You never realize how good you have it until it’s too late. One day you could have everything and everyone you wanted in your life. The next it could be all gone, and you cannot do anything about it.

BY PHILEMON WELDU

IMAGE BY JASMINE COWAN

Hi, my name is Alex, and I am a recent art college graduate. I’ve always thought that the true heroes of the world are mothers. They nurture you, take care of you, and help you grow into an amazing person. Mothers become so intrinsically connected to your life that you don’t know what to do without them. This was true for my mother—her name was Angela, she was the kindest and most caring person you’ll find, and she looked youthful throughout her life. My mother would make the day of everyone around her light up. She would always help me and try to give me good advice so that I could succeed in life, because she wanted to see me be happy and successful. She was perfect through and through, but I didn’t always listen. She and I would sometimes fight about my passion, which was art. I thought the arts were the perfect avenue for me to truly relinquish my fears and express all my creativity. My mom thought otherwise, as she felt that art should be a hobby and that I needed to pursue other passions that could truly help me be successful. I was always irritated by that belief. She had always supported me, but in this case she would always shut down my art dreams.

“You know that is an old stereotype; art can truly be a successful career nowadays. Like, trust me, I can do it,” I said.

“I know you can work hard and try, but art isn’t worth the effort, it is not a good idea,” she said.

“Well, I want to make that effort. Why can’t you just support me—that’s all I want!”

“How can I support you if I know that this path you are on is NOT a good idea? Please listen, I want the best for you, son,”

“Just leave me ALONE!”

These types of conversations would go on for months and months. Our bickering and arguments kept going to the point that it was souring our relationship. My mom and I had a strong bond when I was a child, but that bond was slowly eroding. When I was a kid, she always aided me in trying new things and doing what I loved, and did not care about what others thought of my other unconventional hobbies, like my love of singing. Simply, she instilled in me the idea that if I loved it then I should go for it. When kids would make fun of me for singing at the school talent shows that I would often perform in, she told me to ignore them and believe in myself. My mother would always encourage me to be happy and be myself, but for some reason she HATED art. It was so out of character for her. My mom was so kind, and I knew that she always wanted the best for me, but I simply couldn’t understand why she never thought the arts was something I could do. There was no true communication between us and that led us on differing paths. I just wanted to express myself freely, but that wasn’t allowed. Any conversation we had where my artistic creativity was flowing, she would shut it down.

“Mom, look: I made the coolest art piece for a competition, so I was hoping to know what you thought of it,” I said cheerfully.

“It looks okay,” she sighed. “Son, why are you focusing your time on this? You should be using your time more wisely for something that would be useful…”

“I enjoy art; I thought you wanted me to do what I love!”

“ALEX, just put that away and go do your homework!” she screamed.

These conversations really made me feel like I had no support system, which made me hide my artistic side. I felt so constricted in the house, but I hoped we could come together again. As the days of high school ticked down, I had to think about my future. I thought about going to an art college, but it was far away, so I needed to talk to my mom about it. Unfortunately, our relationship was strained. Any time I tried to talk about college, arts, or the future, she would ignore me. It felt like I was talking to a brick wall. I needed my mom for the most important decision I had ever needed to make, and yet she wasn’t there. I waited and waited until there was no time left. I had to make a decision, and with a bit of sadness, I decided it was for the best that I leave for college. Nobody acknowledged me and thus I no longer needed to be here. I moved out and went to the art college—against her wishes. When I left, it really hurt her, but I was not gonna let her stop me from pursuing my passions. As time went on, my mom and I became more distant to the point that she was almost out of my life . I tried at times to connect by asking for advice or telling her about my life in general.

“Mom, can you give me advice on something? I was picking my courses for my first year of college, but I don’t know if I should pick Visual Arts 101 or Digital Media 101,” I asked.

“Son, both of those courses are bad; take something more useful, like math,” she said.

“I am doing what I like, so those are the two options,” I said, annoyed.

“Well, I don’t care then, because you clearly don’t respect me if you are not listening to my advice!” she yelled.

“All I have ever wanted is your support, but for some reason, you are just so STUBBORN, I am so happy that I am leaving, ‘cause at least I will be free from your constant disapproval,” I said in tears.

I had given up at this point trying to make amends.

Unfortunately, I was right to give up, but the reasoning was tragically different.

My dad called me while I was working and told me the most gut-wrenching news. My mom had died in a car accident. I had no reaction. I was in utter shock, and time stood still for a second. I started to cry and fell to the floor, where my thoughts were consuming me at a thousand miles per hour.

Was this my fault?

I am such a bad person, how could I let this happen to her?

I am the reason she is gone now?

I don’t deserve anything, I am so selfish and make everyone around me suffer?

My co-worker asked me what was wrong, but I had no words; I just couldn’t process anything, but I had to leave. So I told them it was an emergency and left work to go visit them. The drive to the hospital felt like it took hours, but I was still not prepared for what I was going to hear. Once I arrived, I saw my dad in tears. He told me that before my mother died, she recorded a voice note, and I told him to play it to me.

“Son, I know we had our disagreements, and I am sorry we never got to fix them, as it looks like there is no time left, but I just wanted you to know why I tried to stop you from going into art. It was because I wanted to be an artist as a kid. I dreamed of making art and showing my perspectives through visuals, but that dream led to me almost going homeless. Your dad was there to help me get back up and go into business. I was scared the same thing was gonna happen to you, but it would be worst as you wouldn’t have someone to save you as your father did for me. I now see in my final hours that I was wrong, and I should have encouraged and embraced you to show your talent and not let my fear consume me. So please, as my final wish, go show the world what you can do and create art that many people can truly admire. I’m sorry and I love you.”

When I heard that recording, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into the biggest cry I have done in my life, as if a tsunami of tears was coming my way. I wished I could do something to go back in time and fix our relationship, but we had shut each other out, and now there was no time left. The doctors said we had to leave because they were going to clear the hospital room. So,I had to say goodbye until the funeral. It was so hard to leave. My heart felt numb, like I had nothing to fight for anymore, because all my energy was gone. I felt like nothing. This changed as the funeral came. It was a sad day, but hearing others talk about my mother made me realize that she didn’t want me to be this depressed.

“Angela was the kindest person you’ll ever meet,” my aunt said. “She cared about everyone in her life and made sure that no one settled for zero. She wanted everyone she cared for to become their best possible selves inside and out. She never gave up on you even in the worst of times. She was just admirable. Even though she is gone, we know she will look at us in heaven, telling us to continue and be the best we can for her.”

My aunt’s speech really helped me to come to terms with her death. So, I made sure that every day even in the saddest of times to work on my art. I couldn’t stop crying for weeks but art was there for me as a reminder that my mom believes in me in heaven and I will do my best to honour her for the rest of my life. I fulfilled her last wish.

Philemon Weldu is a creative and community-oriented person who wishes to work in media to raise awareness around issues of importance. Currently, he is completing a Media and Communication Studies degree at the University of Guelph-Humber, specializing in Digital Marketing and Social Media. You can find more about Philemon’s journey here.

Image: Working Late (Jasmine Cowan, 2022)

Edited for publication by James Bader, as part of the Creative Book Publishing program.

HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.