I Am Tiramisu

Would you believe this would only be the first time I treat my mother to afternoon coffee? And I just realized this would also be her first coffee...

Changes...little ones. Yet dramatic in a sense.

I have not offered any consoling lectures to my mom since the beginning. I know she does not really need that. Except of course to assure her that papa is now in a better place and health. I know she is hurting. I know that will never heal. She will cope somehow but will never heal. I feel I should let her be...to grieve as she wants to. I am always here for her, just quietly beside her. She tries her best.

I took a portrait of her last Wednesday. As I was editing it, I saw her eyes. The depth of what her heart and soul I saw written in her eyes. I called her over the phone. We talked. But still not about what just happened. Being there for one another had always been enough for us. I admire her strength. I know I got mine from hers.

The loss of my father has shattered my soul. Seeing my mother hurting is blowing away the pieces of my shattered soul. In some ways, we both shall never heal.