It is that time of the year again when social media will be awash with people celebrating their mothers, posting photos, appreciating them, and talking about how their mothers mean the world to them and how they sacrificed for them to be happy.
For the few years God gave you to me, I remember vividly how you would chase me around just to give me that sapatuoh. God, I was an active child. The food, the freedom, and I will never forget how you forcefully made me read all the books of the Bible in Luganda, actually singing them. I’m glad you did that because right now I just remember stories and all. I had a sick childhood, but I remember all those nights we were in the hospital.
Many years later, I keep on imagining what life would have been like if you were here. I admit I would still be the most active one, fuller of life. Oh, I forgot to tell you how you missed celebrating with me all my small wins; you missed the talks about my first boyfriend (maybe you would have beaten the hell out of me), and of course, you missed the break-up story too.
So every time I see people praising their mothers, I always wonder what today would be if you were listening to all my banter. Honestly, I cannot say I have experienced enough of your love; it is a void in my heart and life.
See how you missed seeing me in that white gown, grandchildren, and that husband who I would maybe be reporting every time; see me here winning in this world, but I keep on dedicating everything to God and you.
Dear mother, even though you are not here, I still celebrate you every day of my life. I’m not alone; you left me with loving aunties. They have loved me unconditionally. My father, your husband, has been the best in this world.
Oh gosh! I honestly hate mother’s day
