Written by: Ania Fiduccia
The memory of a mother’s voice is something most of us hold close to our heart. Generally speaking, it reminds us of the innocence of childhood and is a symbol of unconditional love.
A mother’s voice has the incredible ability to make everything a little better, soothing the deepest wounds and making even the darkest days seem brighter.
But amidst the daily chaos of routine responsibilities, our gift of voice can easily feel more like a mundane job…and we forget how powerful this gift can really be.
We sometimes wake up each morning in the thrall of chaos, doing our best to keep the peace and enjoy the time with our children. And before you know it, the day comes to an end. But more often than not, we go to bed wondering if our voice was ever heard.
These routine days quickly turn into months…and months turn into years. The next thing we know our children become adults and start families of their own, soon-to-join the seemingly never ending cycle of rushed routines and responsibilities.
But in those moments of commotion when they, too, start wondering where the time is going, there is one thing that our grown children can always find peace in: their mother’s voice.
My mother was not given the gift of old age. She was diagnosed in 2001 with ALS (a.k.a. Lou Gehrig’s Disease). About halfway through her battle, she lost the ability to speak and could only communicate with minimal hand signals or electronic devices. Unfortunately after only two short years, she lost her battle to the disease and took her last breath.
Outside of my own memories and a few low quality VHS tape recordings, I have since lost any opportunity to hear my mother’s voice again. And I can’t tell you how many times I wish I had more to remember her by. Because on those days when I lose hope, the sound of her gentle voice speaking my name is something that would instantly help turn things around.
Relying solely on those VHS recordings, and taking for granted how quickly things can change, I have robbed myself of those nostalgic feelings. And even my son will only know his grandmother through my stories, which are limited to my own reflection of her.
Looking ahead with a clearer understanding of the power of mother’s voice and the void it leaves behind, I am determined to take the necessary steps to ensure our son will never have to experience those same sorrows.
With the help of my Footprint, I am leaving behind more than just written words for him. I am giving both him and his future children the gift of my voice. I have already stored several voice files special for him, such as a birthday song and a recording of his favorite childhood book “Lokomotywa”, in my native language – Polish.
But that is just the beginning. There are plenty more recordings I have planned for the future.
My hope in preserving my voice…and my story…is simple: no matter how old he is or what artifacts he held onto after my passing, he can always have an opportunity to hear his mother’s voice. And perhaps it will get him through some of life’s moments that I have personally struggled with.
The future isn’t guaranteed. But I am honored to have a voice, and will do what I can now to help ensure it is a voice that continues to resonate through the future generations of his family, long after I say goodbye.
So I leave all of the moms out there with one last question: what have you done lately to preserve your voice?
AmericasFootprints.com would like to give a special “thank you” to Ania for taking the time to share this story with us. If you would like to submit a personal story from your life that you believe our blog readers can possibly find inspiration through, please contact us for more information. If desired, you can choose to stay anonymous.