bubuzi69
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Greetings Writers of the World... Especially to My Readers' Circle.
Those of you who follow me know that I recently lost my mom... I had the joy of being with her until her last breath... she practically died in my arms... She saw me born, I saw her die.
I don't know what your relationship with your mom is like, because many don't have a good relationship with theirs, but I assume that, if you are here in this community of writers, you are one of those who have good memories of their mother.
In one experiment a puppy dog several months old was taken and placed in a crate for three days, there it was given its food and water. At the end of that time it was taken to a lonely vacant lot and cameras were set up to observe the dog's behavior when it was alone.
The box was left open... the puppy came out of the box and sniffed the perimeter and returned to the box... after a while it came out again and went a little further away, always sniffing with its sense of smell, looked, sniffed the air and returned to the box... it came out again, whined, barked, sniffed and returned to the box.
The box was the only place he knew, the only place he was familiar with, that's why he didn't dare to go any further... we spend nine months in our mother's womb, protected and fed, then when we are born warm arms and breasts full of sweet and delicious milk await us... and we grow up in our home, always growing in our own home. and we grow up in our home, always with cuddles, with cooing, with caresses, we feel that we belong to that space... we grow up and we must make our lives apart, but we will always remember that home, that maternal shelter, those warm arms... and if something goes wrong in our independence we believe that we can return if necessary.
Losing our mother makes us feel helpless, helpless NO MATTER HOW OLD WE ARE!
One day, I was going through a "grief of love", and she said to me: None of you, referring to us her children, can hide a pain, grief or anguish without me feeling it. You are an extension of me and whatever happens to you happens to me... she hugged me tenderly and said: Come, tell me, what do you have? You know that you can count on your mother in moments of affliction or sadness ALIVE OR DEAD... I will always be with you ALIVE OR DEAD... while I live I will share your sorrows and when I die, from above, I will be by your side.
I know she will return, when it rains, turned into dewdrops... I know she will return, when it is warm, turned into a warm breeze... I know she will return, when it is cold, turned into a snowflake... I know she will return when the flowers and roses in your garden bloom... I know she will return a thousand times... and die a thousand times more.
No one knows what they have until they lose it.
If your mom is alive go and hug her... kiss her... give her flowers TODAY... but make it TODAY... DON'T EXPECT TO TAKE THEM TO HER GRAVE WHEN SHE CAN NO LONGER SEE THEM, NOR SMELL THEM.
Those of you who follow me know that I recently lost my mom... I had the joy of being with her until her last breath... she practically died in my arms... She saw me born, I saw her die.
I don't know what your relationship with your mom is like, because many don't have a good relationship with theirs, but I assume that, if you are here in this community of writers, you are one of those who have good memories of their mother.
In one experiment a puppy dog several months old was taken and placed in a crate for three days, there it was given its food and water. At the end of that time it was taken to a lonely vacant lot and cameras were set up to observe the dog's behavior when it was alone.
The box was left open... the puppy came out of the box and sniffed the perimeter and returned to the box... after a while it came out again and went a little further away, always sniffing with its sense of smell, looked, sniffed the air and returned to the box... it came out again, whined, barked, sniffed and returned to the box.
The box was the only place he knew, the only place he was familiar with, that's why he didn't dare to go any further... we spend nine months in our mother's womb, protected and fed, then when we are born warm arms and breasts full of sweet and delicious milk await us... and we grow up in our home, always growing in our own home. and we grow up in our home, always with cuddles, with cooing, with caresses, we feel that we belong to that space... we grow up and we must make our lives apart, but we will always remember that home, that maternal shelter, those warm arms... and if something goes wrong in our independence we believe that we can return if necessary.
Losing our mother makes us feel helpless, helpless NO MATTER HOW OLD WE ARE!
One day, I was going through a "grief of love", and she said to me: None of you, referring to us her children, can hide a pain, grief or anguish without me feeling it. You are an extension of me and whatever happens to you happens to me... she hugged me tenderly and said: Come, tell me, what do you have? You know that you can count on your mother in moments of affliction or sadness ALIVE OR DEAD... I will always be with you ALIVE OR DEAD... while I live I will share your sorrows and when I die, from above, I will be by your side.
I know she will return, when it rains, turned into dewdrops... I know she will return, when it is warm, turned into a warm breeze... I know she will return, when it is cold, turned into a snowflake... I know she will return when the flowers and roses in your garden bloom... I know she will return a thousand times... and die a thousand times more.
No one knows what they have until they lose it.
If your mom is alive go and hug her... kiss her... give her flowers TODAY... but make it TODAY... DON'T EXPECT TO TAKE THEM TO HER GRAVE WHEN SHE CAN NO LONGER SEE THEM, NOR SMELL THEM.
