Mother’s Day is always a bit difficult for me these days. It never used to be, providing I remembered in time to get my dear Mum some flowers and a card – ideally with some sugared almonds, that vied with chocolate covered Brazil nuts as her favourite sweet. I would be in real trouble if I forgot. Not that Mum would get angry. Nor would she say anything to me about it, or even hint. No. That was not how she worked. Instead, it would be the next day, when it was too late to do anything that might save the situation (or at least mitigate the gaff), and it would be via Dad. Who would quietly say that Mum was disappointed with me missing ‘her’ day. Thankfully, I do consider myself reasonable organised and as a natural gift giver this was not a common occurrence. That said, though, I did screw up many years later when the parental Christmas card was from a pack of twelve rather than obviously tracked down especially in a card shop. The kind of card that was needed says, ‘to Mum and Dad at Christmas’, and has extensive verses of schmaltz. That was what they wanted, and we never made the mistake again. Over the top cliched expressions of love were what Mum (and Dad) loved, and that was what they got.
Mum passed away in 2009. Mother’s Day suddenly became, for me, irrelevant (let us put aside the lovely mother of the Lovely Wife, who is very much a key part of our lives, but my understanding is that this was never a ‘thing’ in her household). Worse, it became a source of upset, not only because of who was no longer there, but also because we were childless (as I have written in this blog before).
Handling this, at least from my side, has been through a mixture of coping strategies. For the loss of my Mum, it perhaps inevitably turns to happier memories and a better understanding of all that she did for me, including the many sacrifices – including, to some extent, her own health, as the treatment that helped bring me into the world was also partly responsible for the health issues she had from that point onwards. So, Mother’s Day becomes less of an opportunity to buy flowers and more a celebration for me of my Mother and her life.
Secondly, it is hard for me not to delight in the happiness of others and the lovely children they are bringing up, and especially the ones that I have had the privilege to have some contact and impact with in their lives (of which there are many). It is hard not to take pleasure in a new life.
I was sitting our favourite pub this weekend when one of the Landlords turned up with his month old baby on his first outing to greet the general public – an event that immediately reduced most of the male, burly, rugby supporting clientele to cooing over the child in a way that was simultaneously hilarious and heart-warming. The new Dad joked that he was going to leave the child with me (we have been regulars for years now) and run off – perhaps he would not have done had he known I have considered stealing several friends’ adorable children over the years (I am, of course, joking).
Everyone has to cope with loss and changes of circumstances in their own way. This is my personal way, and it may not always work even for me. But I hope that those of you with Mum’s you can still love took the opportunity, and even better, wait a couple of weeks and send them some flowers. Just because you can. I guarantee they will receive a good reception.