Yesterday was Mothering Sunday in the UK, we are always leading the field on this one, while the rest of the world celebrates in about two month’s time. Really would be so much nicer if we all joined in celebration together wouldn’t it.
Anyway I visited Mum this weekend and showered love and prezzies on my beloved little Mum. My Mum was never ‘little’ in my eyes. She was always upright and strong and dressed by Country Casuals and Jaegar. Her hair was ‘done’ each week and she wore a gold necklace that Dad gave her many, many years ago.
Designer clothes are a long faded memory now, pride in appearance, straight back and head high are all things of the past. The past that was a world of care, of keeping the family, cooking the meals, being supportive and living the life. Golf with the ‘girls’, shopping, Dads’ shirts to iron, kids to worry about and cakes to bake.
She is so frail and does not sit up to chat this time, lies with head on pillow looking almost as faded as the white cotton hallowing her head.
We talk of family, animals and friends. She is missing times and seasons, like jigsaw pieces dropped behind the sofa and the picture coming out not quite right.
Three people have died in the care home in the past week. I feel this has taken its toll on her spirit. What life is this to be so altered and unrecognisable from self. She would not approve at all of this person on the bed. She would wish this poor lady a better existence than this. I wish this too.
I hold her close, small fragile bones in my arms. “I love you, I love you, I love you”. As I hold her I say one prayer – “Dear Lord, if she is holding on for that all encompassing motherly fear that our children (no matter their age) will not cope without us and that in some way by us merely being there we can help them again, then let her go. Let her rest assured that she has done brilliantly, that we can cope and flourish and that it is time she danced with my father again.”
My Mother’s Day wish is to see her wearing her golden necklace, tweed skirt and soft to touch jersey. To see her smile and turn to my father and pat his hand.
My Mother’s Day wish for this day to come soon.