Sunday was Mother’s Day. I’ve dreaded it ever since my mother passed in 2007. But this year was a bit different. I realized that the “official” Mother’s Day, the second Sunday in May, is just one of 365 days in every year when we can, and should, honour our mothers, thank them, appreciate them and love them.
Really, the only difference between Mother’s Day and any other day is, the florists and restaurants are super busy and Hallmark does a booming business.
I think of my mother every day. I miss her every day. I miss her belly laugh. The glint in her eye. Her sunny disposition. Her determination. Her positive attitude. Her youthful spirit. Her love of life, family and friends. Her compassion, kindness and generosity. The grace with which she accepted whatever life handed her — good and bad. I miss her company.
She’s always popping into my mind. I often reach for the phone to call and tell her something or ask for a recipe or her opinion or for advice — only to stop myself in mid-move because while she’s in my heart and in my thoughts — and always will be — she’s sadly not on the other end of the phone.
But the wonderful memories I have are ever present. And that’s what I focussed on this past Sunday.
I remembered when she went to her doctor to find him sick with a bad cold. And as soon as her appointment was over she went home and cooked a huge pot of chicken soup and took it to him.
I remembered the time when René Levesque, the separatist Premier of Quebec’s car was double-parked so he could go into a grocery store for an apple and my mother yelled at him to move his car because he was screwing up the traffic the way he was screwing up the province.
I remembered when she told a handsome, young cardiology resident that her heart was fine, that his good looks were causing her rapid heartbeat. She was 83 at the time.
I remembered when she stalked celebrities during TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival). My condo was right next door to the Four Seasons Hotel and by then her health had really declined and she was living with me. Nothing, not even kidney failure, stopped my mother.
Yes, that’s what I did for Mother’s Day this year. I remembered and laughed at my mother’s antics. There’s really no better way to celebrate her and I know she’d approve — and love it!