When I was about 5 or 6-years-old, I was in my first car accident. Since that day, I made a silent vow to my mom. A vow I would make many times over throughout the years ahead.
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To help improve my English, I went to a tutor after school once or twice a week. One afternoon, on our way there, I dropped my pencil in the car. My mom, being her usual loving and caring self, helped me look for it. Unfortunately, as soon as she turned her head away, our car ran up the curb and into a huge pine tree.
I don’t remember much of what happened afterward. I was probably in shock. What I do remember though is how I felt—guilt.
I felt guilty for causing the accident. I felt guilty for being so clumsy and for not waiting until we arrived before I told my mom about pencil. I felt guilty for the suffering my mom endured when my dad yelled at her for not being more careful, and for the pain my little sister and brother, ages 3 and 1 respectively at the time, felt for hearing my dad’s harsh words. What I felt most guilty about was not being able to protect my mom—from the verbal abuse, from her worrying about me getting hurt, and from the possibility of her getting severely hurt, or worse, death.
My mom recounted this accident story many years later, where I learned, luckily, we were both buckled in and the accident took place on a quiet residential street. And that the car front bumper and the tree bark were the only things scraped up.
However, ever since this accident though, I made a silent vow to my mom. A vow was— if my mom died, I would die with her.
I know this is a pretty intense promise to make for such a young child, but I wanted to protect my mom from harm and to keep her from suffering alone. This vow is one I would make many times over throughout the years ahead.
On March 26, my mom passed away. The day she died, a large part of me died with her. While I’m comforted now to know she’s no longer suffering and is protected by loved ones above, her death has had a huge impact on me—on every level. She wasn’t only my Mommy, but she was my mentor, my role model and my biggest supporter. This profound pain won’t ever go away, just easier to deal with as time passes.
As Buddhism taught me, however, with every ending, there is a beginning. While a large part of me died with her that day, her death also inspired me to become a better person. I believe my mom would have wanted her death to have a positive impact.
So, on this Mother’s Day, I make a new vow to my mom—To live life with courage and gusto, just as she had.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!
(It was later confirmed my mom's death was caused by pancreatic cancer.)
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