To Mom, With Love

Second to "Welcome back, how was your holiday?" I've been asked, "How's your mother?" Even in an email from far away Australia. On Mother's Day, I am happy to update that my mother is doing exceedingly well.

It was strange to see my mother with no hair (see Home-Grown March 2010). But everything else about her was the same, no - it was better. My mother has modeled embracing hardship and seeing the humour in it. She's modeled looking life square in the face and holding her head up high.

On holiday at the Natal Coast my mother saw the humour in wearing hats and bandanas in public by putting an African weaved basket on her head. "Do you think this will work?" she asked with an easy smile. With no hair, her improvised hat and orange T-shirt, Mom looked like a rice paddy worker cum Buddhist monk. We all had a good laugh!

I encouraged Mom to wear her bandanas rather than the caps that shield her eyes from curious looks. The bandanas both softened and opened her face. They were feminine and pretty. A cousin of mine had sent Mom some from Australia: a bright one, a bold one and a classic black and white. Mom wore the brightly bold one to the beach, the classic black and white to the store and church and the strong red one just for fun.

Next Mom greeted curious looks with eye to eye contact and a warm smile. Her confidence blossomed. As I read 'Riding the Dragon' by Robert J. Wicks (see Beach Reading March 2010), I saw how Mom was riding the dragon of cancer in her life and receiving it as a gift to grow her and change her. She would not be the same after cancer: she would be better. Cancer has given depth to my mother's life: a richness in daily living that only comes out of a place of suffering.

One of the sweetest memories I have of my mother's cancer journey was the change in her head from bald cragginess to a soft covering of hair like the light dusting of snow on hard ground. In three short weeks, I went from adjusting to her new look to tucking her into my arm embrace and running my hand over her snuggly soft hair. Being a head shorter than I am, I had a good vantage point, "Mom, it won't be long and you'll have a bed head."

And of course, the smile and happiness in her face when she showed off her millimetre long fringe invited closer inspection. It was a miniscule step away from the trying time of chemotherapy toward a life free of and forever changed by cancer.

Mom, Happy Mother's Day!

I appreciate the lessons on life you still teach me.

With much love, Brenda