All Posts Tagged ‘Mother


Tender Bronze

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Ivan Mestrovic 2

I have been recently in the atelier of the sculptor Ivan Meštrović in Zagreb (Croatia) which is now a museum. He has a great expressive strength in his sculptures in bronze and stone.

I was deeply impressed by the tenderness of the Pietà of the saint Mark’s church in the upper city of Zagreb, that you can see in the picture above.

After contemplating that, I went to the atelier were I saw sculptures very strong and angular, and among them, other very tender, always with the mother as a main figure, like the woman with her child, that you can see in the picture bellow.

Ivan Mestrovic 5

Ragtag Daily Prompt – Tender


Looking back, looking forward


This year I have failed in almost everything I was supposed to do, but I can say that I have been there for my mom till she passed away, taking care of her, being by her side when she needed me, talking with her… loving her. I’m glad I have been able to do it. Now I feel sad when I see her house empty and I miss her smile and her wise and loving words. But life must go on… I’ll never forget this 2017.

Now let’s look forward: Happy New Year


My dad’s library

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My parents house was a cozy place mainly because they were there filling everything with their affection and their love. But also because the house was plenty of books (my father was a writer and a professor of literature), that gave warmth to the rooms. There were no walls without shelves and books on them except in the kitchen.

My father passed away years ago and my mother a few months ago, and we decided to donate my father’s library and his archive to his University. It will be available to scholars to research about my father’s work.

A few days before Christmas two librarians from the University came to classify, pack, and take away everything. They needed 115 big boxes to pack everything and two big vans to move them to the University’s Library and Archive

Now the house is empty and cold. Very sad. At least, we know all that beloved material is in good hands and will be useful for people interested in what my father had been doing all those years he spent writing and teaching. There are some graduated who could make their papers for their PhD on my father’s work.

All these are the good reasons we did. But for me is hard to look at the empty shelves without feeling my heart torn.



Inheritance of love


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My parents lived one of the most exciting love stories I’ve ever heard of. They got married during the WWII. They had a baby, and almost immediately after that,  the war separated them.

My father was a prisoner, later a refugee and finally an exiled. My mom had to hide with the baby and later was persecuted because of her faith in a communist country. They spent twelve years trying to reunite again during which they suffered a lot.

All their attempts were a failures until 1956. But they loved each other so much that when they finally succeeded and met again, they were able to look at each other at the eyes without regrets, and continue their live together just as if they had said farewell the day before. And they continued loving each other like the first day till the end.

Dad, a writer, used to write poems to mom and surprise her with little gifts with no apparently reason. She was always smiling. Their friends and acquaintances say that my parents conveyed serenity and happiness. I think so too.

My dad passed away sixteen years ago. My mom just last August.

I miss them badly

They didn’t have material things to leave us as inheritance.

I would like to inherit their way of loving, so natural, so intense, so faithful.






Here is my mom solving crosswords at her desk. She is 96. She has total paralysis in the left half of her body due to a brain stroke she suffered four years ago and she’s completely dependant, confined in her wheelchair, but his intelligence remains intact. Last Christmas, her present was a kindle. She had been complaining that it was difficult for her to read paper books because with only one hand was almost impossible keep the book open and turn the pages. with the electronic book, she can do it with a single finger. She switched without problems to the digital format and she’s reading mystery novels and other books.
But I admire her because she’s a survivor with a lot of inner strength who never gives up. She survived WWII, a hard Communist Regime, an unjust incarceration, twelve years of forced separation of her husband, exile and now this sickness. And she never have lost her smile. Be optimistic, kind and strong. Never give up. That’s my mom.



The Lottery day


What’s your next, most pressing deadline? Are you excited, stressed, or ambivalent about it? What’s the first thing you’d like to do once you’re done with it?

If I disappear from the blogosphere the 22nd of this month will be because the woman who is helping me with the care of my mom will have gone and I will be extremely busy for at least the next two weeks. I only have three more days to get ready. Mom is severely paralysed, and she needs help for everything. My sister and I will take turns to be with her 24 hours a day. But we have to get organized because to move her she needs two persons. So take turns is not enough. Am I anxious? Yes, I am. I would like to have means to give her the best professional care. Instead, she’ll have to rely on my inexpert (but loving) hands. I’m nervous because I’m afraid to fail or to do something wrong.

By coincidence that same day in Spain there is a big extraordinary draw of the lottery. I’m playing two numbers with my pals of the press association. I’ve never had luck in the lottery but I’m praying for this year’s numbers (I never did such a thing before). I don’t want a big prize. Enough to keep living. If I won something I’d spend it in the care of my mom.

I realise I’m not talking about deadlines but the 22nd is the most pressing date I have in the horizon.


In Due Time.


Immortal soul and early terrors

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At what age did you realize you were not immortal? How did you react to that discovery?

I really don’t remember, but it must be at a very early age because death visited my family when I was very small and my parents surely explained to me what was all about. Including something I firmly believe: that my soul is immortal and after this life there is something else, much better, close to God. So my actions are not indifferent. I also believe that I’ll see again my loved ones who are gone. Because love doesn’t die either.

Back to my early reaction. I remember as a child wishing to die the day of the last judgment, because I didn’t want to have my body rotting in a grave.  I thought I was going to stay conscious and feel all that process as if I had been alive. I was terrified and had nightmares. My dad asked me what was the matter, and he explained me how things are so I stopped thinking that way and never had those nightmares again.

