Most of the loves in our lives are conditional. Few are constant and unfailing. Our parents are often the only people who will love us no matter what we do. And so often we forget to appreciate them while they are here. It's not until that foundation of love is gone from our lives that we suddenly realise how unstable we are without it.
My mother was a study in maternal love. For birthdays she would let us choose which cake we wanted out of the Woman's Weekly children's cake book and then it would magically appear at our party. She would sew the most amazing dresses for my ballet concerts and even made me a white, frilly party dress when I was six and had outgrown my pink one. Later, when we moved to the farm she would keep us at home when it snowed and we would spend the day outside making snowmen followed by hot chocolates inside in front of the fire. Our birthdays were always special days, tinsel decorating our place at the dining table, the dinner of our choice, and fun activities all over town. I can still remember the warmth of cuddles in bed with her (she was not a morning person)...I can even remember her smell.
When I was four my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. The lump in her breast was so large by that time that I had told her in the shower one day that it was getting bigger. She'd been to doctors about it from the day she'd first found it. Every single one of them had turned her away without ever conducting any tests. You're too young for breast cancer. It's probably because you're still breast feeding your son - he's one now and too old for that. I am still filled with unholy rage about this. If I think about it for too long hot tears of rage spill over and I can feel my anger raging like black thunderclouds boiling through my head. Their cavalier attitude and glib dismissals cost her everything.
She died on a bright January day when I was ten. It was two weeks before my brother's eighth birthday.
Throughout my life I've had days of deep depression when I can't even get out of bed because I miss her so badly and nothing makes the pain better. I've always felt so angry because I didn't have the chance to know my Mum beyond a maternal figure - to grow up and become friends and share adult secrets. I envy mothers and daughters shopping in the mall, meeting for lunches and giggling over coffees. I'll never know what that's like.
When I was pregnant with my own daughter I was overjoyed to find a new connection with my Mum. I realised that I was probably feeling a lot of the things she felt when she was pregnant and suddenly I began to understand her and see her in a whole new light. When Charlotte was born I felt even closer to her and it was easy to imagine, as I struggled through those first few months, how she must have struggled too. I needed her badly then and the pain was fresh again. But it was finally touched with the soothing balm of understanding and closeness.
The biggest revelation out of that has been an understanding of why she fought the cancer so hard and why she lived so long. Her battle raged for so many years - long past the time when life was pleasant or easy for her. All my ignorant youth this baffled me and I swore that if I ever faced such a thing I would allow the waters of inevitability to take me along into eternity. But when I became a mother I finally understood why she would choose to fight so hard. Because when you have children you are suddenly anchored in life and love. They root you in this existence, holding you fast. Every instinct urges you to hang on, provide one more day of love and protection for them because you know that no one else can love them like you do.
I'm a mother myself now. Ironically, to an older girl and a younger boy, just as my mother was. My life in many ways echoes hers. I find myself saying the things she said, standing in anger the way she stood, cuddling my children in bed, making cakes out of the Women's Weekly cake book and sewing pretty dresses for my delighted daughter. It's a kind of immortality, those echoes of love rippling through my children's lives. She may not ever know them but in many ways they know her and for that I am grateful.
In loving memory of my mum Sharon 11/11/1950-13/01/1990. I will always love you.
I shared 24 wonderful years of my life with her and darling, i could not have summed up your loving memories any better, different memories maybe, but oh so beautiful ones. She still remains integral in a lot of things in my life too, although i am not as talented with the women's weekly cakes or frilly frocks as you are! Many a time i wished she was my mum - and in more ways than she may have ever known, she was. xx
ReplyDeleteit's hard to type when you have trouble reading the words through tears.
ReplyDeleteas much as my mum drives me bonkers, i wouldn't have her any other way.
@ GroovyChick; I think that even if I'd had 24 years with her it still wouldn't have been enough, as I'm sure you'd agree. She was just one of those people who fostered love in everyone. People still stop me in the street to tell me what she meant to them.
ReplyDeleteI have no doubt that she thought of you as a daughter - I remember how she treated you, the way she watched over you. Very much a mother duck with one of her chicks!
@Pippa - well may you weep. Your mother is an absolute star and I really hope you tell her how much she means to you. Yes she's mental but she loves you kids.