Written By David Gomez
My family has always been ruled by a powerful—at times even authoritarian—matriarchy. Even if women haven’t always outnumbered the men in my family, their leadership has always stood out. The women in my life have given everything for their children. They have faced adversity with perseverance and resilience that, quite honestly, is enviable.
In moments when the men were not able to provide or be present, it was my great-grandmother, grandmother, aunts, and mother who stepped up—offering both economic and emotional support. Thanks to them, there was never a lack of delicious food on our table, big warm kisses on our chubby cheeks, or a severe scolding when we misbehaved. That spirit—of mothers who rise above all circumstances—is something that deserves to be remembered always.
That is why I want to take a moment in this column to express my admiration for them, and for all the mothers, sisters, aunts, and grandmothers who hold families together with strength, love, and sacrifice.
Recently, I had the good fortune to spend twelve short but joyful days in Peru. I was able to visit my grandparents, who always light up when they see me. We talk often over video calls and emails, but it’s never quite the same. There are 6,135 kilometres between this beautiful corner of Canada and my hometown, Lima.
Don’t get me wrong—my life here is very happy, and it brings me joy to write for you, our readers. But on days like Mother’s Day, it’s hard having my mom and grandmother so far away.
While in Lima, I visited my grandparents’ old four-storey house, where I lived as a child. Back then, my parents worked tirelessly from Monday to Saturday, so I spent most of my days with my grandmother. I remember running through the patio playing with toy cars and robots until sunset. I remember our abundant lunches, our desserts that often included a piece of sweet chocolate, and how I used to snack on raw tomatoes and carrots like morning or afternoon treats.
I remember the soft, sweet scent of my grandmother’s perfume. Even now, when I hug her—like I did just days ago—that scent takes me straight back to childhood. I remember the old black clock in the kitchen. At three years old, I couldn’t tell time, but I knew the small hand had to reach the nine. When it did, my heart would leap because it meant my mom would be arriving any minute. I remember running to give her the longest hugs after her long days at work.
All these memories fill me with deep joy and a gentle kind of sorrow. There’s a nostalgia that lingers—beautiful, but bittersweet.
So, to all the mothers reading this column: Happy Mother’s Day. I hope you feel celebrated, appreciated, and loved. You deserve every moment of it.
And finally, while our dear reporter and friend Alan Good recovers from an important surgery, I will be writing the Travel section in upcoming editions. I hope you will enjoy following my adventures in Lima.
