Oh, mother, how I miss you! You have left 53 years ago and I can still picture myself as that boy, crying because the lack of your presence.

I was not even 4 years old, when you were gone, leaving my father in the widowhood and me in the orphan hood.

Your absence triggered deep changes in my life.

It was not only a mother´s warmth that I was missing. I had also to leave my own home, to be raised by my grandmother and my godmother.

Everything changed. The stroke that took your physical life, have also frustrated my undisturbed little boy dreams.

When all my classmates complained about their mothers, I could only complain about the absence of mine.

I have tried to find you in many different mothers, longing for someone that could give me the motherly affection that I idealized.

In that one, which on the weekends used to receive me in her home, with her own son, I noticed that there was too much discipline.

I wanted to eat eggs, lots of eggs, because as a boy, I loved the taste of the soft yolks.

However, in that house there was a rule: no one could eat more than one egg.

Only one. Not because there was not enough, but because that lady was afraid of something called cholesterol.

I could not understand, but I knew that she would not be the one. Because my mother would allow me to satisfy my little boy greedy desires.

In another one, which has received me in a happy holiday, I thought I had found a mother.

However, I soon figured out, when I wanted to have free time to rest, that there existed another rule: the work.

And a heavy work: weed the whole yard. And my little boy memory recalls that it was huge, almost never-ending.

Surely, my true mother would allow me to rest, enjoying leisure and would also hold me into her arms for a very long time.

Oh mother, how much I have missed you during the school parties, when everybody´s mothers were present but mine; in the school victories, in the honor prizes receptions, when other mothers celebrated applauding their kids, but not mine; during Mother's Day celebrations, when everyone made cards, gifts for their mothers and could surprise them with those, I could not.

How much I have wished your hugs. How many nights I have cried your absence.

I learned that life goes on beyond death. But, if it was so, why you were not coming to hug me, breaking the barriers between the invisible and the material worlds?

Yes, I had a grandmother´s affection, to warm me up. But I did want a mother´s lap.

Grandma did everything she could, given her age and her possibilities.

If my whish was to eat bread with cheese and butter. Grandma used to tell me I was supposed to choose: one or other.

And I used to think: If it was my true mother, I would eat them both.

I have idealized you always more beautiful and more tender than my own memories would recall.

I have waited for you every night and day during my lonely growth, defeating the childhood, teenage hood, and adulthood years.

Then, after 53 years, you appear to me proving that life does not die and that affection does not fade.

You appear beautiful, educated and wise to use from my abilities as a medianimic vase, filtering your messages.

And what you write through my hands, for me, your son, and for all the other mothers' sons, softens the constant pain of missing you.

So I thank God for your absence in the past, which have made me a moral fortress; and for your presence next to me in the present hours, when you draw enlightening paths through my hands.

Thank you, God, for my mother.

            Spiritist Moment  Team, based  on real
 life facts of the spiritist speaker Raul Teixeira.
November 30.2009.