REMEMBERING MY TWO MOTHERS

Photos of my mother parvatham in green 9 yds madi saree l and MIL

Bhagavathy in normal brown saree
My mother epitome of supreme human being

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my Mil who filled the vacuum in my life after my mother demise just2 months
after my marriage in Oct 31,1986 to ambuj. My affectionate mother's love w
pure, my wonderful,l lovely MIL‘s love was priceless
She fought the dreaded disease breast cancer with fortitude, cheer and hope
for 4 years which cemented my love and affection like quick fix emulsion
Suma ,i will write about them and post in your messenger tomorrow

On the occasion of the mother’s day

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1. K.S PARVATHAM AMMAL – my mother

2.V. BAGHAVATHY – my mother in law who filled the void space of

my mother in my life

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STRENGTH OF SACRIFICE

1. K.S PARVATHAM AMMAL – my mother

K.S. Parvatham Ammal died at the age of 71,during December

1986, two months after my marriage , the improtanat milestone for
which she seems have held her breath, after devoting a lifetime
towards her home and family. She belonged to the generation of
woman for whom sacrifice came before self. The World War II
generation is often hailed as the greatest generation in recognition of
the enormous sacrifices the men and women of that era were asked to
make.
My mother, Paravatham who died 26 year ago at the age of 71
was nearly a life long resident of Pattamadai - Kalakad in Tirunelveli
District, where the live river Tambarabarni flows throughout the
season. She migrated to Bombay for fulfilling her duties to her
children in late fifties in quest of her children’s higher education. She
will remain a true representative of that generation in my view and all
the reasons why it was called the greatest.
Her life was neither extraordinary in any way nor even remotely
connected to the larger events of the day; nor, her sacrifice of historic
magnitude. When war was raging else where, she was a young wife
and mother who lived with her husband’s close knit, tradition bound,
puritanical, priestly joint family, which she embraced as her own. And
the sacrifices she made were of the ‘everyday kind’, like giving up
something here and something there so that other could benefit. The
women of her generation were ones who were accustomed to making,
without questions.

Like most women of her time, my mother was raised to believe

that the needs of others came first. The idea of pampering oneself,
something that women of my generation claim as ‘their right’, would
have been dismissed by her right away even if it did occur to her.

My maternal grand mother was the epitome of strength; her

contributions in educating her sons were noteworthy. Not
withstanding the trauma, pain of arthritis and rheumatism, which
crippled her movements, she managed to educate all her three sons,
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who were the first in our family structure to acquire a degree. As has
been the tradition my mother, the eldest in the family took care of
domestic chores. She was equally responsible for motivating,
encouraging and supporting her brothers to pursue higher education
though she herself was a primary school drop- out.
At age of 13, she married my father a Vedic priest with great
aspirations and even greater talents. My father migrated to Bombay
along with his younger brother and was working as a chief priest of
Ram Mandir at Matunga, acting as the sole breadwinner of not only
my family but also his brother’s family. In 1953, with the blessings of
His Holiness Jagadguru Sree Sankaracharya Swamigal of Kanchi
Kamakoti Peetam, the Asthika samaj Temple attained its full-fledged
status by installation of idols of Lord Sree Ramachandra, Sitadevi,
Lakshmanan and Hanuaman in a specially created Garbagriha. The
big Banyan tree outside the temple is believed to having fulfilled the
desires of the devotees.
Back at a time when even a rupee went a long way, his measly salary
as temple priest had to travel that extra mile to provide for 14 people
(me, my 2 brothers, 2 sisters, 3 uncles, his brothers family of 3
persons and 3 of my mothers brothers) My mother managed the
family budget with the remittances he made and managed her family
of 5 children meticulously, without resorting to regular borrowings. .
She bought a rental house at Pattamadai so that her children and her
brothers could pursue higher, quality education where renowned
Rama Sesha Iyer High School was located. She also accommodated
two of her family friend’s sons who had come to take high school
education in that house.

Prior to this, my mother assumed the eldest daughter- in- law of

the joint family, responsible to the fulfillment of the needs and
welfare of her husband’s parents, some of his siblings and their
children as well. This role and the new reality that came with it – she
accepted graciously. In return she earned the love and respect of every
one in her new family. The warmth and kindness were extended to her
side of the family as well.

