More often than not, I am known for being my father's daughter. The world doesn't know how much more significant the influence of my mother, Noorazah Abdul Aziz, has on the making of who I have become today. Let me begin by telling her story.
Her mother died of pneumonia when my mom was barely three years old. With a brother who is a year younger than her, the duo was the center of a tug of war between two sets of grandparents who are as opposites as chalk and cheese. With a father who was obviously grieving over the loss of his wife and pressured by his own parents to agree to an arranged marriage, we can only imagine how it must be like for these two children back in 1946.
My mother suffered multiple abuses at the hands of those who were entrusted with her care, namely her father's wife. As they couldn't have children of their own between them, they adopted several children, starting with my grandfather's wife's niece. And while these adopted children were cherished and treated with the best, my mother, on the other hand, was treated very poorly, to say the least. Being married to my father wasn't a bed of roses either. Survivors of narcissistic personalities will tell you how their wounds are life long and a never ending trauma.
She showed me how a strong single mother looks like when she singlehandedly brought up my brothers and I after my father divorced her in 1978. She did it with almost no child support from my father. She pawned and sold her jewelry to afford medical care for us and thought nothing of it. She made her life decisions with our best interest at heart.
Thinking back on what my mother had gone through from her early childhood into her middle adulthood, its no wonder she has stage 6 Alzheimer's disease now. It began with a mild stroke she suffered when her father passed away in 2012, followed by several falls. I believe it is Allah's mercy upon her to help her live the remaining years of her life with no traumatic memory whatsoever.
You will find that all the above paragraphs contain repetitions of the word "suffer." The above story wasn't written with the intention to paint a bad picture of anyone. It just so happens that my mother's experience with all those involved in her life were not materials of happy memories.
As I look towards 2020 with my mom, caring for her as how she did me; being patient with her as how she was with me; I feel honored and blessed with this golden opportunity to be there for her in ways I hope my two daugthers will be for me. I am eternally grateful to both my brothers for taking care of mom during her decline, which I believe, must be the hardest phase of all. As they continue to support me in my caring for my mother, I cherish the bond between my brothers and I, something money can never buy. My mother does not need fame and fortune to validate how much she has given in the name of love and loving. In my eyes, she is my true superhero and her super power is resilience. May Allah continue to bless her with the best of dunia and akhirat. Ameen.
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