My Mommila

I want to tell you the story about my Mom— Mommila. What did she teach me? Simple.

Love.

Mommila is the epitome of Love.

Having grown up in the Midwest within a culture of poverty, Mommila worked tirelessly to make sure that even though our neighbors and children around us had very little, there was never a shortage of an abundance of Love. I was a kiddo with what you’d call “odd quirks” like select mutism, anxiety, OCD and all were untreated and undiagnosed. It was the 80s— so, what was a mother to do? She had two other children older than me. So, she stayed home, my dad worked nights, and we struggled to make ends meet because Love was what I’d needed even though I didn’t know what was going on with me— Mommila loved me unconditionally even when society didn’t.

Mommila loved me when I didn’t have a single friend until I turned age ten.

Mommila loved me when I couldn’t speak, but wanted to.

Mommila loved me when I’d cry myself to sleep for fear of contamination, or doing the wrong thing.

Mommila loved me when I didn’t love me because everyone said I was weird fat, poor, or ugly.

Mommila always loved me.

As I aged, and I wanted more, Mommila knew more existed for me— always my biggest cheerleader, she believed in me.

Mommila was there when I enrolled in college with a .5 GPA and needed remedial basic Math and English.

Mommila believed in me when I shared my dreams— I said, “I want to help people; people like me.”

Mommila stood beside me as I graduated with not one, but two, and three degrees.

Mommila said I could open a private practice, when I wasn’t sure that I believed.

Mommila supported me through every up and every down, and was there when I became a Mommila to my own babies.

Mommila was always there when I was lost— I was always found.

Mommila showed me how to love, and love endlessly. But, Mommila also showed me what loving others more than yourself can do to you.

It can kill you.

July 19th, 2019 my sweet Mommila passed away from a broken heart. My dad had passed four years before, a loss so grave, her heart could not sustain. Though Mommila loved deeply, beyond measure, and gave more than she ever had— a culture of poverty could not be escaped. Ultimately, she sacrificed the biggest sacrifice of all in the name of love— which was loving others more than loving herself.

Mommila’s death has wrecked me, as trying to navigate this life with 2 young children in my mid-30s without my parents is no easy chore. But, Mommila’s death has opened my eyes to so much— how grateful I am to have learned to love like her, and how if not for her loss, I’d never have learned the value of loving myself, first.

That, to love myself IS to love others. I cannot be the best version of me if I pour from any empty cup. I cannot love with my all if I don’t love myself with my all. Mommila’s passing has forced me to unlearn and relearn what love is and how I can love better.

Nonetheless, Mommila is the epitome of love and I say that in present tense because Love is infinite— it does not adhere to the rules of space and time. If not for Mommila’s love? I wouldn’t be here dedicating my life to sharing Love. And, if not for Mommila’s sacrifice, I wouldn’t be here sharing Love the best way for me and for all.

The portrait is a painting from an artist friend which captures Mommila’s beaming Love so well. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Love and Light,

Sarah