My Mom, My Hero

I think that most normal people love their mothers. I think that the majority of these people have good relationships with them and admire many of their character traits. Few people I know have the kind of relationships that I do with my mom. With small lapses when either one of us was out of town, my mom and I spoke every day, usually twice a day, sometimes 8 times a day. I could trust my mom with anything. I often didn't because I didn't want her to worry an extra time. By doing that I worried her even more, as I realize now. After finding out about my mom's sickness at a ripe age of twelve, I set myself a goal - my wellbeing is one less thing my parents have to worry about. I did well in school, I chose my own schools, I worked since age 15. Overall, with a few growing pains, I was a good kid. Yes, mama was worried about wrong crowds, drugs, late nights, but which normal parent isn't? Besides the late nights or early mornings, as my mom called them; a few bad seeds that I never called friends and quickly got discarded, she was happy with how I turned out. Mama raised me well - I know how to read and write in two languages (product of immigration, but my mom was always the go to person for any help with russian vocabulary when playing "balda," "goroda" or "pasochki"), I have a strong respect for the arts and an even stronger respect for people, I could set the table and cook a meal (although the golubtzi and borscht are two recipes that will take me years to recreate). She taught me the values of hard work, the importance of family and the necessity in always remaining human, or rather humane. She knew my harships, she faced many more. I know that my mom was extremely proud of me and the wow that I took at age 12 will hold true for me forever. I have a hero to look up to. Many people have said that my mom deserves a monument while she is alive. She will soon get one, unfortunately she won't be here to see it. My mom never talked about being sick, she talked about her youth, her family, her friends. She was always more concerned about first me, her mom (while she was alive), my dad, her dad, family, friends. She has a LOT of friends. I do too. Addresses changed, circumstances changed, they got older, but their friendships lasted. My mom's willpower didn't falter till the very last day. Yet, she still didn't want to take an extra pill to ease her pain. As J said, "she didn't leave [me], she was taken away from [me]." While that's true in the physical sense, noone will ever take mama away from me. She is me and I am her. She's my hero and I will live to keep making her as proud as she's always been and then some.

I love you mulya.

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