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 felt as though Mum Grace had always been therepetite, soft-spoken, with raven-black hair and a smile that could warm even the dreariest English afternoon.
*”Mum Grace”* Id call her.
*”My little Gracie,”* Dad would say fondly.
No one ever hid the fact she wasnt my birth mother. But my heart accepted her without question. I believeddeep downthat Mum Natasha had asked God to send me a guardian. And He did.
Mum Natashas sisters and my grandmother often took me to their homes. They never missed a chance to ask, *”Does she make your breakfast? Does she hug you? Take you for walks?”*
I stayed silent. Back then, I didnt know how to say their questions hurt. Now I understandthey doubted my love for Mum Grace. But she loved me just as much as if I were her own.
She never stopped me remembering Mum Natasha. Instead, shed take my hand and lead me to church.
Wed step into the cool, dim chapel. Candles flickered before the icons. Shed buy twoone for health, another for remembrance.
*”This ones for you, my lovefor health and happiness. And this ones for Mum Natasha, that she may rest in peace.”*
Id watch her cross herself and whisper the prayers after her.
*”Mum, can Mum Natasha see us?”* Id ask quietly.
*”She can, sweetheart,”* shed reply, smoothing my hair. *”Souls dont die. They live with the Lord. And when we pray, she hears us and smiles.”*
After the service, wed always light a memorial candle. As the vicar chanted the hymns, Mum Grace would cross herself again and murmur, *”Eternal rest, Natasha see how we treasure your little Emily.”*
Then, stepping outside, shed smile through tears. *”See, my love? You have two mums. 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 at the local farm, always hurrying to work with quick, light steps.
*”Where are you off to in such a rush, Grace?”* neighbours would call.
*”To work, of course! Too much to do,”* shed laugh.
She came home just as fast. The moment she crossed the threshold, shed find me.
*”Emily, how was your day? Have you eaten? Done 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 set aside a small bowl of dough just for me.
*”Here, my little helperpractice with this!”*
*”Will they taste nice?”* Id ask, flour up to my elbows.
*”Of course! Youve got golden hands, just like Mum Natasha.”*
Her scones were heavenlybuttered, garlicky, warm as sunshine. And she was just like themcomforting, golden-hearted, full of love.
When I struggled at my first job, shed soothe me with kindness.
*”Mum, I keep making mistakes I cant get anything right,”* Id sigh.
Shed sit beside me, cradling my hands in hers. *”Emily, who doesnt make mistakes? Thats how we learn. Write things down if it helps. I didnt know all my recipes at once eitherI copied them into a notebook. And look, I managed. So will you. Just dont lose heart.”*
When my son was born, Mum Grace stood outside the hospital all night. It was April, the air sharp with spring chill, but she wouldnt leave.
*”Mum, why did you wait in the cold?”* I asked later.
She smiled that warm, quiet smile. *”Where else would I be, my love? I prayed beneath your windowfor strength for you, and angels to watch over your boy. Even if I couldnt be inside, my heart was with you both.”*
Then one morning, Dad called. *”Love Mum Grace is gone.”*
I couldnt believe it. How could such light just vanish?
Now, as I leaf through an old photo album, pictures of Mum Natasha and Mum Grace weave together like threads in a tapestry. And I realiseGod didnt leave me an orphan. He gave me one mother for life, and another for love and faith.
