Ode to my Mum

Filomena from Rototuna

Dandelions on my way

I closed my suitcase. I had packed everything. I was closing the door on 30 years of existence in a country that had watched me grow. I was leaving to become a successful web content editor/translator in New Zealand. In an instant, weeks of excitement, preparation and anxiety emerged with the click of the suitcase's locker. I had a lump in my throat. My life was about to change in a way I could never have imagined.
The twenty-six-hour-long trip went well and I spent the first few days trying to find a house to call home. The perfect place turned out to be a lovely but very expensive cottage with a million dollar view over Rangitoto. The house was perfect, besides its price. I indulged myself with that breathtaking view, remembering the reasons I had chosen New Zealand in the first place. I felt happy and relaxed in spite of not having a clear answer from the company to sign my new contract. It looked like they wanted to keep my agreement as a contractor for another couple of weeks, which was fine. The idea of working from a nice quiet and sunny veranda was too good to be true. In time, everything was falling into place. The container arrived. Unpacking all the stuff I had gathered over a lifetime was exciting and an important part of decorating my new chosen home, here on the other side of the world. The sight of the sea warmed my heart. I knew that this was the time to fulfill my dream and start to write.
As the weeks went by I started to get out and see new places. In the blink of an eye, two months had passed, and then everything changed. A phone call, a massive stroke, mum was dead. Just like that. With a phone call disappeared one of the most important people in my life. Never again would I hear her voice, feel her hug. My life broke. My body ached, trying to vomit the anger and despair I was feeling. Her birthday was in a couple of days! How could this be? What cruel and twisted fate was behind this? I couldn't bear the pain. Suddenly life had ripped my flesh into a hundred pieces. I could feel my umbilical cord bleeding.
'Please, hold on. That's what she wanted,' my sister cried on the phone.
A sixteen-thousand dollar ticket flight stopped me from returning back and saying the last “Goodbye” to the woman who gave birth to me. The one who had always given me everything.
I buried myself in work trying to escape the grief and sorrow. But, life hit me hard again a couple of days later: the company would close its office in CBD.
The next few weeks were terrible. Moving to a cheaper house, searching for a job. My world was collapsing around me.
Many tears passed and my mum's birthday came around again, a year after her death. And that was the day I climbed my own Gethsemane.
I picked all the dandelions I found on my way. I held as many as possible in my hands and went all the way up.
It took me ages. My feet were heavy, my journey hard. I wished I didn’t need to. I wished this path wasn’t mine. But still, I went on my personal and lonely way. Discouraged. Broken as I had never felt before.
I found the perfect spot next to an olive tree, on the top of the hill. Surrounded by trees and flowers with a view over the sea, as she would have wanted it. And I stood there, with the dandelions in my hands as if they were she. Carrying them in my heart. The same way she had held and carried me over the years. And I told her about my fears, my stubborn and everlasting dream.
'I still bleed, you know. Your absence still hurts. And I meet you every day in my thoughts, where you hold me in your arms. I wish I could tell you one more time how much I love you. Not the way I told you before. The way I know now,' I whispered, tears rolling down my face.  
It was my personal pagan ritual. Only pure transcendent love surrounded by the sounds and smell of nature. My symbols of bread and wine. 
Those dandelions I held were she in my arms. They were my love, my longing for her. And I blew them all into the wind. Unspoken love and magic.
I opened my eyes. I felt my mother's presence next to me and turned my face to look her in the eyes. She held my hand and smiled sweetly at me the way only she knew how.
'It's time now. You know that, don't you?'
I took a deep breath.
'Will you be here?' I asked.
'Always.'
It was time. I was ready now. Ready to pursue my dream, and start writing.