I've seen my mother shed only a few tears in my lifetime: a few tears trickling down her cheeks at a funeral, bittersweet tears of joy at a graduation ceremony, and a small handful of other times.
She has always been full of solid advice, sound judgment, and unconditional love just the way a mother should be. She has been my best friend, role model, savior, teacher, and my rock for as long as I can remember.
She is my guardian angel.
But one day, somewhere along the way as I grew up and life threw us curveballs, I realized that my mother was no the infallible creature I'd made her out to be. She was human, too.
She was affected by emotions, she felt pain from life's traumatic situations, and she needed people to lean on just as much as I needed her.
Suddenly it dawned on me: This invincible super woman who cared for me when I was sick and mended my broken hearts was not indestructible.
I don't think I'd ever been more shocked. But I'd also never been so encouraged.
If this mighty woman could be as incredible as she's proven herself to be despite being just as susceptible to life's hurt, then doesn't that mean I'm capable of being that strong too?
I have her blood coursing through my veins and her wisdom engraved in my heart and if she can carry herself with such grace and dignity no matter what circumstances she is given, then so can I.
I have always been grateful for my real life angel, but I have never been so proud to be my mother's daughter as the day I discovered she was not perfect.
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