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 Through these initial years of hardship this young woman stood
solidly; encouraging her brothers and all her children to pursue
modern education. At the same time she managed to maintain equal
chord and harmony in holding closely the ties with her elderly in-
laws’ at Kalakad.
All this of course, did not mean that she was a meek woman. My
mother was a woman of grit which was particularly evident during
trying situations when kith and kin became ill and needed care. She
was not the kind who would be afraid to take care of several tasks at
once. She never winced at work, her own or that of others, thrust on
her. With the stewardship of an army general, marshalling her measly
resources, she ran a large house hold of her own that at times included
the extended family of relatives and friends as well.

In the early fifties when my eldest brother completed his SSLC,

she directed him to shift to Bombay, and search for a job.
Ardent devotees of the Ram Temple, who had profound respect for
the Chief priest (my father), helped my brother in getting a mediocre
job. My brother was unable to cope up with the tedium, poise, the
stress and strain, of urban life. Nor did he exude confidence in his job.
My father use to receive complaints from his bosses who are also
devotes of the temple that his son his bland in his job. Emaciated,
weather beaten, unable to overcome persecution with confidence my
brother returned to Patamadai. My mother continued her sincere
tireless, purposeful mission of arranging for a job to my brother. She
wept at the shoulders of all and sundries at Pattamaadai, imploring
them to arrange for a job to his son. . Recognizing, the ordeals of my
mother and respecting her sincere mission, her close friend Mrs. Pahi
mami represented my brother’s case to her husband Mr. Chellappa
Iyer who held a managerial post in a multinational bank at Bombay.
He arranged for a servant pass to my brother for undertaking the
journey to Bombay. Mr. Chellappa Iyer not only used his clout to
arrange for a decent job to my brother in a multinational Bank but
also ensured that he is at peace with his work. In a months time my
brother lived up to the expectations of his superiors and his
confidence with the job made satisfactory progress ,resulting in he
being confirmed into the services of the bank. With the additional

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income, of my brother supplementing the family, and sigh of relief of
his confirmation in the bank job my father conserving his savings
dared to buy a tenement under the Bombay Housing Board allotment
scheme at an obscure suburb called Chembur. A little about the then
situation at Chembur. Chembur was not part of the city. There was
single line rail connection from Kurla but it was not connected to
main line. There was no govt. milk supply. No BEST service.
But still my mother decided to shift her family to Bombay. Frugality
was a way of life for her. She shifted the entire household articles,
including the ‘Ammi’ and ‘Attukal’ (grinding stones), carrying me
(the youngest child of the family) in her arms from Pattamadai to
Bombay undertaking the tiresome third class steam engine travel. In
spite of the fact that it was her maiden trip to Bombay she made us at
ease through out the journey. During the 4-day travel, not even a
single naya paisa was spent on buying food from outside as she
managed to pack home made foods to last the entire journey.

In Bombay too her day would typically be filled with chores she
did or supervised; supplying endless cups of freshly brewed coffee to
visitors who came to our house, sending fresh, home cooked
breakfast, lunch and dinner to just about anybody known to her (if
they were in need) and my father. She was always being prepared to
offer food and a variety of snacks at a moment’s notice to a stream of
visitors, guests that included relatives and my friends. Right from
cleaning the washbasins, toilets in the early morning, brooming and
mopping the floors, arranging for my father’s pooja materials,
cleaning the pooja room, making Idli batter for next day in a hand
grinder, to sprinkling bleaching powder in kitchen sink and bathroom
at night was single handedly carried out by her. In addition to this her
outdoor chores included daily procurement of quality vegetables and
provisions from the market bargaining for the ‘fair price’, she decides.
She carried the vegetable and provisions load without escorts or
coolies. She developed her own Hindi-Marathi-Tamil dialect with
vendors and she was very popular with them. Whenever I used to
cross the market along with her most of the vendors will greet her as
‘Amma”. She was a true intrepid human dynamo, who never ever
whispered the word tired. Her greatest talent was that she could cook

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a variety of delicacies for more than 100 people without any
assistance during functions and festivals. Even while attending
functions of friends /relatives she would radiate cheer and trespass
into their kitchen seizing the initiative from them and with élan and
ease finish the preparation of food marking that occasion, before the
scheduled time. She was a source of comfort to many families and
friends in this regard.

