The Soul

The eyes are the mirror of the soul, they say. But when the soul overflows, it taints the entire face, the entire body. People’s lives are engraved on their face. Was life kind and gentle or filled with sorrow? Was love and kindness the main sentiment or sadness and loneliness? A face will tell it all. It cannot hide its spirit.

A week or so ago, I received mail from my mother. She had purchased a digital camera and took a few pictures of herself which she sent to me. I assume she chose the best ones, those that she really liked. When I opened the envelop and retrieved the content, my heart sunk. There was so much pain and loneliness. I didn’t know who was that person looking straight at me. The image of that poor old woman seemed so different from the one who still haunts me. She is a stranger now. So much has been missed. I will never know who she was, who she is. I almost cried. I almost cried because I felt nothing; pity perhaps, sadness but not love. Where did the love go?

There was a time when she was not so old, so lonely, when she was young, alive, joyous sometimes, there was a time when she was my mom. And I needed her so much. I needed her to love me. Is it some twisted revenge of the heart I am experiencing now? I don’t think so. I think I just dried out, waiting.

I wish I could do something to appease her life as she is getting older. I wish I could take upon some of her discomfort. But I also know that I am the only person she would never accept any kind of relief from. She would like for me to offer, only to be able to reject it, to reject me. She will never be able to embrace anything from me. I was the chosen one. The one she chose not to love.

Still, it pains me to see how her life was lived. I hope whatever lesson she was meant to learn was learnt and that next time her life may be softer. I hope in spite of all the pain she caused, she will be free to move on without repay. If there is a judgment day where one sits and review the good and the bad of the ending life, I want her to know that as hard as I tried, I never stopped wishing she could love me, but understood that she simply could not and forgave her.