(original text written on February 2nd, 2011,
moderated on Febraury 13th, 2014)
There’s a lot to tell about my Mother.
I can’t do that now. This is not the place.
She died a little more than 4 years ago.
February the 1st. At the age of 89 years.
I talk a lot about her with my younger Brother.
The longer the day vanishes in our minds that she passed away, the more we love her.
We laugh of the way she behaved.
About her bad habits, her good ones.
She really was famous in our family because of her sayings.
Now we can laugh of her.
It was more difficult when we were young.
It was difficult for her too.
But she loved us.
My Mother wasn’t like this piece of piano music you’ll hear today.
Any music could not express her way of being.
It’s only what I feel when I think of her.
I love her.