Her manner was direct. She spoke her mind. When it came to
expressing an opinion- and her opinions were sought frequently –her
single pointedness came clear. Taking on the welfare of others was
rather a second nature to her. In a 300-sqft asbestos-roofed housing
board tenement she provided space, time, comfort and inspiration to,
my uncles, my cousin brother (who she insisted should join her in
Bombay for his job placements), me and my siblings and also other
relatives. All the members of the large but closely-knit family were
treated uniformly with equal love and care for each.

During these years through his own remarkable tale of hard work,
tenacity and winning ways without striking compromise on principles,
my father saw that fortunes of my family rose meteorically as he
managed to arrange for a decent job for my elder brother also,
exerting his divinely influence on men in responsible position who
can throw their weight.

Balancing the saving in the bank account he decided to buy an

ownership flat at Chembur and we moved to spacious house. Even
though her life now was much more comfortable, my mother never
forgot where she came from and remained the same simple, selfless
person that she had been earlier. And this “forgiving and giving
spirit” of hers helped many in the community. Together with my
father she became a nurturing and guiding force for a new generation
of my nieces, nephews who continue to cherish fond memories of her.

My father had an athletic build and countenance that exuded a

sublime charm and tejas. A rudrakasha mala around his neck, a deep
Vermillion tilak on his forehead and a sprawling long kudumi made
him look divinely intense and ‘tejaas. The family members and his
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friends hugely respected him for his sage advice on various issues and
fair pronouncement in matters of dispute.

Protesting against the freakish behaviour, under the guise of good

managements by the managing trustees , who exercised disguised
hegemonic control and exhibited expansionist designs in hijacking the
serenity of this place , commercializing it ,by planning installation
other idols , against the basic tenets of its founding objects , to satiate
their own greed and personal power My father quit the temple job. He
loathed commercialization of temple by the Samaj authorities. He
often lamented for performing, ‘archanas’, of the hundreds of
devotees in a specified morning and evening hours against his
conviction as he had to take often short cut routes to please them for
he could not chant the full ‘shlokas’ of repeating each devotee’s
‘Gothram’ and ‘nakshtram’ and in whose name he had to perform.
Nor did he prefer to earn undertaking ritualistic tasks of the
community even though he was much sought by well-wishers and
religious heads in our community, as he hated commercialization of
Vedic profession. He was a great Sanskrit scholar, mastering the
‘Grantham scripts’ and all Vedas, slokas and Shastras. But he never
believed in astronomy and man gods.

During the time my father worked for the temple he too used to
visit home only once in two to three days, as there were no transport
services from Chembur to Matunga in those days at 3.a.m, which was
the time he would return home after performing the “Ganapathy
pooja”. Even if he did come home braving all odds, it was too late in
the night when he would reach home. At that hour of the day I used to
be asleep. Even when he would leave the next day to resume his
duties at the temple, it used to be too early in the morning for me to be
up. He would leave early enough to catch the crowded first
Ambernath local to Matunga, walking all the way from chembur to
Kurla station (3 k.m walk) following the railway track and all the
while I would still be asleep. My father having been somewhat a rebel
himself saw no point in preaching conformity nor did he expect from
me.

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**********
I am the youngest of their 5 children. Coming of age in the
‘opinion filled’ 1960’s; my ideas were shaped by the so called
“Radical (?) Philosophies”. I for one often looked things differently
from my mother, father, brothers and sisters. “Generation gap”, a
catch phrase back then, defined our relation. I fought to have my way
in every thing. I got a decent job on completing my degree (first in my
family) I pursued trade union philosophy instead a building a career in
the Bank. I was mostly away from home and I used to visit my
parents as per my sweet will and desire. To my surprise my mother
never opposed vehemently, my life style but was worried that I
missed good home food. She would prepare my share of food
everyday irrespective of whether I went home or not. While I used to
lead morchas in the vicinity of our locality at Chembur raising full-
throated slogans on behalf of few organizations that I and my close
knit friends formed from time to time, espousing some trade union or
social cause, my mother, (if she accidentally happen to locate me
during her outdoor work) would trespass and wade through the crowd
without any inhibitions or prejudices to just tell me “today I have
prepared your favorite dish. Do come home.”

