My Mother’s Care Arrives in Strange Forms

Dear Delyara, My mother doesn’t always know how to say what I need her to say. But she remembers everything. What I like. What day something hard happened. How I sounded last week. What kind of tea I drink when I’m unwell. What I forgot to bring. Which kind of silence means I’m not fine. Her love has not always arrived in the emotional language I wanted. Sometimes it arrived as worry, repetition, criticism, or a kind of practical over-involvement that felt heavy rather than soothing. But underneath all that, there was attention. And lately I’ve started recognizing attention as one of her deepest forms of care. That has softened something in me.