I always find Mother’s Day a bit weird. Our mum passed away a long time ago. I don’t say that to be vague, we’re just not the type of family that remembers dates, anniversaries and things like that. It’s not a lack of respect, it’s just how we are.
I’m the youngest of five children (they stopped when they reached perfection). We don’t speak to each other constantly, we have an occasionally used WhatsApp Group, but we know we all love each other without anything being said. I guess that’s the gift our parents gave us. We are independent, we don’t get in a huff when someone doesn’t call or forgets a birthday (lucky in my case as I can be a bit hopeless). When we do get together we have a great time.
Our parents taught us how to love life, every bit of it. They taught us how to party too!
When I think about my mum now, I realise she must’ve been quite a risk taker. She was Scottish, born & bred. My dad was Welsh.
Any other previous suitors would’ve been Forces related because of where they lived. And she opted for a Welsh bank clerk who really wanted to be a vicar. Her poor parents!
Her risks went on throughout their married life. My dad worked for the Civil Service and they lived in Scotland, England & Wales. Can you imagine hoiking your 5 children, dog and 2 cats the length of the country when you can’t drive yourself?
Then another big risk – my dad decided to take up the one thing he had always wanted to do – become an Anglican vicar. As a younger man his father wouldn’t let him join the church, he wanted him to earn a good wage.
He went off to Theological College and mum kept everything going at home. As a teenager I’m quite sure I wasn’t the least bit impressed by this. But I am now. What a woman! And what a great wife.
There were never any blazing rows in our house. Well not between mum & dad. Me and my maths homework may well have lead my dad to raise his voice more than a little.
The best thing we all learned from mum is our sense of fun (and possibly how to flirt outrageously). I think I told you before, when my brother worked abroad, she would take a huge amount of enjoyment driving his Fiat X19 around without the roof, waving at other X19 drivers – mostly young men. She loved it. The sound of her stilettos could strike fear into any young teacher’s heart on Parent’s Evening – she wasn’t to be trifled with.
As we got older, she had various office jobs. Again, unnoticed by me at the time, money must have been tight. She made friends with a fabulous group of ladies who all shared her wicked sense of humour. Their cheese and wine parties on a Sunday afternoon were the thing of legend.
She never batted an eyelid when a boyfriend might turn up for me or my sisters, only to have to cover for us as we were out with someone else. Actually, she loved to have a chat with them in the kitchen all about their lives.
So when I say I find Mother’s Day weird, it’s not that I miss her, it’s that I’m really sorry she wasn’t around long enough to see us grow up enough to realise what a great woman she was.
At this terrible time when we can’t be with our loved ones, make sure you have a chat with your mum on the phone today if you’re lucky enough to still have her around. If not, just stop and remember some great times together, not in a sad way but in a joyous celebration of their lives.
I’ve a heap of photos below. I tried to pick the ones that showed her personality and how lucky we were to have her as our mum