She did oppose many of my plans but she also agreed to meet me
half way, which meant that she had to re-evaluate some of her
convictions. I did many things I wanted to, independently and small
victories gave me enough heady feeling. Her greatest satisfaction was
my marriage to a girl of her liking and choice. . My wife was the
grand daughter of my father’s sister who died at prime of age. My
mother sympathized with the plight of my mother- in- law who had
seen vicissitudes of good and evil fortunes. More over my wife was
reared in my fathers elder brother’s(Periyappa) family which
symbolized true Vedic shastars as my “periyappa” practiced
‘agnihothra’(3) despite facing broken marriages of his daughters, true
to his convictions. ”. His sonorous rendering of Vedas would resonate
throughout the house, infusing it with an aura of divinity.

The story of this agnihotri’s first two daughters is a lachrymose tale

of unproductive, battered, shattered married life, tragic separations at

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the early stage and therefore having no siblings. His third daughter
was married to an academic scholar, B.A in those days, a good high
school teacher. a close relative, who lost his wife at the early years,
But he suffered a paralytic stroke after just few years of his married
life and she was taking care of him till the rest of his life, running
from pillar to post for his treatments. She also did not have any
children. But these cousin sisters of mine nurtured and nourished
many siblings in our family tree. I am told that the’ thottil’ (cradle)
which had swinging cribs or 'thooli' ( - a hammock that's hung from
the ceiling rather than a stand. to help the baby sleep, also called in
India as Ghodiyu or ghodiya pronounced it as "God-yu")was
swinging continuously like one’s heart beat or as the agni of that
sacred, serene agnihothri’s house for many years. That his last son
completed his Graduation in First Class Honors brought the much
awaited cheers in their otherwise not so blissful life. He came to
Bombay in search of a job and got a good placement because of their
blessings in a multinational pharmaceutical firm. He stayed with us
till his marriage to my Periyappa’ first sister’s( my “Athai” ) third
daughter who was working with a Nationalized Insurance firm.

Despite being a rationalist I will evaluate My ‘Periyappa’ to be

above all the Shankaraacharya’s of that time and of today for his
simplicity, serenity, satvic principles and his utter devotion to Vedic
science and philosophy. My wife was a balance mixture of spirituality
and modernity. My mother- in -law and my wife filled the vacuum in
my life caused due to my mother’s death vindication of my mothers
correct choice and acceptance.

A week after my marriage on 31-10-1986 my mother had her

second paralytic stroke. Just a year ago she had the first stroke.
Demonstrating will power and courage she fought the attack boldly
and squarely and resumed her household chores defying medical
advice. Though I could visualize the onset of another paralytic attack
on the day of my marriage itself, she pretended to put a brave face,
suppressing the symptoms just to ensure that my honeymoon plan
doesn’t get aborted. Since my in laws were employed, my wife
accompanied me in the morning on my onward journey to my office. I

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use to drop her at our Chembur house to be with my ailing mother
and assist my father throughout the treatment period of my mother,
which of great solace to them. . Since I used to go home late , after
attending to my mother for the full day , after my sister in laws return
form work, she learned to go to Nerul independently after catching a
state transport bus from Chembur in the evenings To go to my house
at Nerul to attend to our usual house hold chorus.

In her waning years, her bones and joints had become too fragile
and left her bed ridden, crutches dependent and was in chronic pain,
indeed a punishment for a women known for feisty spirits. Her body
could no longer keep pace with her mind, which was still over drive.
And yet, she never stopped practicing her own unique brand of loving
and caring.

Her body gradually ravaged by series of debilitating ailments,

tiresome, painful treatments, that the best and most compassionate
care could not do much about and overcome by unbearable pain, my
mother Parvatham (mountain ) finally gave away in her battle to live,
in a government hospital. She is greatly missed by children and grand
children.

While my initial reaction was to lament the cruel blow fate has
dealt our family, robbing us of two generations of guidance I
remembered the following story:
“A man with deep devotion and faith in God dies and finds himself
walking along a beach; His life’s events flash in front of him and
parallel to this, he finds two sets of footprints (his and God’s); He
thanks God for being with him throughout his life; but then he notices
that during difficult times of his life, there are only one set of
footprints; When he meets his Maker, he bitterly complains of
abandonment during difficult times; God smiles and says: My silly
child, those are My prints, for, it was I who was carrying you on my
shoulders during those periods!
Amma, wherever you are, I am sure, the selfless and devoted mother
in you is constantly blessing us and praying for the welfare
of all; If I could emulate your qualities even in the tiniest bit, I will

