My Mom, My Hero

A woman that inspires me everyday, and has for years, is my mom. That seems like a given. Most people find their moms to be an inspiration in their lives, and rightfully so. Mothers tend to us from birth to young adulthood, and sometimes even past that, depending on the situation. As they take care of us, we watch them. As we grow older, we begin to understand all that they do for us, just as I have noticed about my mom. 

My mom has always taken care of people. She took care of her mom, who suffered from diabetes. At around the age of 15, my mom started doing care work for local neighbors. While she did this, she also worked in a factory to help out her parents. After her mom passed away, she took care of her little sister, who was 14 years her junior. My mom also began to take care of her father, who started to suffer from COPD. Soon enough, my mom had me. Then came my sister. She worked long shifts as a CNA in a nursing home, while she took care of her sick father and two young children. After my grandfather passed away, and years later, my father left, she just had us. My sister and I, likewise, only had our mom. 

Looking back, I don’t really recall thinking we were on the poorer side. My mom worked hard to get us what we needed and wanted. She swallowed her pride to ask for help to get us things. She pulled long hours, working the night shift, so that she could be with us during the day. She only slept when we were in school. As my sister and I got older, we noticed that her ‘sleep’ was really like a 2-3 hour nap. Her body soon started to show signs of continuous overwork and caring for others. She had spent so many years lifting heavy residents that her back, legs, and arms took a toll. Her asemia got worse. Her stomach, from stress, ached more and more. Her body was suffering. Yet she carried on to see that we were taken care of. 

Even when our family was suffering, she always tried to make it better. Small things meant so much. Getting something to eat. Taking a drive. Watching a Christmas movie in the summer. Making jokes. Even when things were really bad, and it was hard to see the good, she made the good happen. I always believed that she could fix anything. That as long as she was with us, we would be alright. When I felt sad, scared, or hurt, she was there to make me feel better. In the end, mom made everything better. 

That is, until, mom was gone. My mom passed away in 2018. When she passed, I didn’t know what I would do. It was just me and my little sister, basically on our own. Yes, there were people there to help. Our father stepped up. But the woman that had been with us from the start was gone. Our protector. Our guide. Our healer. I didn’t know how I would survive without her. 

My mom was strong; physically and mentally. She always showed us a strong face. I didn’t really ever see her cry until her later years. She always seemed good with money, even though she still got us stuff. She made our childhood fun. She never hit us, yet we were still discipled well. She was laid-back and let us grow. She was always loving, even when she was mad at us. She always supported us. Everyone always mentioned how she talked about us so much. It is because of who she was that I know, even without her, I will be fine. 

She taught me to be caring, especially to those in need. That violence is not a form of control. That is it okay to be sensitive. To never let others get you down. To do what makes you happy. My mom always said she wanted a better life for my sister and I. She didn’t want us to suffer like she had. I am inspired by her to do better for my life. To work hard but to also remember to rest. To do better with my health. Most of all, to love my family. I always think about her and all that she taught me. I hope one day that she will know how much of an inspiration to me she was. How much she still is.