Day. As long as I live and as long as I have strength, the mother I deeply adored, who was my tower of strength through hard times, will always have flowers on her grave.
Forget your quarrels and disagreements. We all have only one mother. Don't wait till she's gone to show how much you love her. Do it now before it's too late. Mum, you always did have my undying love and you always will. Rest in peace till we meet again.