This is one of the posts which wants to stay back in drafts.The post is about me and my mom and I am afraid to publish this post.I don’t know when and how I will say these words to my mom.Hope I will tell to her what I write here one day.Emotions must be expressed.But I have failed to do that. I had always thought that its not necessary to express how I feel when we are moved by our loved ones.But its easy to show my anger and it’s difficult to express suddenly how much I love and care.
Its true that I like my dad so much than I like my mom.But I am not able to figure out the exact reason.Because this might be a reason for not understanding her since my childhood.One of my relatives had told me once that my mom cried when she gave birth to me.She had expected to give birth to a boy and it had happened to be me but my father had been very much happy.I had been disappointed after hearing that. I had asked my mom to clarify about what she said.She should had been said what I heard was not true.My father had been my everything since my childhood.Still he is. Still I remember the words I had mentioned to her at the age of five,” You care for your son ,my dad is there to take care for me”.I had thought that she would answer for that.But she had given silence as her answer.
The greatest gift I ever had Came from God, and I call him Dad!
When I used to bicker with my brother for silly things , She had tried to convince us and we never minded. Finally she started crying one day.We stopped fighting over simple things after we had seen her crying.I praised my aunt’s cooking several times in front of my father.My mom cooks well but I never knew she expected my appreciation .Even though I console myself every time for hurting her,saying sorry is not an excuse.
I take dad’s side when he argue with my mom.I told her many times that I like dad very much but I never told “I like you too”.She smiled and replied me ,” I know that “.During my school days ,I had told my friend that she was her best friend, but she had pointed out another person as her best friend.My heart was broken and that incident made me to realize my mistakes I committed.
Understanding the person we care is the most important thing in life.I used to ask my grandma about her nature in childhood.She had replied.She had never expressed her anger when some one hurt her specially the people she cares.She had ended up crying alone in her world (kitchen).She is very silent ,innocent and shy to speak in front of my relatives too.She is not interested in anything like chatting with neighbors ,watching TV. But she loves to help my dad in our farm and she do things to make us laugh when we are bored.
Photo Credits :Google
Nothing is important to her than her family like most moms in the world .Smile spread over her face when my dad praised her cooking.Really a small appreciation made the day wonderful.She is lovable but she don’t express anything.I had understood that its her nature.Even though I feel she cares more about my brother than me ,I know that she like me so much .I want to bridge the gap between us.
“I know you would understand me.You and dad always do your best to take care of us.I ll do my best in everything to understand you even if nobody does.I will try not to disappoint you.” Old habits die hard “.Because some times unintentionally,I still say loudly to dad that I like him very much.But always you are the best and I love you.I am really sorry “.These are the words I want to tell her one day.Saying sorry to the people I love for hurting them is really difficult for me.Like most people,I am really blessed to have wonderful family.I pray lord to give me the courage to express these words to her one day.
May be I am over imagining because she might not had taken anything to her heart or she is expecting me to tell that I like her too.But I do not want to let go my feelings unnoticed.We never know a person’s heart.If any way is there,there is no need for me to struggle like this.If I tell her “I am sorry”,what would she think of me??.What ever it is,”I am sorry ma”
My Journey of being myself . . . 