It’s Mother’s Day in the United Kingdom – a time for celebration, appreciation and worship. I am grateful that my mother has survived the scourge of Cancer to reach this special day and I thank God for our continued blessings.
Naturally, during moments of solitude, I wonder about my future and the poor health which has rendered my body fruitless. There shall come a time when I am all alone; no parents nor children with which to celebrate Mother’s Day. I am not depressed: I am resigned. I cannot change the past… I can only accept the present and adapt to any challenges waiting patiently to present themselves within my future.
I am grateful for all I possess: family, friends, shelter, food and many other basic, yet abundant, riches (they are too plentiful to list nor count). I am undeniably fortunate and, predominantly, happy to be alive.
I am, however, still human…
Upon occasion, particularly on days such as this, I catch myself wondering how the other half live: the mothers, the girlfriends, the wives, the employed, the inspirational… the singular groups which together form that enviable collective of ‘the valued’.
There are many special days in the calendar to celebrate ‘the valued’ – from Valentine’s to Mother’s Day – yet there are none to support nor uplift the disadvantaged, defective or unlovable. We idolise the contribution of ‘the valued’ to mankind. We reward them for being fertile, loved and adored, as if they slogged through hardship and disadvantage to reach such lofty heights. Often, their accomplishments are incidental: we are all supposed to be fertile, loved and adored. Nature designed it as such to continue our species.
Those of us who are treated and perceived to be somehow less than the rest of our species are penalised for being defective, as if we selected our fate and opted to be childless, alone or ridiculed. I cannot help to question how we emerged: are we a fail-safe feature, cunningly engineered by Nature to serve as a covert form of population control? This bleak notion disregards my earlier summation: everyone is meant to be blessed with fertility, love and adulation. Perhaps there are no rogue mutations and, by design and intention, a percentage of the population is required to be shunned. Suddenly, we are all ‘normal’ rather than ‘abnormal’… how refreshing.
It’s an unconventional conclusion, yet it warrants speculation. After all, natural selection has not favoured my being. I am far from healthy, devoid of physical beauty and blighted by genetic limitations. Regardless, I am not bitter, angry – nor even defeated – I am… dare I say it… disappointed.
That must seem ungrateful. In truth, it is. I should be proud of myself at all times. There will never be a special day in the calendar to celebrate nor commemorate my achievements, status or existence so the least I can do is rejoice in my own skin. I confess, I have little success in this endeavour. I have ongoing self-esteem issues which I acknowledge but, thankfully, no longer allow to overcome my emotions.
I can never hope to erase the stain of worthlessness from my soul and I have taken to wearing it like a badge, defiantly embracing that which others choose to reject. I am a victim of scorn and contempt, yet I am still a human being. I have never deserved the cruelty and shame inflicted by others. I do, admittedly, deserve a certain degree of disdain: I am the fool who allowed the aforementioned cruel treatment to continue. It took many anguished months of melancholy and self-loathing to understand the contribution I made to my own downfall. Reaching the pit of despair which finally embodied “rock bottom” was an arduous, prolonged journey. My ascension from its murky bogs was thankfully far more swift and steady.
I am able to appreciate and value occasions such as Mother’s Day and I treasure the joy and emotion displayed by my mum in response to my cards and gifts. I know there will come a time when loneliness shall creep into Mother’s Day yet I shall warmly and fondly recall all those I was blessed to share with my mum. Memories change and fade but love – real love, such as that exchanged between parent and child – has no face nor image to which one can cling. It is a never ending sensation: a wave which never breaks; a journey never finished; a conversation never concluded; a thought never lost; a hug never broken. It perseveres and sustains our souls, soothes our bodies and comforts our minds. It is as necessary as oxygen, water and food: an elixir gifted to the human race by God, Nature, the universe – whichever you choose.
Each beat of my heart pumps love, as well as air, throughout my body and, thus, I cannot help but value Mother’s Day and all other special occasions. The celebration of those we love is a wonderful experience and I treasure every second with my glorious, brave and precious mother. I hope and pray we shall share many more.