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sure turn out to be a better person; May God bless every child with
a mother like you! May He rest your soul in peace! I will celebrate
your life than mourn your passing away; You will constantly remain
in my thoughts; I will miss you though Ma “

On the occasion of the first death anniversary of my close friend

Sharma–a friend par excellence, while inaugurating the Madhuram
Applam factory, which he launched, designed and worked for it
wherein Sharma’s mother (a replica of my mother) , a native of
Thrvaiyar , the place where the carnatic classical maestro Thyagaraja
was born and lived. – participated, shared the dias, overpowering her
emotions and tears, a new realization was dawned on me, as I could
see my mother in her. :
“Though the merciless fire consumes mortal remains, the
intrinsic, inane, human qualities and love of a mother and
their memory engraves in our heart for eternity- as Mothers
do not expire. They inspire.”

After my mother death my father went through bouts of depression

for a prolonged period. With me migrating to Nerul separating from
the joint family soon after the marriage, others in my house employed,
he felt too lonely in the house. Six years after my mother death i.e.
during January 1992 he died of paralytic stroke like my mother. I was
with him through out his period of hospitalization doing three shifts,
as I did to my mother, and he died, before my eyes like my mother,
with none of my family members around. He was very happy and
proud that I was nominated as the Director of the bank representing
workmen by the Government in 1991. Because of this elevation,
seeing me dropped by the Banks’ vehicle during Board Meetings,
finally, he appreciated my consistency in union work. . During the
period of his hospitalization before going to coma stage he was in
profuse praise for the principles I hold in union and social life. , above
all being helpful to others in times of need, albeit the fact remains, I
did not raise to his expectations neither spiritually nor materially.

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2. .V. BHAGAVATHY- MY MOTHER IN LAW ( MOTHER LIKE )

Mothers-in-law have a special status in our society, though sadly

not an elevated one. We’re all familiar with the stereotype of the
meddling, domineering or just plain cranky old woman with chin
hairs who functions mainly as a punch line. My mother-in-law does
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not conform to this archetype in any way. I was fortunate to have an
amazing mother in law. This narrative cannot become complete
without mentioning her. She filled the Vacuum created in our lives
after my mother’s death soon after my marriage. My mother in law
was my father’s sister’s daughter. She lost her mother at a young age.
Hence my Periyyapa arranged for marriage of his third daughter, one
of my cousin sister then aged 86 now at Kalakad, often referred by
me in this narrative, to her father. My mother in law’s father was a
very progressive person during that period, a B.A, honours graduate,
and was the founder, as well as the principal of the Muslim school in
the agraharam (a name given to the Brahmin quarters of
heterogeneous village area). He was drawing Rs.106-10-12 during
1950’s which today will be equivalent around one lacs. My mother in
law was brought by him with love and care. Her marriage was
performed for three days with pomp and grandeur at Kalakad attended
by scores of Muslims in that area. But she had a disarrayed, married
life. Her husband took to alcohol and the family suffered. Just before
my mother death ,I brought her to Mumbai to take care of mother in
case she is discharged from the hospital. But, sadly! That was not to
be. Fed up the treatment meted out her after her husband’s death by
close relatives, she decided to stay with us. She was indeed a lovely
women acknowledged by all my friends. Ambuj was singularly
fortunate to be her mother while after marriage girls go to their
mother-in-law’s house .She created, caring and much needed space to
Ambuj and Divya when I am away from family for prolonged period
after becoming General Secretary of the union. She was a fine,
cheerful human being, radiating hope and energy when I needed.
She referred to her deceased friends as being “in heaven,” as if they
had just stepped into the next room. She does not live in the past. She
was reading every day’s Tamil news paper and use make noting in her
diary. She never use to miss important serial in TV. Though she could
not understand Marathi .She liked watching humorous Marathi
pictures in Zee Talkies Marathi channel, and appreciated it. Life for
her is an adventure. Her sense of humor was marvelous. She has
never interfered in our lives. She does her thing and we do ours and
she never condemned us for doing things that we enjoy.

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 In the late 90′s, she was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer.
Her breast cancer was not diagnosed until after she had developed
visible lesions of terminal stage. She was admitted at Sion hospital
and I was with her, throughout her treatment period. In recognition of
my efforts and concern shown to her treatment, the nurses in the Sion
hospital permitted me meet her and be with her when needed in the
ladies ward even at night as a special case. We did not inform any of
our relatives, including her mother and other children about her
disease through out the period of her treatment. Thereafter she was
administered chemotherapy at Sion hospital and spot radiation at Tata
Memorial Hospital She was able to bravely fight the disease for four
and half years time with the aid of strong pain killers and other
palliatives.

