Beyond the Embrace: Celebrating Dearly Departed Mum on Mother's Day

Hello Mum,

It’s Mother’s Day again in this corner of the world, a time when the dominant culture and norms pause to honour mothers. For many, it’s a day filled with flowers, calls, and warm embraces. For me, it’s a day tinged with a familiar ache, a quiet remembrance of a physical presence I haven't felt in a quarter of a century.

Twenty-five years.

It feels like both a lifetime and just yesterday since I last heard your voice, since I felt the unique warmth of your embrace. Though you visit me often in the dreamscape, a vibrant, knowing presence offering loving gaze, messages, and guidance, I still miss the tangible reality of you. I know that life’s journey, our individual fates, meant our paths diverged in this iteration, finding new ways to connect in the spirit realms. But the longing for that embodied presence remains a tender spot in my heart.

It’s been a while since I spoke to you like this, one on one, pouring out the thoughts that tumble through my mind. And if there’s something you know I could do well, it was talk… 😊 I know you've been a quiet witness to the life I’ve meandered since we parted ways. So much is new, so different, so much is messy – so much so that it’s hard to know where to even begin. But today, on Mother’s Day, I want to focus on something that has become increasingly central to my life, a path I’ve walked, shaped, and continue to discover.

Mum and I - Visiting Day Limuru Girls School circa 1993

I remember the quiet concern, perhaps even a touch of difficulty in accepting, when I began to find a spiritual path that felt more true to the values I held fundamental: living in harmony, seeking truth, upholding justice, and recognizing our deep sense of connection rather than separation. It meant stepping away from the structures of organised religion that were such a staunch foundation for you. It wasn't a rejection of the values of love and community you instilled, but a search for spaces where I didn’t have to compartmentalise parts of my identity to survive or belong.

I needed a place that welcomed me fully – a Kenyan, a woman, queer, a teenage mom, left-handed, somewhat stubborn, very cheeky, constantly questioning – without demanding that I "hive off" pieces of myself. I sought spaces that cultivated loving kindness, that found ways to connect our shared struggles and strengths, rather than drawing dividing lines, shaming, and othering. I craved a path that promoted curiosity, aliveness, and a deep engagement with the present moment and our complex contexts of life that seem to have normalised violence, discord, and inequality. I needed a space that accepted my body as it is, that replaced a morbid fear of death or dis-ease with an appreciation for the cyclical, flowing nature of life.

Mum and I - 1980s road trip and other shenanigans

These were the spaces I gravitated towards – places that made me curious about my roots and ancestry, that appreciated my sense of individuality while also weaving me into the fabric of community and the vast ecosystem we inhabit through time, space, and metta. Spaces that inspired self-inquiry, looking inwards to understand and be mindful of ourselves better, to be more true and tender to ourselves and, by extension, to others. I had to turn away from places that felt it their right to strip people of their humanity, valuing them only for the tithe or offering given at great personal cost. I side-stepped ideologies that polarised, incited harm or violence towards others. I moved away from doublespeak, where actions didn't match the professed intentions of nurturing shared beliefs and values. I stepped back from the loud, sanctimonious voices declaring that only their god, their truth, their path was the right one. Instead, I chose a path dedicated to widening the circle of inclusion, loving kindness, truth, suspending judgement, and cultivating a sense of equanimity.

I remember standing up in Sunday school as a child, sharing testimonies of transformation after “seeing the light.” While I may have recited the words from verbal and visual scripts and cues we picked up back then, in this moment, my true heartfelt testimony rests on two profound discoveries that have rooted and shaped my life in such fundamental ways.

The first is my identification as an African feminist. This has been my lifeline. It is a constant process of learning and unlearning, of committing each day to fighting for the liberation and struggle of women and marginalised people. It’s a space where I check my privileges, take stock of power dynamics, and understand that oppressive power thrives when we remain fragmented, in disagreement with no hope towards resolution. It’s a path that encourages our movements to thrive even when we bring our messiness into our social action spaces, because we do our best to be intentional around fostering a culture of radical care to replace the retributive and punitive ways we've been taught to address wrongs. It is in this space that I’ve made the powerful discovery that our bodies, our minds, our thoughts are not only sites of oppression but also incredible wellsprings of liberation. This understanding and knowing extends to land and territories so often exploited and harmed by capitalist extractive cultures that promote consumption over the wellbeing of people, the planet, and the natural world. Recognizing these interconnections has given my struggle an identity, direction, and my voice power.

The second is the discovery of knowledge traditions that allow me to find myself and nurture my spiritual practice in an intuitive, deeply personal way. It is a path that teaches me to witness myself with compassion and without judgment, to glean insights into who I am, what I truly want to do, and how I can get there. Not in isolation, but in wholeness, woven into community, committing myself to being a healing presence for myself and for others.

These two anchors have profoundly strengthened the quality of my life, allowing me to navigate challenges, find joy, and build a life of meaning. And Mum, none of this, absolutely none of the roads that led me here, would have been possible if you had not first breathed life into me.

If you had not named me, blessed me, suckled me, wiped my tears, whispered the words that helped me grow, learn, and find my place in the world. Even after all these years, the memories may feel distant, but the feeling remains vivid. I still remember what it felt like to be enveloped in your arms, to be carried, kissed goodnight. To be held, to be loved fiercely, and then when the time came, sent off into the world with a bag full of tools and optimism to do fate’s bidding.

Thank you, Mama. My life is full, it is rich, it has meaning because you brought me here and safeguarded me in the very best way you could. You gave me the roots that allowed me to grow, to seek, to fight, and to find my own light.

I love you in this life, and in all the beautiful, mysterious spaces between the times.

Happy Mother's Day.

With heart,

Chiqy