my mother

Recently, our family lost a loved one, my grandfather’s brother. The loss of someone always makes me ponder my own mortality. While we will all pass on one day, the unknown remains the “when.” For my grandfather’s brother, it was rather much too soon after learning he had cancer far too late.

The phone rang on Sunday morning. My father answered the phone. I heard the words “I’m so sorry,” and “Now, he no longer needs to suffer.” It was my grandfather. His brother had passed away. Immediately upon hearing the news from my father, my mother stopped what she was doing in the kitchen, packaged up some potatoes with peppers and onions she had been preparing to make an omelet with and drove to comfort her father. My grandmother had not been home at the time, therefore, it was only my grandfather when my mother had arrived. My grandfather hadn’t eaten breakfast and continued to say he wasn’t hungry. My mother ignored him and made him an omelette with the potatoes she had been preparing earlier. My grandfather ate everything as he talked and shed tears with my mother by his side.

When my mother arrived back home, I had just finished eating breakfast and listened to her share with me how he was doing. To hear and imagine how sad my grandfather was and to think about my mother’s immediate response to drive to her parents’ house to see him caused my heart to overflow with both sadness and admiration, and the only response I could give were tears without words.

Since moving back home, I have had my fair share of differences with my mother. But, it is a moment such as the one I describe to you above that instantly reminds me of the amazing and most selfless person that she is every day. People who know me often say I am just like my mom. And I usually think, “When did I become my mother?” “Did this transformation creep up on me or was it always there?” I think the answer may be that it was always there. When I was younger I often took offense to someone telling me I was just like my mother. Now, I feel honored and often reply with, “She thinks and does way more for others than me with the difference being that she usually does not complain.” While I don’t think I am ready to tell her this just yet, I do proudly admit that I am my mother’s daughter.

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Also, as a follow-up to my last post, my angel food cake turned out well! It was yummy, especially with the delicate pieces of chocolate folded into the batter. You can find the recipe here. I did not make the chocolate glaze, and instead ate it plain with fresh-cut strawberries. The strawberries were a perfect addition!


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