Life After You And Me

Set Me Free

"I stand before you today with a heavy heart, but also a profound gratitude for the opportunity to share memories of a relationship that shaped my life in more ways than I can express."

I take a deep breath after standing before the star-studded crowd, steadying myself for the task at hand.

"I want to take this moment to reflect on the love, warmth, and support that defined our bond, and the incredible woman my mother was."

The atmosphere is filled with a mix of somberness and elegance, as the event has attracted a gathering of notable individuals from various walks of life. Nothing short of expectation.

As I glance across the faces in the crowd, looking for one in particular, I feel a wave of disappointment crash into me when I don't see it.

Instead, I see the expected expressions; the nods of approval, and the sympathetic smiles from faces of people who look familiar to me but I never really knew.

Mimi used to call them mom's audience—she needed them for the grand show that was her life.

They say our true supporters are the ones who are there at the very end, but what if they were never really your supporters? What if all along they couldn't wait to see your last days?

"As a child, I was fortunate to have a mother who possessed a heart that overflowed with compassion and selflessness. I recall a particular moment that exemplified her unwavering dedication to me, a moment that has become etched in my memory.

I must have been around six years old, and it was a cold winter's day. I had fallen ill, my small body wracked with a fever that left me weak and vulnerable. As I lay in bed, shivering and frightened, my mother entered the room with a determined look in her eyes."

As I continue to scan the faces in the crowd, I consciously plant them to the specific memories they belong to. I remember most of them from the soirées and the infamous Cape Town housewife club I became a part of for a little while when I was married.

My father sits anxiously in the front row, no doubt wondering why I even accepted to deliver a eulogy at his late wife's funeral. I was more surprised by the invitation.

I give him a shy nod, unrevealing the fact that we haven't spoken in months—the audience wouldn't exactly find that appealing.

"My mother carefully tucked me into a warm blanket, her touch gentle and reassuring. With a mother's intuition, she knew exactly what I needed to feel safe and comforted. But what happened next was truly extraordinary, an act of love that remains etched in my heart to this day.

My mother, with unyielding determination, braved the freezing temperatures to retrieve a special gift for me."

A single tear escapes from my eye as I recount the story—the tear proceeds to roll down to my cheek, causing me to pause for a moment to wipe it off so it doesn't continue its tumultuous wrath down my makeup-stained face.

"My mother knew that I had been longing for a particular toy, one that held a special place in my young heart. And despite the weather's harsh grip, she ventured out into the storm to bring me joy.

I remember the sound of her footsteps as she returned home, her face flushed with cold, but her eyes shining with love. She presented me with the coveted toy, and in that moment, the world seemed to brighten around me. It was as if her love had the power to melt away the frosty grip of winter, leaving only warmth and tenderness in its wake.