Memoir
The Strongest Man I Ever Knew Was My Mother.
Twelve years after her death, a son learns who his mother truly was.
There are certain truths about our parents that arrive far too late. They do not arrive when we are children because children are incapable of seeing them. They do not arrive when we are young adults because youth has a habit of mistaking sacrifice for normalcy. They arrive much later, often after time has already taken away the person we wish to thank.
It has been twelve years since my mother passed away. For most of those twelve years, I believed I was grieving her absence. Now I realize I was also learning who she truly was.
