When you are young you know that you can be anyone or do anything because your mother believes in you. When you are no longer young, you now know more about yourself and the world, but your mother still believes in you and your dreams. When your mother dies part of you dies too because she is no longer with you to listen, to be with you, to hear about the things that are important to you now.
Your mother is your first friend; she will always be your biggest fan. If you can do anything well or even if you are only trying something new you want her to see it. You crave her attention, her praise, the look in her eyes that tells you that she loves you always. Your mother's love is unconditional; there is nothing that you can do to stop her loving you. You will disappoint her, you might hurt her, you may even betray her but she is always for you.
And just as she is part of you, you are part of her. She was with you every second that you grew and developed; she heard your first cries from deep within her; she felt your first somersault. Whether she can give you every prize the world has to offer or can hardly find food for you, she wants everything for you. She wants every good thing for you and those things are usually not things. She craves your happiness, your contentment. She wants love and friendship and loyalty and faith and respect for you because this is what she has for you. Just as there is no one like her in the world, there is no one like you either, despite what the world may tell you. To her you are perfect, no matter what anyone else says, you are perfect because you are you, and you are hers and she is yours: your mother.
Your mother is your first friend; she will always be your biggest fan. If you can do anything well or even if you are only trying something new you want her to see it. You crave her attention, her praise, the look in her eyes that tells you that she loves you always. Your mother's love is unconditional; there is nothing that you can do to stop her loving you. You will disappoint her, you might hurt her, you may even betray her but she is always for you.
And just as she is part of you, you are part of her. She was with you every second that you grew and developed; she heard your first cries from deep within her; she felt your first somersault. Whether she can give you every prize the world has to offer or can hardly find food for you, she wants everything for you. She wants every good thing for you and those things are usually not things. She craves your happiness, your contentment. She wants love and friendship and loyalty and faith and respect for you because this is what she has for you. Just as there is no one like her in the world, there is no one like you either, despite what the world may tell you. To her you are perfect, no matter what anyone else says, you are perfect because you are you, and you are hers and she is yours: your mother.
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