Mother.

My mother just sent me an e-mail saying that she was recently released from the hospital after experiencing a mild stroke. I never realized how close Death and how real mortality is until an encounter is experienced by a loved one. It's a strange feeling when one realizes the inevitable transience of life... For a moment, my head felt high. My mind felt numb. My body tingled as if it had fallen asleep. Is it what they call disbelief? Doubt?

After the initial shock, my mind goes back to doubting death. It goes back to hoping, perhaps even silently pleading. It's not a sharp pain or even excruciating. It's a dull, mind grinding pain. It's like a sort of pain that one should get used to and be able to ignore after some time... but one never does. It feels as if you're on the cliffhanger waiting for impending doom to occur. Yet you still hope for the best. Even pessimists hope.

After the doubt, my mind cycles back to the reality of the matter. What will happen next? What if something much worse happens? Who will take care of my family? Who will take care of my little sister? I'm in a totally different country, a totally different continent. What can I do? Why am I so helpless? Who will hold the family together? My mother was the one that held us together even when she wasn't physically there. Yes, at times we dreaded the gravitational pull she had on us, but subconsciously I knew... I knew that it was home. Where my heart was, where she was, it was home. No matter how much I wanted to prove my independence, to show that I could survive without her, without any of my family, I still wish for them to be by my side nonetheless.

I'm not emotionally close to my mother. I love her and respect her, but I stopped telling her I loved her when I was around 11 years old. At that point, I thought that sort of love was implied. I believed that it didn't need to be said. In the past I've thought of how my parents' passing is inevitable. I thought of how I should, how I must, savor every moment I have left with them. My mother's face will be preserved in pictures, but her voice, her warmth, her presence will certainly fade. Once my parents are gone, the world will truly be uncertain as my generation, as I, will have to completely reign over life and guide it with the voice left by what will soon pass.