A Mother's Love Lives Forever

This is a story about a mother's love that lives forever even after she is long gone. Her love is eternal.

My mouth felt parched as I walked into the doctor's private office and slipped into a comfortable chair next to hers. This physician was not equipped with a stethoscope. He had a room crammed with devices and gizmos for analysing failed kids' learning capacities. He had analysed me that day.

A Mother's Love Lives Forever

He shuffled papers and used his forefinger to jab his wire-frame glasses. "I'm sorry to inform you, Mrs. Dow, but Peter suffers from dyslexia. This is a fairly serious case." I gulped and attempted to inhale. The doctor continued. "He will never be able to read beyond the fourth-grade level. Given his inability to fulfill high school requirements, I recommend enrolling him in a vocational school where he can learn to work with his hands."

I was opposed to attending trade school. I desired to follow in the footsteps of my father and become a pastor. My eyes welled up with tears, but I resisted them. Twelve-year-olds are incapable of crying. Mom ștood up, and I leaped to my feet as well. "I appreciate it, doctor," she stated. "Assemble, Peter." We drove home without exchanging many words. I was numb. Dyslexia? Until last week, I had never heard of the term.

True, I was consistently the slowest child in my class. I had a special hiding place behind a shrub during recess. There I would cry because I was unable to complete my classes regardless of how hard I tried. Of course, I never mentioned that aspect of school to my mother. I was too embarrassed. I also didn't want to worry her. She was preoccupied enough with teaching full-time and caring for Dad, my two brothers, my sister, and me.

Mom and I returned to the house ahead of the rest of the family. I was relieved. I desired some alone time. I removed my coat and hung it in the closet with my chin practically touching my chest. When I turned back, there stood my mum directly in front of me. She made no comment. She just stood there, tears streaming down her face, peering into my eyes. Seeing her cry broke my heart. I was in her arms weeping like a huge baby before I realised what was happening. After a few moments, she escorted me into the living room and seated me on the couch.

"Take a seat, honey. I'd like to speak with you." My sleeve massaged my eyes and I waited, tugging at the wrinkle in my trousers. "You heard what the doctor stated regarding your inability to complete your education. I have my doubts about him."

I ceased sniffling and fixed my gaze on her. Her gentle blue eyes met mine. Behind them was an implacable will "You and I will have to work extremely hard, but I believe we can do it. Now that I've identified the issue, we may attempt to resolve it. I'm planning to employ a tutor that is experienced with dyslexia. Evenings and weekends, I'll work with you personally." Her brows furrowed as she regarded me. "Peter, are you willing to work? Would you like to give it a shot?"

A glimmer of optimism pierced the cloudy future. "Yes, Mother. I desire genuine had." For both of us, the next six years were an endurance race. I worked with a tutor twice a week until I could read my lessons haltingly. Each night, my mother and I sat at my small desk and practised the following day's schooling for at least two hours, if not until after midnight. We drill until my head ached and the print blurred in front of my eyes. I considered quitting at least twice a week. My strength was that of a kitten, but my mother's courage was unwavering.

She'd rise early in the morning to pray for my school day. I overheard her say a thousand times, "Today, Lord, open Peter's thoughts. Assist him in recalling the information we discussed." Her vision encompassed more than the three Rs. I've won statewide speech competitions twice. I took part in educational programmes and acquired a licence to work as a radio announcer at a local station.

Then, during my senior year, my mother experienced debilitating migraines. She attributed her headaches to stress. On certain days, the excruciating agony forced her to stay in bed. Nonetheless, she'd come to my room in the evenings, dressed in her robe and holding an ice pack, to study with me. When I passed my senior finals, we laughed and sobbed. I spoke with my mum and father about Bible college two days before graduation. I desired to go but was fearful.

Mother stated, "Apply at our town's Bible Institute. You may remain at home, and I will assist you." I wrapped my arms around her and embraced her close, my throat filled with a baseball-sized lump. My mother experienced a sharp pain in her head a week after graduation. She briefly became disoriented but appeared to be well. She assumed it was another migraine and retired to bed. Dad attempted to awaken her that night. She was unresponsive.

A few hours later, we were töld by a white-coated doctor. Mom suffered a ruptured aneurysm. We were left with no hope after a huge hemorrhage. Two days later, she died. My anguish came dangerously close to drowning me. For weeks, I wandered the floor at night, occasionally weeping and occasionally staring at nothing. Was there a future for me without my mother? She was my vision, my comprehension, and my life. Should I continue attending Bible school? I was terrified at the prospect of continuing alone. However, I knew deep down that I needed to take the next step for her.

I sat in the chair at my small desk when I took home the first semester's books and course outlines. I opened my history book and began reading the first chapter with shaky fingers. I turned abruptly to the chair in which she used to sit. It was empty, yet my heart was brimming with joy.

Mom's prayers continued to follow me. I was aware of her presence. I was aware of her faith. In my graduation speech, I stated, "Numerous persons contributed to my achievement at Bible college. Tonight, the person who aided me the most is watching from Heaven. I say to her, "Thank you, Mom, for believing in God and believing in me. You will never leave my side.'