My Teacher

My teacher:

my mother was a teacher, by all accounts an exceptional one, long remembered after her first grade students grew up. We had a a contentious relationship for much of my life. It seemed, to me, that the sweetness she held for her students was absent towards me. I carried the weight of what I felt was her disappointment for a long time. 

not long after her retirement, my mother began a long decent into the fog of Alzheimer's, robbing both my parents of heir dreamed of retirement. I became one of her primary caregivers, a trusted and steady guardian for her to depend on. She became my teacher. My mother taught me the language of infinite kindness, re-establishing my inner vocabulary to one of continuous patience. I became truly mindful of how I wished to speak to her, looking past the Alzheimer's to the person that I had missed seeing through all the years of my own insecurities, resentment, and judgement towards her.

I discovered, and experienced...the love that had always been present.

one day I walked past her room and heard her speaking as if she were addressing a roomful of people, children actually, students. Knowing she was alone, curious, I peeked in and say my mother teaching a classroom of children only she could see. She was engaged and loving, calling each child by name and offering them a gentle correction or praise. I didn't interrupt, no need to, these were the real children of her mind and I was privileged to share their lesson. This was the moment  I truly saw my mother, my heart burst open with vision and the children, for just an instant were as real for me as they were to her. It was then that she looked up and saw me, giving me a look of such deep love - and what broke me open even further, a smile of pride towards me. 

my mother became my teacher, an exceptional to the end.

actually, she's still teaching me.

I look for the unseen things of the word now, maybe not a classroom of students to see, but an undercurrent of love that only needs my recognition. My mother taught me the grace of letting go and the steadiness of the presence that remains. She continuously reminds me to trust the unseen, that eventually my eyes will open and I will truly see the classroom of the  world and its need for one more loving teacher. My mother has prepared me for that role. 

she taught me vision,

and infinitely more.

I love you mom.

~

I love you, Eric 

To read more from Headless Now, please visit: The World I Made

Also, please visit to buy: a Path to Peace

Thank you.