Saiusa Kongsakorn My Heroine Today is the first time that I share about the woman who raises me, her honor, a piece without her beside me. I wrote about her and I want to tell her that she still in me, where ever she stays I want to tell her that I love her but deeply feeling, it more than the word “LOVE”.
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My mom loved it when my brother and I would play on the piano. She had an affinity for Teresa, the woman whose life and character very much paralleled my mom's: a woman whose loving daughter and son stubbornly insisted on forging their own paths; a woman married for many years to a smart man who made the family run and who had a mind of her own; a woman who immersed herself in both the life of the mind and the body; a woman who enjoyed day-dreams of getting rich; a woman who could anger easily and just as easily ask for forgiveness; a woman who was centrally involved with both her family and community; a woman who loved tradition.
My mom was the forger of many of our family traditions, the creator of a vision of an ideal family headed by an always-engaged mother, something she hadn't had. Sometimes she'd say she was learning from scratch how to be a mother. That was usually when we were coming together after an argument about something. My mom didn't like to have bad feelings unresolved. Every time after we fought, she'd come into my bedroom to talk or later, when I lived away from home, she'd call me on the phone. Talking was an important part of who my mother was. That was the way she connected to people. That is how, in fact, I saw my mother's spirituality: through her connections to other people.
Mom liked to talk about current events, about my brother and my daily activities or the plans for our lives. And she loved to get into heated political discussions. A staunch Democrat, she had strong opinions. She'd often ask me how I was planning to vote on a Proposition. If my choice was different from her, she wanted to make sure I...