My mother started forgetting little things around the house. She'd forget to pour water when cooking rice, forget the keys she'd left on the table, forget a conversation she'd just had a few minutes earlier... At first, I thought it was just normal, the absentmindedness of old age. But gradually, this forgetfulness became more and more noticeable, slow and certain, as if time were gently taking something away from her.
Every time she talked to her grandchildren, my mother would ask, "Bich, what grade are Ngan in this year?", "Are you going to school today?", "Are you coming home for Tet this year?"... even though she had asked and answered those questions countless times. During our visits home, sitting beside my mother on the porch, listening to her whisper stories about the village and family, she would repeat a story she had just finished telling, like an endless cycle. I listened attentively, my heart pounding with each passing moment.
My mother has toiled and sacrificed her whole life for the family and her children. Now, as old age approaches, I feel heartbroken witnessing the woman who was once strong, agile, capable, and resourceful becoming slow and sluggish. Although I know that old age brings forgetfulness and loneliness, a vague fear arises in my heart: that one day, she might forget her children and grandchildren. I feel helpless, unable to hold back time, unable to keep my mother forever young.
My heart aches when my mother forgets to eat her meals but still remembers to remind her children and grandchildren to eat properly every day. She forgets the way home but remembers my birthday down to the minute. She forgets things that happened in a day, but she remembers my childhood memories perfectly and recounts them in detail as if it were yesterday. Even knowing all this, I still secretly believe that while time may cause her to forget some memories, it will never be able to take away her love.
As my mother began to forget, I learned patience and love. If at first I only wanted to snap at her, now I know how to patiently listen. If at first I was indifferent and uncaring towards her, now I know how to be proactive and caring. My mother taught me so many times the importance of patience, and she was patient with me so many times; now I will be the one to be patient and loving towards her.
The elderly are very susceptible to loneliness, especially as their memories gradually fade. Sometimes, my mother sits silently for a long time, as if trying to hold onto something that has just slipped from her memory. Sometimes she even forgets herself. At this moment, I understand that what she needs most isn't medicine, but family meals, the comforting touch of holding hands, and whispered conversations with her children and grandchildren… It's that simple, yet it represents such a gentle act of kindness for my mother.
Perhaps one day, my mother will forget my name. The woman who once remembered everything about her children and grandchildren will now ask them their names, ages, where they live, what they do… Thinking about that, a pang of sadness wells up inside me, difficult to put into words. I reassure myself: it's okay, because when my mother begins to forget, it's not the end of love, but just another chapter in my journey, one where I need to slow down, to be gentler and love her more completely.
I believe that while my mother may forget the past, forget the little things in life, she will certainly never forget how to love her children and grandchildren, whether through her gaze, her smile, or a weak handshake. I cherish the time I spend with my mother as a way of valuing and preserving precious moments spent with family, loved ones, and with her. Loving and caring for her is my way of repaying a small part of the immeasurable love she has given me, my family, and life itself… before she begins to forget.
Green Plain
Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202512/khi-me-bat-dau-quen-1f30f04/
Comment (0)