I also remember that when I was small I had something wrong in my leg, so I fell down often while playing in school. Once I asked my teacher why older people didn’t fall. She answered because if they fell they would die. Of course I believed her blindly. Next Sunday, we were going for a walk with my parents. My brother and I went ahead running down the stairs from the sixth floor where we lived to wait for my parents at the door of the building. Suddenly we hear a noise and saw my father’s cigarettes falling through the hole of the stairs. Obviously he had fallen. Then we hear my mom’s voice laughing. I thought horrified How my mom could laugh when my dad had died?.

When we saw both of them coming down smiling and talking, I realised my teacher had deceived me. My father had fallen And he had not died. My mom was laughing because nothing happened and the situation was funny.

Finite Creatures.



More smiles

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Good news — another hour has just been added to every 24-hour day (don’t ask us how. We have powers). How do you use those extra sixty minutes?

What would I do with more time at my disposition? Probably the same I’m doing now but more calmly. I spend most of my time  taking care of my mom. With one more hour a day, I’ll have more time to tend her. More hours, more time with mom. That would be great, because I think each instant of her life is a treasure in my hands. Now that she needs me, I’m trying to make her life as comfortable as possible despite her limitations. I try to give her all the care and love she gave me when I needed. We have our hard moments, with pain, discouragement and tears. But she is strong and is at peace. And I try to ease her pain and discomfort as much as possible. Her smiles, her kisses, and her old style blessings doing a little cross in my forehead with the only hand she can move, are my best pay. More time, more smiles, more blessings.

Twenty-Five Seven.




What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

I get scared easily. I hate rats and snakes. I flee from them and look for help. No way to  try something by myself.

I hate violence even discussions. I have been in some dangerous, violent situations because of my work as a journalist and my experience says that when you are in a danger somehow you find strength to stay calm and act wisely. When the danger is over you can’t even figure out how you did it. I do believe in guardian angels and I’m sure my angel was by my side in those situations keeping me calm and safe. You can read about why I believe in guardian angels here.

I’m scared of weapons. Luckily I’m living now in a safe and peaceful environment and I don’t have to worry about them.

I even get scared every day taking care of my paralysed mom because I’m afraid to hurt her when I’m helping her with my unprofessional hands. But I’m doing it out of love.

Daily Prompt: Fright Night.


My parents


Your personal sculptor is carving a person, thing, or event from the last month of your life into the glistening marble of immortality. What’s the statue and what makes it so significant?

A personal sculptor? what an idea! Even you are extremely rich and pretentious to have one or you think something in your life is worth being immortalized. None of the above applies to me.

The last month of my life I have taken care of my mother. A remarkable, courageous, good, very old and sick woman. She had a very hard life plenty of adventures in her youth during the WWII and after that under communist prosecution. She had to struggle a lot to endure a forced separation from her husband for 12 years. She was faithful and they reunited. Then she raised a family with five children. That makes me think that if I really have to commission a sculpture would be one of my parents.

And why of my parents and not just my mother? Because the life of both my parents was impressive in the extraordinary and ordinary circumstances of their life. Because they loved each so much, they cannot be apart from each other a single day. When they were forcibly separated in their youth and they finally could establish some contact by clandestine mail my father propose to my mother to pray each day at the same hour the Rosary for each other. And they did. For all those years they knew each day they were at the same time praying together despite being physically separated. When they reunited they were able to live together without problems after such a long separation because of that union in prayer, they said.

After that, when they restarted the family life, they never separated again. They loved each other so much. They taught us to love. My dad passed away long time ago. My mom talk to him every day and hopes to meet him in heaven where there will be no more good byes and they will be together for the eternity.

It would be cruel to separate them in a statue. And besides, I miss see them together so much! This is why I would commission a statue of my parents, young and happy, waking together as they used to do.

Daily Prompt: Michelangelo’s YOU.
More statue posts on the next page:




file0001229516358You experience your own Freaky Friday, and switch bodies with someone you love/hate. Tell us what happens.

I’m laying in bed unable to move. I would like to because I can’t resist any more my back ache from being too much time in the same position. My limbs don’t obey my brain. They are like sand bags attached to my body. I need help. But I don’t want to wake up Mom or anybody in the house. I try to resist. I’m anxious. Why can’t I move? This is a nightmare. I can see everything around me. I can feel everything, but I can’t move an inch. And this pain is killing me. I get anxious. I’m sweating.

– Somebody, help me!. Help, please!


– I need help!, please, help!

I hear noises. somebody is approaching. I can’t see who is coming because I can’t turn myself to face the door. I hear steps entering the room. Somebody touches my arm gently.

– I’m here.

She walks around the bed and stays in front of me. She looks a lot like mom. She looks tired and sleepy. I feel sorry for her and guilty.

– I’m sorry, but…

– Don’t be. I’ll help you.

She seems to know what I need although I don’t understand. She pushes my upper body and pulls the sheets to make me turn to the other side. That hurts. Then she arranges my legs and finally covers me and kisses me. When she finishes I feel relieved.

– Thank you. what time is it?

– Three

– Oh my God! Go to bed. You have to rest.

– No. YOU have to rest. Call me if you need me.

I don’t understand. My head is working as fast as ever. I know what’s coming after this if I’m not in a nightmare.  I’ll have to wait for someone to come to me to wash me, to clean me. I’ll be so ashamed. I’ll need help to eat, to sit in the wheelchair, to go to bed, to read to…everything.

I’m now facing the door, and while I watch mom exiting the room, tears are filling my eyes. I cry silently. I don’t want her to know I’m crying. She is so brave in her situation. I need her courage, but I don’t have it. I’m alone again. Please, dear God help my mom, help me. I feel the pillow moist with my tears. I’m falling asleep. Please, dear God…

via Daily Prompt: Freaky Friday.

More Freaky Fridays in the next page: