Celebrating Mama

I’ve written a lot about my Mom in this blog. A lot of words can be used to describe a relationship, and for this one that we share, the word is trusting. Our trust in each other is borne out of respect for each other and a deep, deep love. It is borne out of understanding or in some situations, an effort to understand each other.

I owe a lot to Mama. She never clipped my wings even if I was flying in circles or heading towards wrong directions. She always gave me words of guidance but let me do my own flying. She was never overbearing. Sometimes she thought she was too lenient. I think it worked out pretty well though. Reverse psychology perhaps? It was because she trusted me enough that I aimed to take care of myself more responsibly. There were moments when that trust would be tested (pushing the curfew limits and other crazy stories), but in its own way trust would always win.

The piece that follows is one that I wrote four months after I got married. I’ve been married for almost four years now. I read this piece again and I realized how afraid I was that our relationship would change because of my new status. While I was afraid of the new journey married life would bring, I was very eager to start it as well! I realize now that the photograph I am pertaining to in this piece captures not only the intimacy of that moment when Mama and I were preparing for my wedding, but our relationship for the past four years as well — supportive, loving, trusting.

I am very grateful to my Mom for always standing beside me. She is a strong and beautiful woman with a passionate heart and a wonderful soul. She is a fantastic mother, and a true friend. I love her very much. Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!

A Mother’s Bride

There is a wedding photograph I have. It speaks a million words and elicits a million feelings. Only to me, though. It is a picture of me and my mother. I am standing a little to her right, in my wedding dress and my veil. My eyes are darted to the left, my lips are quite pursed, my chin is held up. My mother is dressed in her beautiful turquoise gown. Her eyes are on my veil, her lips seemingly moving, her hands arranging the white lace on my head. I could almost see the figures in the photograph move. I could almost hear them talk. Though no words were exchanged when that shot was taken, it is as if I can read what was in our minds that very moment.

“He better take care of you, baby.”
“I think I can do this. I know I can do this.”
“You can always come back to me if things don’t turn out well.”
“I’m gonna miss you so much.”
“Be a good wife. Be a good mother.”
“I’m happy and sad at the same time.”
“I am going to miss you.”
“Is this really happening?”

I have had a lot of pictures taken with my mother. Just her and me. That’s one of the perks of being the first-born. There’s a photograph of one-year-old me with my mother’s cascading locks nestled on my head to hide my awkward baldness. There’s one of me in a Mickey Mouse cap and overalls with my mother in her office suit, and we’re kissing each other goodbye before she heads off to work. And then there’s my college graduation picture, me with my almost arrogant smile and she with a smile of utmost pride. I love those photographs. They all radiate with warmth but they won’t surpass the sincerity of that wedding photograph I cherish so dearly.

It could be because it was a candid shot. It was a captured moment of true sincerity. It captured my mother wanting to shed some tears but controlling herself, because she knew she had to be calm for me that day. It captured my longing to stay with her, but my eagerness to start a life anew with the man I loved. It captured the intimacy that only my Mom and I share.

I’ve been married for four months now. I have that photograph tucked inside an envelope in my closet. I don’t think anyone else can see the real value of that photograph. It’s not the type of picture you put in a frame and show off to your friends. It’s a purely personal treasure. That captured moment best defined my relationship with my Mom — trusting and loving. I’m lucky I have a shot of that moment. That photograph is an eternal reminder of how beautiful our relationship is, and how deep our love is for each other.

“I can still come visit okay?”
“You’ll have a beautiful life together.”
“I love you Mama.”
“I love you my little rosebud.”

Hi! I'm Toni Tiu, and I've been blogging at at Wifely Steps since 2003. This started as a blog to help newly weds adjust to married life. It has evolved into a home and parenting blog. I write about things close to my heart -- good eats, good reads, family, marriage, and the little things that make everyday happy.