Mother's Eternal Love

The Things We Don't Notice

There is something almost unbearably beautiful about the ordinary ways in which our mothers love us.

Not always through grand gestures. Not through carefully chosen words or dramatic declarations. But through the little things we barely notice.

A phone call asking if we've eaten.

A packet of something we once loved.

Food packed carefully before we leave.

A reminder to carry an umbrella.

A favourite tea picked up from the store.

A simple, “I saw this and thought of you.”

We grow up believing these things will always be there. We become busy. We postpone conversations. We say, “I'll call you later.” We sometimes find their questions repetitive, their concern excessive, their fussing unnecessary.

And then, one day, there is no later.

That is when the smallest things suddenly become enormous. A grocery bag sitting quietly in the back seat of a car can become a lifetime of love. A voice we once hurried through a conversation to escape becomes the voice we would give anything to hear again. A story we had heard a hundred times becomes the story we wish we could hear just once more.

Perhaps that is the cruelest lesson of losing someone we love. We don't miss only the person.

We miss their habits.

Their interruptions.

Their questions.

Their little complaints.

The food they insisted we take home.

The things they remembered about us that we had forgotten about ourselves.

We miss being someone's child.

And perhaps motherhood never really stops. Even when children grow into adults, mothers continue to mother them in quieter ways. They notice what we need. They remember what we like. They worry from a distance. They keep loving us through gestures so ordinary that we often fail to recognize them as extraordinary.

So, if your mother calls today, answer.

If she tells you something you've already heard, listen again.

If she insists you take something home, take it.

If she asks whether you've eaten, tell her you have, even if you haven't.

And if you have the chance to say, “I love you,” don't save it for another day.

Because one day, the phone may stop ringing. And you may find yourself longing for the very things you once considered interruptions.

Love is often hiding in plain sight, wearing the clothes of everyday life.

Notice it while you still can.