Today is international mothers day, some countries have it on other specific dates – but this is the international date.
My mother is strong. Admirable. She has done so much for so many during her life. She gave birth to three kids – each with their own strong character. She managed to raise them all to become something – always supportive, albeit a bit worried like all mothers are.
I remember what she told me about how it was to visit and study in what was then Leningrad. They snuck out of their compound and strolled the streets of Leningrad without their minders or KGB ever finding out.
My mom has been a pre-school teacher all her life more or less. She recently retired. She worked long days, hard days and heavy days – taking care of small children and in the same time raising us.
My mom is a true traveler. She was and still is bold. She went to Israel and hooked up with my father. We as a family moved forth and back. Sweden. Israel. Sweden. Then me. Germany. The Netherlands. USA. Colombia.
But this is not about me. It is about my mother. She did her best, always prioritizing her kids first in every case. She still does her best. She is thoughtful, reasonable and want’s to have a peaceful retirement.
I remember every single time my mom defended me against my dad. I remember when she found me at a zoo when I was ~3 years old, after I had ran away. I remember every Christmas – either celebrated in an apartment, at my mothers side of family or with others in Israel.
I remember how my mother described her feelings when Olof Palme was murdered. I remember when my youngest sister was born – it was a warm summer day.
My mother has been through hell and back, suffering a stroke and living in limbo for several years – until medication for Parkinsons recently made her re-gain her energy and strength. And I’m so relieved that she finally is back to normal. As normal as it gets.
Every mother or parent makes mistakes. That’s unavoidable. I forgive her for everything. In the end of the day – she is always there with me. Supporting me in my personal envoys. We might never agree on some things, but having a mother being so strong is non-negotiable.
My mother has balanced three very unique kids. She divorced my father – the best day of my life. She found a well-educated, helpful and friendly life-partner. They live in peace in their house.
But my mother is also the one who helped me with my homework, the one who turned and counted every single coin and cash note she had in order to sort everything out for us. She was the one buying the birthday gifts. The Christmas gifts. I remember decorating the gingerbread house with her. I remember when we went on roadtrips with our old and crappy Volvo 240.
I will never forget all good things you have done for me. I understand that you did your best in every circumstance. And that’s what matters. Once she told me I was really sick, in 1987. We went to the ER at the French hospital in Nazareth. They took me away and my mom slept in the waiting room outside.
Sometimes I don’t understand my mother. But who does that deep down honestly?
I can’t live without my mother. Life is too short to be angry or mad at each other.
She is a great cook, she bakes the best cakes, nothing beats her cinnamon rolls or her lasagna, she has green fingers – loving her garden. An oasis of tranquility. She understands me, as I understand her. She is caring, she knows when and how to reason with people. She has accomplished raising a bruised and battered family into something amazing. She did it her way under all circumstances. Hell she even opened a restaurant in Israel.
She let me in when my father kicked me out. There was always a mattress available. She fed me. She is genuinely proud of me.
I would never ever swap my mom for another one ever. Never. Despite what we’ve been through – good and bad. Mostly good.
You will always be my mother and I’m so happy for that. When corona is over I want to hug you again.