Just Love

Sometimes, a place can hold more memories than we realise.

This morning, I went to see my doctor. 

My half yearly routine check up. 

Every time I go to my doctor’s clinic, I can still picture my late mom sitting in a wheelchair at her favorite spot, waiting for her turn. 

She would usually protest. 

“I can walk, I can walk…”

And I would insist that she use the wheelchair, especially as she became weaker over the years. 

She had lived with an old leg injury from a freak accident many years ago and one leg was shorter than the other. We even had her shoes adjusted so that one was slightly higher and she could walk more comfortably.

Some days she would agree to the wheelchair. Other days, she would insist on walking slowly. That was my mom. 😊

And as I was sitting in that clinic this morning, I sometimes remember all her little observations.

If I was looking at my phone:

“It’s bad for your eyes. Put the phone away.”

If my hair was loose:

“Tie up your hair.”

And if I became too chatty with the nurse:

“Don’t keep talking to her. She has lots of work to do.”

Meanwhile, the nurse and I would be happily chatting away. 😂😂😂

Then, inevitably:

“Go and eat something. You haven’t had your breakfast.”

There is a little café on the same floor and some days my mom and I would have toast and tea together. 

Usually, after seeing the doctor, while waiting for the pharmacy to dispense her medicines, we would have an early lunch. I loved watching her eat as my mom rarely ate out, so those little meals together were special to me.

At the time, they were simply ordinary days. A wheelchair. A clinic. Toast and tea. Waiting for medicine. A little scolding.

A little laughter. A meal together.

But now, I realise those ordinary moments were filled with something extraordinary.

Love.

My mom’s love was overflowing.

It wasn’t always expressed in grand gestures. Often, it sounded like reminders, observations, little arguments and endless concern.

Did I eat?

Was I resting?

Was I taking care of myself?

Was I talking too much?

Was my hair tied up? 😂❤️

It was her way of loving me.

And perhaps it took the years I spent with her, especially during the later years, for me to fully understand just how deep that love was.

My mom is no longer here.

The house where she spent her last years is quiet now. The room is empty.

And sometimes, when I visit the clinic without her, I can almost feel her presence beside me. 

I miss her terribly. But beneath the missing, there is something else….

Gratitude.

Because, what a blessing it was to receive a love like hers. If there is ever another life, another chance, another beginning, I know what I would choose….

I would choose her again.

I would want her to be my mom again.

Because some loves don’t simply become memories when someone leaves us. They become part of who we are.

And hers…was just love.

Overflowing, never-ending, an unforgettable love. ❤️🙏🏻