Mother’s Day

And it is Mother’s Day tomorrow in the UK. Or Mothering Sunday if you prefer – which my mother emphatically did. Either way, it is a great time to show her you care – as Amazon, Marks and Spencer and a hundred other companies have been reminding me for weeks now. My mother would apparently be bowled over by perfume, flowers, chocolates, meals out, books, toiletries, balloon rides, bungee jumps or a hundred other wonderful things that might, completely unrelatedly of course, make the multinationals some money. And you know what? I wouldn’t grudge it. Not a penny. Except that I don’t have a mother. Not any more. Not for four years now. And these annual reminders in my inbox don’t sting any less with the passing of time. Which isn’t to say I don’t think other people should celebrate the day because of those of who no longer can. Quite the opposite. I think they should celebrate the heck out of it. They should take the opportunity to show those who love them that they love them back. Every Mother’s Day I re-read the letter I sent my mum when she told me she was dying. It was the last chance I had to say the things I wanted to. I wish now that I’d written one every year on Mother’s Day. I almost left it too late. I hope that everyone remembers to speak in the midst of joyous life and not only when facing incipient loss. When my mother knew she was dying she wrote my husband and children a birthday card each for the coming year. And one for me of course. They all opened them in turn and read their special message and smiled. It took me nearly four years. Once the card was opened and read, I knew I would never again see my name in her handwriting, never again read something written especially for me. I took out the card each birthday and held it for a while and put it back. When I did finally open it, I wished I had opened it earlier. Apart from the words of love, it told me not to be too sad. A message I could have used during those first few months. When faced with a terminal diagnosis, not everybody thinks immediately of others and wants to make sure they will be alright. It is the act of those who truly love. It is the act of a mother. I have children of my own and I hope to behave in a similar way to them. In that way my mother’s gift will go beyond her children and to my children and to their children whom she will never meet. I have no one to send a card to this year. I wish I did. but I do have the precious memory of a quintessential act of motherhood and I will always be grateful.

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2 Responses to Mother’s Day

  1. Carol Hedges says:

    lOVELY PIECE OF WRITING.

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