Two Mothers, One Heart
My mother, Natasha, passed away when I was just two years old. I only knew her from photographs, but I never forgot her. Yet all my life, I called another woman “Mum”the one who came into our home and stayed forever.
I dont remember the day she arrived. It always felt like Mum Grace had been there from the beginning. Petite and softly rounded, with eyes as dark as coal and a smile that could warm even the gloomiest English afternoon.
“Mum Grace,” I called her.
“Little Gracie,” Dad would say fondly.
No one ever hid the fact that she wasnt my birth mother, but my heart accepted her completely. I believeddeep downthat when Mum Natasha left, she asked God to send me a protector. And He did.
Mum Natashas sisters and my grandmother often took me to stay with them. They never missed a chance to ask:
“Does she make your breakfast? Does she hug you? Does she take you out for walks?”
I stayed silent. Back then, I didnt know how to tell them I didnt need their questions. Now I understandthey hurt my love for Mum Grace. Because she loved me just as much as if shed given birth to me herself.
She never stopped me from remembering Mum Natasha. In fact, she was the one who held my hand and took me to church.
Wed step into the cool, dimly lit chapel. Candles flickered before the icons. She always bought twoone for health, one for remembrance.
“This ones for you, my love, so God keeps you safe and happy. And this ones for Mum Natasha, so she rests in peace.”
Id watch her cross herself and whisper the prayers after her.
“Mum, can Mum Natasha see us?” Id ask softly.
“She can, my darling,” shed say, stroking my hair. “Souls dont die. They live with the Lord. And when we pray, Mum Natasha hears us and smiles.”
After the service, wed always ask for a remembrance prayer. As the priest sang the hymn, Mum Grace would cross herself quietly and murmur:
“Rest in peace, Natasha see how we cherish your little Emily.”
Then, stepping outside, shed smile through tears:
“See, my love? You have two mothers. One in heaven, one on earth. But we both love you just the same.”
We lived in a small village, and everyone knew Mum Grace. She worked as a cook for the harvest crews, always hurrying to work with quick, light steps.
“Wheres the fire, Grace?” the neighbours would tease.
“Off to work, where else! So much to do,” shed reply.
She came home just as fast. The moment she crossed the threshold, shed find me:
“Emily, how was your day? Did you eat? Finish your schoolwork?”
And without failwarm hugs, kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, my nose
“This nose is my favourite!” shed whisper, kissing it.
When she baked scones, she always saved a bit of dough just for me.
“Come on, my little helper, heres your own dough. Time to learn!”
“Will they taste good?” Id ask, flour up to my elbows.
“Of course! Youve got golden hands, just like Mum Natasha.”
Her scones were heavenlywith butter, with cheese, with herbs and she herself was like fresh breadwarm, soft, and full of goodness.
When I struggled at my first job, she always knew what to say.
“Mum, I keep making mistakes nothings working,” Id sigh.
Shed sit beside me, take my hands in hers, and say:
“Emily, who doesnt make mistakes? Thats how we learn. Write everything down so you remember. I didnt know all my recipes straight away eitherI copied them into a notebook. And look, I managed! You will too. Just dont lose heart.”
When my son was born, Mum Grace stood outside the hospital all night. It was April, and the chilly spring air bit at the streets, but she wouldnt leave.
“Mum, why did you stay out in the cold?” I asked later.
She smiled that special, warm smile of hers:
“Where else would I be, my love? I was praying beneath your window, asking God to give you strength and the angels to watch over your little boy. Even if I couldnt be inside with you, my heart was there.”
Then one morning, Dad called:
“Emily Mum Grace is gone.”
I couldnt believe it. How could such a light ever go out?
Today, I flip through an old photo album. The pictures of Mum Natasha and Mum Grace weave together like threads in the same tapestry. And I realiseGod didnt leave me an orphan. He gave me one mother for life, and another for love and faith.