I brought her second daughter who was married to another caste to

Mumbai for her delivery. Her son was a psychiatric patient. I brought
him to Mumbai and found a job placement for him in a nearby
factory. But as he developed more and more psychiatric
complications I took him for treatment with Dr. Sharada Menon - a
pioneer psychiatrist at Chennai who brought sweeping reforms in
mental health in India. He was administered Electroconvulsive
therapy (ECT), (formerly known as electroshock) ten times. the
treatment lasted for a month. During this treatment period I taught
him cooking, English speaking and Yoga. I was fortunate that my
Chairman & Managing Director agreed to my request and appointed
him as a peon in IOB soon after his treatment. In three years time he
became a clerk. All these things happened during the treatment period
of my mother in law for caner. Two months before her death we could
arrange for suitable match to my brother in-law and the marriage took
place at Sankaran Koil. I and Ambuj took the guardian role in his
marriage. Today they are well settled with two school going kids. .

I draw great satisfaction that I could take my mother in law to

Varanasi, Hrishikesh , Haridwar , Agra , Mathura and other important
places in its vicinity before cancer made her immobile . During this
tour I came know more of her and we developed inseparable bond of
love and respect for each other. She was great inspirer to all us and
my friends .She won their hearts with her sweet smile.
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 A beautiful life got suddenly extinguished at the young age of 59
due to the late detection of the killer disease. But it cannot extinguish
the aroma that she radiates in ones memories. The pain I suffer often
due swinging mood syndromes, sudden bouts of mental depression
and the treatments I undergo , while in solitude seems so
insignificant, compared to what she must have faced on that fateful
day.

I still remember the first day I met her, which was the day of my
marriage. The sparkle and brightness that radiated from her childlike
face, never dimmed through all the torturous years of struggles,
excruciating pains she has undergone in her married life. The same
bubbly spirit, the same dynamism, and the same active and sharp
mind of youth, remained till the very end. The purity of her soul, her
deep commitment to my well being never allowed her to be
weighed down by any kind of hardship—physical or mental. That is
why the wear and tear of life could not extinguish her charm and
exuberance. It was only the deadly and incurable breast caner which
struck her, that suddenly resulted in her ageing overnight.

Though her face grew drawn, she never allowed the disease to
destroy her spirit. The fire for a full life, did not diminish, even an
iota. Till her very last day, from six in the morning to twelve at night
she was continuously on the move— praying ,dressing up Divya ,
reading, diary noting , cooking and cleaning herself and above all
being at ease with my friends , some of whom stayed overnight in my
house after hectic political discussions. . . Though the disease was
slowly eating away her organs—her lungs, her kidneys, her heart—
and crippling her mobility , she knew no rest. Even her arthritic knees,
which grew more and more painful, did not stop her climbing stairs,
and joining me for a tour to religious places in the north which
included an half an hour trek to Neel kanth in Rishikesh .

The same simplicity, straight forwardness. childlike innocence

remained permanent with her. Her face was a reflection of her
emotions—unable to lie, manipulate others or indulge in intrigue.
Besides, her ability to bond with all my friends and union colleagues,
—from the simplest slum dweller, peon in my office, union members
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in distress to topmost intellectuals, who visited my house often, is
indeed legendary. She had the beauty of innocence, yet maintaining
the sharpness dynamism of a professional. It is this combination that
gives her eternal fragrance. It is nearly a decade she died, yet her
fragrance lingers on. The sweet scent like from an eternal blossom
intoxicates my mind with memories of her vivacious and loving spirit.
So all things considered, I was fortunate to have a good mother-
in-love .We do so many things in life in the wrong order. We sprinkle
salt on the driveway after the ice has formed. We eat dinner before
dessert .I didn’t want to wait to deliver her eulogy after she is gone.
Besides, I’d never be able to write this as a poem. I want to tell her
now.
“Your kindness has inspired me in more ways than one.
The time we shared meant so much to me and I had a lot of fun.
You taught me the true meaning of a mother's love.
You reminded me when I was in doubt to look up above.
Your strength is amazing through this hard time.
You're more than a mother-in-law; you're a best friend of mine”.

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