Trying to put a few thoughts on paper.

I’m watching a show, a very old one – “This Is Us.” It’s almost 10 years old; everyone probably watched it. If they loved it, they watched it many times; if not, they probably wrote negative reviews many, many years ago. But for me, it’s a new show. I watch a bit of it every day. And I discovered that this remarkable series is truly a masterpiece that transcends beyond just being a show, a drama series, or a show about love and family. The storytelling is beautifully crafted, weaving together multiple narratives across different timelines with grace and precision. A tapestry of human emotions, love, and resilience presented to us just as it is, as it would have been in real life.

As of now, I am still on Season 1, and I just witnessed the death of Randall’s father. As I watched it, a little essay below came out of the pen. You can take it or leave it… this is an open-ended reflection of life with many possible answers and outcomes.

In the history of human experience, what has the role of a mother been and what is the role of a mother now? What impact do mothers leave on their children? Why are some mothers, even bad mothers, so cherished, and why, often, more often than one may imagine, some mothers are discarded as old, unnecessary boxes?

There exist those children, and grown-up people too, who, from the earliest chapters of their lives, bear the heavy weight of mothers who disappeared, leaving a void difficult to function. These children navigate the journey of life with emptiness, haunted by the unanswered question of why their mothers chose to leave them. Yet, they still love their mothers, they still want to find them, reconnect to them, forgive and love them, and be loved back by them.

There are children and children who become grown-up adults whose mothers turn to prostitution as a means of survival, or just because… What sort of scars do children and later grown-up adults have? Who truly knows. No one, only and only children and at times mothers too. Yet, those children and later adults still love their mothers and will always find reason for the most ancient job on the planet.

Alcoholism, too, casts a long shadow over the lives of certain children as their mothers become ensnared in the grip of the bottle. Neglect and indifference replace the warmth of maternal care, and the children are left to navigate the tumultuous waters of life alone. Yet, children love those mothers. They hate alcoholism but they love their mothers.

Yet, even more hauntingly, some children are raised by mothers who are murderers. These mothers, lost in the depths of darkness, commit unforgivable acts, leaving their offspring to grapple with life… leaving them to figure all these out this or what way. Do their kids love them? It is hard for me to think of the correct answer, but I think, more likely the answer is yes than no.

And then there is this paradox, there are mothers who, against the odds, strive to provide the best for their children. Despite their efforts, these mothers find themselves abandoned by the very ones they sacrificed so much for.

Haunting question: why does this happen? The answers remain elusive, buried in the layers of life, at least for me. Is this because of an abusive father/husband, is this because of divorce, or is it because of immigration to an entirely different world, or is it because of the mother? In the Georgian language, the mother is “deda.” This word is used in combination with many, so many other words. One of the most loved words for me is dedabozi, which translates as a bearing, holding the column in the house.

Often, I ask myself this question: yes, I was and I am still a mother of grown-up men, but was I a bearing column?

Lastly, if you have not watched “This Is Us,” watch it. It may help with unsolved family issues.