MidReal Story

My Mother's Last Words

Akir Takao

Scenario:My mother's last words Saying goodbye to my mother felt like losing a piece of myself. She wasn’t just my mother—she was my confidence, my teacher, and my best friend. Though we didn’t always see eye to eye, our disagreements never lessened the love between us. She always taught me right from wrong, shaping me into the person I am today. One of the greatest lessons she ever shared was about cooking. "Cook with love," she would say. "If you cook with anger or hatred, the food will taste horrible." Cooking was never just about preparing a meal for her; it was an act of love, a way to nourish and bring people together. She believed kindness was the key to holding a family together. That lesson echoes in my mind even now. But since she left, I feel lost. Her absence is a void I cannot fill, and the weight of life without her is heavier than I ever imagined. She had a way of making sense of the world and guiding me through challenges with wisdom and patience. I wish she had written a book, a collection of her knowledge, her recipes, her advice—something I could hold on to, something that could guide me now that she is gone. There are so many things I still want to ask her, so many conversations left unfinished. Grief is strange; it makes you realize how many moments you took for granted. If I could speak to her one last time, I would thank her for everything—for her love, her lessons, and even the disagreements that helped me grow. Most of all, I would tell her that no matter how lost I feel right now, I will carry her love with me always. This is my last goodbye, but her presence will never truly leave me. She is in the kindness she taught me, in the meals I cook with love, and in the strength she passed down to me.

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My mother's last words Saying goodbye to my mother felt like losing a piece of myself. She wasn’t just my mother—she was my confidence, my teacher, and my best friend. Though we didn’t always see eye to eye, our disagreements never lessened the love between us. She always taught me right from wrong, shaping me into the person I am today. One of the greatest lessons she ever shared was about cooking. "Cook with love," she would say. "If you cook with anger or hatred, the food will taste horrible." Cooking was never just about preparing a meal for her; it was an act of love, a way to nourish and bring people together. She believed kindness was the key to holding a family together. That lesson echoes in my mind even now. But since she left, I feel lost. Her absence is a void I cannot fill, and the weight of life without her is heavier than I ever imagined. She had a way of making sense of the world and guiding me through challenges with wisdom and patience. I wish she had written a book, a collection of her knowledge, her recipes, her advice—something I could hold on to, something that could guide me now that she is gone. There are so many things I still want to ask her, so many conversations left unfinished. Grief is strange; it makes you realize how many moments you took for granted. If I could speak to her one last time, I would thank her for everything—for her love, her lessons, and even the disagreements that helped me grow. Most of all, I would tell her that no matter how lost I feel right now, I will carry her love with me always. This is my last goodbye, but her presence will never truly leave me. She is in the kindness she taught me, in the meals I cook with love, and in the strength she passed down to me.

Lily Carter

emotional, and determined. Lily struggles with grief after her mother's death, reflecting on their bond and the lessons she learned from her. She recalls her mother's wisdom about cooking with love and cherishes memories of their time together. Lily grapples with the void left by her mother's absence but finds solace in the love they shared.

Mark Carter

overwhelmed, and grieving. Mark tries to be strong for Lily but often breaks down under the weight of his own sorrow. He shares moments of vulnerability with Lily as they both navigate their loss together.

Sarah Carter

nurturing, and strongwilled. Sarah was a guiding force in Lily's life, teaching her valuable lessons about love, kindness, and resilience. Her death leaves a profound impact on Lily, who misses her dearly and wishes she could have written down her wisdom for future reference.

My mother's last words to me were, "I love you, and I will always be with you."

Those simple words changed my life forever.

Saying goodbye to her still feels like a part of me is missing, as if I have become incomplete somehow.

She wasn't just my mother; she was my confidence, my teacher, and my best friend.

We didn't always see eye to eye, but our little disagreements never made a dent in our love for each other.

I still remember how she would scold me when I did something wrong and then would tell me what the right thing to do was.

She taught me everything I know, from the beginning of ABCs to how to start a conversation.

She was my guiding light and the one who made me the person I am today.

If I could ask her one thing, it would be to know how she was so patient and strong.

How she could withstand all the challenges thrown at her and still come out on top.

I remember the days when my father would lose hope and his will to fight for his family, but she would be the one pulling him up, telling him that there was always a way and that giving up was never an option.

I sit in her bedroom, running my fingers over the quilt she made by hand.

The afternoon sun streams through the window, casting long shadows across the floral wallpaper she chose years ago.

My dad is at work, and the house feels too quiet without her humming or the sound of pots clanking in the kitchen.

Her perfume still lingers in the air, a mix of lavender and vanilla that always meant home.

I open her bedside drawer and find her old journal.

The pages are filled with her elegant handwriting, telling stories of love and loss, hope and resilience.

My hands shake as I trace the loops of her letters, remembering how those same hands taught me to knead bread dough.

The journal is worn and soft, its leather cover creased from years of being opened and closed.

The paper is smooth to the touch, like silk, and the ink bleeds through in places, giving it a sense of history.

I flip through the pages, stopping at a random entry.

The date is three years ago, a summer when my father lost his job and we struggled to make ends meet.

I remember how she kept her composure, even when the world seemed to be falling apart around us.

She wrote about the fear she felt but also the determination to hold our family together.

The words on the page are like a whisper in my ear, reminding me of her strength and resilience.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, feeling the scent of lavender grow stronger as if she is here beside me.

My heart skips a beat as I read the next line.