A year ago today I boarded a plane in London to fly home to my mother who was sick. I have been back in my hometown for a year now. Six months of job searching. Six months of working. It’s been a hard year. And has made me ask: What is love?
Love probably means a combination of both — acceptance (of family) yet going one’s own way.
Anytime I have questions about what the right thing to do is, about ethics. The answer always come back to, what I call, Big Love — loving the way our Oma taught us to – unconditionally, based on faith.
Yet this is hard. There are no accolades or applause and you only end up looking strange. This is where faith comes in.
Doing what I think was right. Cost me. But maybe there will be good that will come of this?
"Only grandchildren can see through the souls of their grandmothers."
- Ahona Panda