through the eyes of her daughter

She raised two exceptional daughters. I got to know one of them. The one traveling to Syracuse University for graduate school is the The one who likes the orange gummy bears. A couple of weeks ago, when I met with Josiane, she would go on and on about her mom. She told me she’s the strongest and most resilient woman she’s ever known and her number one life teacher. For some reason, she never mentioned her by name, and I did not ask.

Her love for education

She never got to high school. By ninth grade, she was out. Effectively, her education was disrupted from the sixth grade due to war and other factors. She remembers that she quit schooling when she started learning English. In Lebanon, it’s usually by sixth grade.

She made sure her daughters loved learning. She read to them and story-told. And then, she would listen to her three-year-old Josiane as she recounted the story. Picture book after picture book.

She created a fun learning environment for them. Homemade flour, cornstarch, and salt for play dough went a long way. Along with other household stuff, including pots and pans, she fired up their imagination and turned them into inquisitive little rascals.

By her husband

She never worked until she had to when cancer took her husband away. Whatever savings they had, she spent on his healthcare — on the four-year battle they lost (2004–2008). She also sold everything she had, properties and jewelry, to take care of him. She managed with the bit of money she had and never let her daughters feel it. Yet, she still was upfront and told the eight-year-old and the four-year-old that their father was sick.

When her very young, sad, and confused daughter blamed her for her father’s death, she kept quiet. She kept loving. The wife, the mother, and the caretaker still give it all in everything she does.

A typical day that went on for years

When she had every reason to stay in bed, she pushed through, one task at a time, one day at a time.

• 6:30 am — Their wake-up call was with gentle and slow kisses. Prepared breakfast and their lunch boxes. Saw them off to school.

• 8:00 am — When the dad was at the hospital in Beirut, she left to stay with him. Since she did not have a car, she would take one service taxi, then a bus, then another service taxi. Each-way. No matter the weather.

• 2:00 pm — Having spent all morning by his bedside, she would leave again (service taxi, bus, service taxi) to get home.

• 3:00 pm — Girls come back from school. She would eat lunch with them, ask about their day, and help them with their homework.

• 4:00 pm — Leaves again to stay with her ailing husband.

• 8:00 pm — Leaves the hospital. Gets home. Takes a shower. Sleeps, to do it all over again the following day.

The aunt, who lived in the same building, covered for her sister when she couldn’t be in two places at the same time. She did everything so that her children would not feel that they were losing both parents.

Life continues

The inlaws did not treat her as they should have. Yet, she never spoke ill of anyone. They are still family to her daughters. Her support group was tiny. When her husband passed, she had to devise a means to make a living. With no formal education, she decided to pool whatever money she had left and opened a store with her sister. With three weeks to Christmas, she had to figure out how to source merchandise, price, display, and work the financials. Having been a stay-at-home mom all her life, this was a different planet altogether for her.

She worries

Mothers worry. It’s in their job description. As a wife, she worried about her husband, including taking his medication on time. When she couldn’t be at home, she gave her daughter the responsibility to remind him. Even now, as adults, she still worries about her daughters coming and going, especially since Josiane got molested.

She worries about them not eating or not eating correctly altogether. When on a three-month internship in Europe, she would call her daughter crying and ask whether she had been eating. They ended up creating a proof of food Whatsapp group for their mom with pictures of their daily dishes.

Fake news got busted :-)

It took her time to live again

She is calmer and more resilient than ever as she relearns how to live life again. The daughters, who are 21 and 25, switched roles with her and are pushing her to come back to happy.

She’s getting back. No grey and black clothing. She’s joking so much that it’s getting on Josiane’s nerves.

I think there’s something equivalent to dad jokes but by moms.

She’s doing things for herself, even shopping! Cooking is an enjoyment again. Her dream was to become an interior designer or a chef.

Maybe it’s a good time to take it seriously, mom!

Camping on the same social media network as her daughters, she started an Instagram account. They’re not happy. She’s even going out to eat. When before, nourishment was to be enjoyed at home. She’s enjoying walks with her children.

It took time for her daughters to understand her. Sometimes, it takes an adult to understand an adult. An adult daughter to understand her mother.

The daughters want to know more. When asked, she looks sideways and says nothing. She’s the quiet type, and she still hasn’t told them everything. Maybe some things are better left untold.

Starbucks? She’s more of a Dunkin person. American Coffee, please!