#Motherhood - ReviveRoots

Ending the Inheritance of silence

I faintly remember a time when my mother’s jewellery was taken and invested in the family business—an investment that never returned and eventually dissolved. Perhaps I was too young to fully understand it then, but the memory stayed. Now, I understand that when the dignity of the women in a home is compromised, the cost is often far greater than what we see on the surface.

I silently worked harder, and key reason was to give my parents a better life and buy jewellery for my mother. When I finally felt I had saved enough to buy her something, she had no desire to wear such things. Perhaps she might have wanted them in the past—but in truth, she never really had a fascination for it. Somewhere, she only wanted it for her daughters, for our future, for our marriages.

When I was finally in a position to buy something for her, she had lost interest and instead insisted on buying things for me.

This brings me to what I’ve been reflecting on lately. For the past few years, I’ve wanted to travel to certain destinations, but due to several challenges, I couldn’t. Now that I finally have the freedom and approval at home to travel, it feels somewhat meaningless.

I feel that if I am to spend 5–6 days of my time, it should be meaningful. For the past 10 years, writing has been my inner calling, and it has deepened even more after everything with my mother. I now feel drawn toward a writing retreat—something that adds value, perhaps a workshop or program that contributes to my growth—rather than just travel.

Recently, I did go on a trip. When I reflect on it, I had an incredible time and entered a very introspective space. That journey gave me room to think about self-development, and perhaps I should travel for liesure once in a while. But right now, what feels like a priority is nurturing my growth, evolving, and building my skill set in this fast-changing world.

Is this why I feel these mixed emotions—that I was unable to have what I once longed for, and now, when it is within reach, it feels meaningless? Or is this a reflection of how I have evolved over time? Or perhaps, is this an opportunity for me to break the pattern of generational setbacks that my mother/grandmother and those before them may have experienced? A question worth pondering.

Adversity to Triumph : Mother’s Enduring Love

As I reflect on my life and the profound impact my mother had on it, I am overwhelmed by a mix of grief, gratitude, and awe. Today, I want to share a story that’s etched deeply in my heart—one that speaks of resilience, sacrifice, and an enduring bond that defied all odds.

On my very first birthday, my mother was in the hospital undergoing a crucial operation. Despite her own suffering and the uncertain future, she ensured that I wore a new dress for my special day. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a symbol of her undying love and her refusal to let her own trials overshadow my joy. Given the circumstances, she understood there might be no one else to celebrate my birthday at home. It was a gesture of hope and defiance against the adversity that surrounded us.

From the moment I came into this world, my mother’s life was marked by hardships. My grandmother had initially rejected me because I was not the grandson she had hoped for. Such rejection could have been a blow to anyone’s spirit, but my mother faced it with an unbreakable resolve.

Soon after my birth, I fell gravely ill. Doctors gave up hope, stating that my survival was unlikely. Yet, my mother’s faith never wavered. She clung to hope with a tenacity that seemed almost supernatural. She prayed fervently, undertook austerities, and observed fasts, never giving up on me, even when the medical community had written me off.

The Lord had a plan, and that plan was to give us years together that we would come to cherish. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been raised by the strongest woman in the universe—a woman who, despite the rejections and adversities, embraced me with a mother’s love and dedicated her life to my well-being. She sacrificed her comfort, her health, and her own dreams to provide me with education, nourishment, and the values that shaped me.

For 38 years, my mother endured unimaginable suffering and torment. It was only in July 2010 that our lives began to shift dramatically. I remember walking out of our home with the thrilling news of securing a job at PwC, a job that promised a salary that was merely a dream. Her astonishment and joy were palpable. “Really?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief and pride. That evening marked the beginning of a new chapter for us, a period of gradual improvement and transformation in our lives.

Yet, as I now grapple with the pain of her loss, the last 38 days of her life resonate with an almost unbearable intensity. Her final days were marked by immense suffering. On a ventilator, with her legs and hands restrained, her body was swelling and oozing—each detail of her condition a vivid reminder of her torment. Despite her excruciating suffering, she was more concerned about the expenses of her treatment than her own pain. Her selflessness in those moments was a profound lesson in compassion.

In reflecting on her life, I am struck by a series of poignant coincidences. I was born on a Friday, and she departed on a Friday. I came into this world on the 27th, and she left us on the 27th. These details, though small, seem to underscore the deep connection we shared.

In the end, I am left with a heart full of gratitude and sorrow, and a profound respect for the woman who, despite her own suffering, gave me everything.

Through everything, my mother taught me an invaluable lesson: Never lose hope. As long as there is life, there is hope. Her life was a testament to enduring strength and selfless love. The pain of losing her is immense, and the grief is profound, but the lessons she imparted continue to guide me. Her life was one of relentless courage, and her legacy is a beacon of hope that will forever light my path.