Perhaps to understand that you should at least experience it. I did not have o lot of it. At nine years of age my childhood was over. My youngest brother got really sick and I had to take care of him because my mother had to work and there was no one else to take care of him but me and I was just 9.
My mother could not cope with the tragedy. She literally fell apart. I became his second mother. I cooked for him, fed him, because he could not take care of himself. I sang him songs and read stories and I called him my son because my mother called him that.
I loved him very much too, I wanted him to be alive, healthy and happy but there was no help for him in my country at that time and no financial support. My parents had to work and I had to take care of him and to go to school too.
And in her grief my mother forgot that I was a child still, that at 9 years of age you cannot behave like a grown up, you cannot think like a grown up. You need some support you need somebody to share your doubts, concerns and troubles.
At my age I did not think my mother loved me at all. I thought that she was not my real mother, that she adopted me from somebody else. She could never find time to stop, hug me and just tell: I love you, I need you, I cannot live without you.
It would be very simple to say that and I needed those words and I waited for them for many ears but my mother never said them.
She never told me that she loved me and I do not know why.
I am sure that she loved me but it's too late now. She is not in this world with me any more and I cannot ask her anything. But every time I have a chance I am telling my children over and over again: I love you, I need you, I cannot live without you, because I do not want them ever to doubt that.
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