|My mother in year 1966|
I was born in a simple family from a talented active mother.
My mother used to work as a primary teacher. Teaching was her life. After years of teaching she then became the princlipal of one of the primary schools in my home town.
She loved her job, even after she retired she was still teaching at pre-school nearby our house.
So dedicated to her profession, sometimes I wish I could be like her.
Not only teaching her students, she was also active in some organizations. When I was a little girl I used to see her got dressed, getting prepared to go to her activities.
Blend with people and brought her cheerfulness, deliver her ideas in the form of straight forward sentences, my mother was such an inspiration.
One of the most memorable things locked in my mind still was her poem book.
She was great in writing, she wrote countless of poems (perhaps undetected and numerous works when she was a teenager too).
I could still recall her poem book, it was just a normal hard cover brown agenda but it was such a beautiful scene to see her writing on that book. There was a unexplainable things in her ways moving her pen, her serious expression, as if she forgot the world for a moment and other people needed to wait until she finished. It felt like she was building the transparent walls surround her and I knew those walls were unbreakable.
I learn about the word discipline from my mother. She was indeed THE role model.
One small example, every morning she woke up at 5 AM, prayed and she did sport.
So when it was dealing with education, she was very strict.
In Indonesia we have the ranking system at school. There are Top 10 students every semester and both my parents were always trying to keep my brother, my sisters and I on the track.
Frankly spoken, I was not always on the Top 10, only a few times. It was quite hard times and very competitive. Many times I had guilty conscience because I couldn't be a part of the Top 10.
I felt like I couldn't make my mother proud of me.
Only one day I felt that I finally made her happy.
It was the day during high school times, the school had annouced that I was a part of the elected students that could go to certain universities directly without any test. It felt so great to made my mother happy. Although I finally decided not to go on with that programme because I have other choices, she couldn't stop to talk about this to her friends, colleages, also to our relatives.
It was hard to believe that the moment when my family took me to the airport, the moment before I moved to Switzerland was the last day when I saw her. Even until now it felt so surreal.
I wanted to visit my family in October 2008 but she passed away already in April the same year.
The dream to finally see my mother ripped from my thought. Couldn't even forget on that day when I picked up the phone and heard my sister crying, she was hardly could speak.
I have lost the toughest strongest woman I have ever known in my life.
So hard and sad to visit your home town because your mother passed away.
After the long flights from Zurich, I finally landed in my home town. My sisters and I got out of the car. My brother in-law helped us with the suitcases so we just rushed out.
My father walked slowly towards us. That moment I can never forget.
I saw his shoulders looked smaller, as if the loneliness pushed and pressed them.
At that moment I realized that I won't be able to see my mother walk hand in hand with him again.
I felt that I was about to faint at that time.
My conscienceness, my mind, my senses, my sanity...
Everything fell down and nothing has left inside.
On the day after Rania was born, after the tough moments for me (as I have written here) I dreamed of my mother that night. In my dream I saw her came and she smiled at me, but she didn't say anything. I woke up and found myself still on the hospital bed, weak and in pain.
Only tears came out from my eyes.
The fact that I found out afterwards is, that Rania has also my mother's gestures and her face.
It made me so happy.
I have to admit, on Mother's Day usually I cry on early morning like now.
Whilst many people have plans to meet their mothers, I have no one to go to.
I cannot even make a telephone call to her. I couldn't see her before the funeral and even to touch the soil where she is buried I cannot do it now.
How lucky and blessed the people who still have mother.
Once in a year we are remembering and celebrating Mother's Day.
A day where all of the strunggles from a mother in the form of blood, sweat, lack of sleep, fatigue, tears, even until debt are highly appreciated.
Until now I still cannot say I am the best mother for my daughter. I am lacking in many ways.
I am not even as good as half of what my mother had done.
I am still struggling to be the good one. The term 'easy' is out of my list since the beginning.
But there are things that I am proud of, being the mother of my beautiful smart daughter.
Just to have the chance to be her mother is such a bless, no mother could describe this in sentences.
I just feel it, the beauty of it. Overwhelming and wonderful at the same time.
Another thing that I am proud of, to be born and raised from a great mother.
If it's not because of her, perhaps I wouldn't be as I am now.
The woman who had taught me to have good handwriting, to keep writing and compose my own stories. She told me to keep studying, set the goal and reach them. She was my role model for being a working mother, but never forget to love the family.
She raised me but she gave me the chance to choose what I wanted to do.
She loved me in her special way and I feel it in the air that I breathe.
She, my mother.