NOTES ON LOVE

My mother is a Miracle of love. In her final chapters, what she had to communicate changed dramatically. She dropped all of her narratives, stories, opinions, and testimonies about this or that. It all fell off. I envied that. It would feel like a relief to drop all my narratives. My mom’s language became simple. It was unfettered, unburdened. Although she said nonsensical things due to Alzheimer’s, her devotional language shone the most radiantly and deeply. It was so beautiful.When I was visiting her in her twilight, the majority of her dialogue was telling me how much she loved me and in each of our conversations, she would address me as “beloved”. She would say, “beloved, do you know how much I love you?”. Over and over she would declare this. How I adored that. Rather than being pestered or irritated by her repetition, I allowed myself to hear and feel her and place each “I love you” declaration in my heart. I will never physically hear her any longer which breaks my heart. I also know that when she was saying “I love you” she was simultaneously saying “I forgive you.” All the times I turned my back on her, cursed her, raised my voice, ignored, or walked away, she loved me through it all and told me she loved me till the end. My mother was the beloved, God, Rumi, and a true love warrior. A light of bhakti that will shine on.