I think what astounds me the most is although she has taught me so much, I struggle every day to be like her; to be a better person.
She is forgiving; I am not.
There have been some atrocities that have been done to my mother in the past and I know about them and who did them. She has forgiven them and yet I detest them. I will never forgive them and I have zero intentions to rectify those relationships.
She has over-come so much. Many (who have gone through much less) use their pasts as crutches as to why or how the world has done them wrong and it's at the root of all their current misfortune, poor choices, and short-comings. I often fail to empathize with these people because I think "If my mother could have done it, why couldn't you?"
She is able to move forward; I cannot forget the past.
I hold on to both good and bad things that have happened so tightly and I really cannot understand why I'm always so terrified to let go. I often feel that they make up a part of me and if I forget them, move on or let go, that I will be losing those parts of myself forever.
My mother has let go of many things and yet she remains whole. I see her lead by example and yet I cannot take that leap of faith.
After everything, she still has her faith. I lose mine on a daily basis. I see my faith more like genetic trait. I will not fight it and I will surely pass it down to my children, but I have no passion about it. I do believe, but I'm often angry with God.
My mother may be divine, but she is no saint. She has a fantastic sense of humor and whether she wants to admit it or not, it's one of the few qualities I did manage to get from her. Don't try to fight it, Ma, you're good and warped... and that is why you are so incredible to me.
You are my hero, my best friend and I love you.
This post is aligned with One Wee Voice: International Women's Day