Mummy loves you, jean

Last night before i slept, i held my mother's hand-she was already asleep, and i reflected on how much she had sacrificed for me and the family.
Her hand is wrinkled from years of contact with detergent and water, and scarred from burnts and cuts.
But still it has the mother's touch-smooth, soft and soothing.
It was morbid, but i thought about whether i would be ready to let her go when the time comes.
And i was very sad, as i always was upon thinking about the deaths of my family members.
Moments like this, i wish i could take back every shout and evil thought i had towards my mum. And i wish i could say more of the "I love you"s and "Thank you mummy"s and "I'm sorry"s. Words that i mean so much but say so little.
To me, mummy takes second position to God, in loving me.
She might not know me as much as i would wish, but she loves me. And i have learnt to appreciate her a whole lot more than before. I guess one good thing about growing older is you become a little wiser as well. :)

Have you appreciated your mother lately?