As the youngest child in our family of four, pictures of my mother and I were very scarce but there is this one that I was able to save. Looking at this photo of my mother and I brings back memories of how I used to spend weeks in the summer on the waters of the Baie de Chaleur with my family. The smell of the saltwater, the bonfires and the feeling of the hot black sand burning my feet still takes me back to remembering our lazy, endless days at the beach. Last July, when I was on vacation with my two kids in Long Beach, my mother passed away suddenly. It was sort of fitting that when we heard the news we were literally on the beach. Mom would have liked that. I left the Maritimes at a very young age of 20, heading west to see Expo 86, and never returned home. All unexpected of course, but it laid the grounds to who and where I am today. And the one person who didn’t want to let me go, was my mother. We argued all that summer and finally made amends when I decided to finish university in Victoria, and promised visits back home every summer.
I never understood why she made such a big deal about it, but as a mother of two, I get it now. I know it might seem odd, but I have this picture of us in the kitchen, next to mom’s ashes, with her eye glasses, and her wedding rings. She never left home without having her rings on and her glasses close by and her absolute favorite place to be in the house was in the kitchen cooking. To be honest, when I returned home after the funeral I don’t even remember putting everything there, it just happened. So now every day I get to see her and keep her close by.
We all have our own unique way of celebrating Mother’s Day, some with great grandmothers, some with grandmothers, others with moms and their daughters and some like myself, will share a drink with her in the kitchen. Nonetheless, we find the time to make that call – make the time to say hello and remember those special moments we share. There is a beautiful story about Mother’s Love, written for Good Housekeeping in 1933 by Temple Bailey. I want to share a few paragraphs from this story as I could not put in words how Bailey did about how I felt about my mother and what it means to be a mother:
“We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A mother is more than a memory, she is a living presence. Your Mother is always with you. She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she’s the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume that she wore, she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well, she’s your breath in the air on a cold’s winters day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is your birthday morning. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. She’s the place you came from, your first home, and she’s the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you, not time, not space – not even death”.
Here’s wishing a beautiful Mother’s Day to all!
