And the residual effect of her love…
The most important woman in your life is, and will always be, your mother. Yes, you will have girlfriends and lovers, and hopefully a wife or partner, whom I hope and pray you will treat with dignity and respect, whom you will support and protect with all your strength, but remember this: your mother is supreme. As you grow up and move on, as time and distance come between you and your mother, you may not think of her as much. You may not see her often, and you may only talk once in a while. But please try to think of her, and honor her as much as possible, even from afar.
Why?
Because your mother is the very reason for your existence. Without her, you would not be here. You began as a miniscule collection of cells inside of her, and through the miracle that is her body, you grew and grew until it was time for your to come out of her body. Through her, you entered this world, and with that same flesh and bone, heart and soul, she nourished you as a tiny human. She nurtured your body, mind, and soul without saying a word. Her skin to yours was the continuation of the bond that formed when you were inside of her.
She continued to feed and nurture you in ways that were not exactly like growing you or feeding you with her breast, but she still gave and gave to you. Your mother, in fact, will continue to give to you even if she is not physically right there giving something to you. (It’s quite miraculous—this residual effect of her love.)
That, my sons, is what your mother has given you. Love. The ability to feel it, receive it, give it, understand it, put words to it, taste it, touch it, see it, hear it. She is synonymous with the very experience that is love.
And so, when you see her, give it back. Give it all back, and then some. When you’ve grown up and are no longer ours, and come home to see you mother—no matter how often—she will want to hold and touch and kiss you in the exact same way that she did when you were just a small, wrapped up bundle. Let her. Let her have the feeling—that moment—over and over again.
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