The First Time I Saw Mommy Age

I never thought my mother would get old. My mother has always been there since our birth. She’s always been the rock, she’s always been the strength, yet I never ever thought of my mother getting old. Why haven’t I? I’m not saying that Mommy would not get old; when I look in the mirror, I see I am getting old, and she’s older than me. So why would I not think Mommy would get old?

On Father’s Day, I visited my mother as I do most days. I looked at her in the chair and I could see she was sad. I said, “Mom, what’s wrong?” She said, “I’m just tired. Now, with these medications I’m taking, I’m up all night and I’m just tired.” I could see the change in her. I could see her hair beginning to become whiter. I can see where the years had taken their toll on her face. She’s just not that vibrant mother who we’ve always had. Mommy, I hear you sometimes mention death. Sometimes that bothers me, but then I throw it back at myself. There are times I talk about death too.

We all wish our mothers could always be with us because mothers always represented peace and love. My mother always did. But when I looked at her, I saw her mother. I now see my mother sitting in a chair just like I saw her mother sitting in a chair, and I see them start to age in that chair. That was not my mother’s way of living, or her mother’s. They were both very, very active, always on the go. But when it’s time to die, it’s time. Mother, will I ever be ready for your death? No! I always promised myself that if you died first, which I hope happens only because I want to be there for you, I will follow you. I will follow you because I love you, Mom.