When I was 8 or 9, I woke up in middle of night feeling really sick and walked towards kitchen trying to get a cup of water.  Because I felt so weak, I fell on the kitchen floor and started crying. My mom heard me and rushed out of her room to rescue me.  I still remember my mom’s soft and warm hands on my face, but I do not remember the pain I was having that night. 

One day, I was bragging my intelligence in front of my friends on my way home from school.  I don’t know how, but she somehow heard me bragging from a block away.  That evening she scolded me that I needed to be more humble.  I still remember my mom’s concern for her son’s character, but I do not remember her nagging.  

Right before a dinner time, my younger brother and I were playing a make-believe battle with our friends on the streets.  I was probably only 5 and he was 3. Unfortunately, my younger brother got hit by a small rock on his forehead (someone threw a ‘rock’ hand grenade at him – apparently some kids took the battle too seriously) and started bleeding a lot. I was scared, left my brother on the street, and ran home to get mom. Everything turned out ok (well my brother got few stitches on his forehead), but my mom told me that I should’ve done all I could to take care of my baby brother.  I still remember my mom’s desire for her son to be responsible, but I do not remember her unreasonable expectation for that age. 

One day I came home from my school earlier than usual because I felt sick (well sort of – I guess I was trying to get a little break).  I was expecting mom to care for me that day, but she told me that she rather wanted to see her son to pass out in school (not literally, of course) instead of coming home because of feeling little dizzy. I still remember my mom’s teaching on not easily giving up, but I do not remember her being too strict. 

My mom survived breast cancer when I was in middle school.  However, when I became a freshman in college, cancer cells came back and spread to her lungs.  I came back home for my first year spring break and saw my weakened mom who lost all her beautiful hairs because she had to go through extensive chemotherapy treatment.   She had suffered for a couple more years and then went to be with the Lord.  I still remember my mom’s lifeless and yet peaceful face that I touched softly while crying and whispering to her ears how much I loved her, but I do not remember any hopeless despair that I would not see her again forever.  Because I know I will.

Thank you, Mom, for who you were and what you had done for me!  Happy Mother’s Day!  I will see you soon.

-David Bang-