My Mother’s Love is Unconditional. I see that now.
Three weeks with my mother flew by.
And yet, there was ENOUGH time.
I left my mom yesterday morning with a feeling of satisfaction and peace.
I am filled with gratitude, because although it wasn’t always perfect – it somehow ended up perfect just the way it was.
The most pronounced feeling that I left with – which had me remember what I already knew instinctively – is how much love is available underneath our grievances, blame, guilt, and wounding. When we dare to return, to repair, to try again, to talk it through, that heavy layer of pain lifts and what remains – what is always there, waiting, available – is love.
I also realize that my mother’s love to me is, in fact, unconditional. Focusing on all the ways I felt judged and misunderstood over the years, I wasn’t able to see the love. In fact, I was the one who turned away from love that was always there. Closed in on my pain, I wasn’t able to receive it.
Because for my mom nothing ever threatened the love she felt toward me. I see that now.
As I was leaving my mother, I was returning in my thoughts to my husband, who was preparing for my arrival back home.
Nourished by love I shared with my mother, I was open enough to remark that the only other person who’s as constant, as stable, as ever-present in my life (so far) is my husband. I leave and I come back, I go away and I return, and when I return – after days, weeks or months away – he’s always there to greet me. And that’s an incredibly healing space to be. I see that now.
More to come.