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Heart of a Mother (A Poem for Mother's Day)

Paul is an Engineer. A graduate from a Catholic University. A rebel and a romantic...

This is a photo of my mother and my brother taken in 2008. She was so healthy and vibrant back then.

the-heart-of-my-mother

Update

God called my mother home at 0600 H today July 12, 2021. I will miss her but we will be together someday. I know she is free from pain now and is in a beautiful place.



Background

I wrote this poem to describe the sadness our family is going thru after my mother was diagnosed with dementia and parkinson's disease. She got sick in 2014. According to my father, sometime in summer of 2014 my mother got a sprain and just stayed in her room for a month. For a month, she did not talk with anyone and just went out of the room to eat or use the bathroom. When she finally decided to get out, my father noticed something strange -- she cannot write anymore. My mother has diabetes and based on literatures presented to us diabetes may have a role in the development of dementia and parkinson's disease.


She had therapy for years but her condition continued to worsen. Now she cannot do things on her own and barely talks.

I have been away from home for 5 years so she cannot remember who I am anymore. It's really sad to see the woman who taught you how to dream and face the world succumb to a degenerative illness.


But our family must remain strong and keep the faith on God. Now is the time for us to show unconditional love to the matriarch of our family. The mind and body may fail but faith,hope, and love will remain.


Heart of a Mother

She is sitting on a chair
Looking at me with a blank stare.
When she was young she was so fair,
Now she can’t even comb her hair,
Her mind fading away like air.

Through her I was born in this world.
She taught me how to read, write, and pray;
Growing up, she was my backbone;
She celebrated my milestones;
With her care, courage was unfurled.
But now to time she is a prey.

I thought she was invincible
But life is unpredictable;
Each year she is wilting away.
And each time I think of goodbye,
It feels like the end of the world.
I dread to hear her final sigh.
That day all courage will be furled.

How many prayers must I pray?
For you, My God, to make her stay…

© 2018 Paul Balagtas

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