This morning I went out shopping with my mum and The Boy. It wasn't a massive trip anywhere special, we weren't after anything specific, and no amazing bargains were purchased (apart from the Christmas cooking book that we bought in Matalan, and the cherry liquers in Marks and Spencer).
I've come home and I'm exhausted; it's a grey, Wintery day and it's cold. The thermometer on my car dashboard said 8°C but I think that was it's goal rather than reality. The Boy is currently nestled soundly asleep in his cot upstairs, I should be taking the opportunity to have a nap, and the dishwasher is whirring away in the background.
I know you're wondering why I'm telling you all this but I've just opened my inbox and seen a post notification from someone that I genuinely consider to be a friend, were it not for technological and geographical confines. I scanned it briefly to get a gist of its contents before I've opened it in a browser to read and comment on. However, I'm in tears already. In this post, she talks about the pain of losing her mother, and that is one of my greatest fears.
Fear, or acknowledged eventual outcome?
I dread the day that my mum doesn't turn up with a loaf of bread and some milk because "I thought you might be short of them". Or phones and says "come on, let's go to Matalan." Or rings because she wanted to rant about something that my father has done (normally breathing to be honest). My mum is one of my best friends and as much as I may groan about the fact that she gave The Boy fishfingers for lunchtime instead of ham, I cannot imagine how it would feel to not have that in my life.
We're inordinately lucky that my mum looks after The Boy while I work and never once have I ever thought it to be about the money. In all honesty, if she couldn't have him then I wouldn't work. That's for various reasons of which I won't go into now, however I'm lucky that that's never been an issue. It was always assumed on everyone's part that she would look after him and she does it brilliantly.
She is the one who taught him how to do a jigsaw. She's the one who taught him how to draw a 'kiss'. I don't have a problem with any of it. And despite me inwardly groaning at the mess when I get home at 5pm and find my 66 year old mother on her knees pouring imaginary cups of tea, I also smile and don't mind because it means they've been playing all day long.
The Boy adores her. She adores him. Rightly, I adore her because she's my mum.
And I don't know where I'd be without her.
I often feel like that about the hubby actually. I imagine all the worst case scenarios and how he has come so close to a few of them. And it just scares the hell out of me. But then I have to take a deep breath and realise that it is a world I have built in my head. And I know I would cope if I had to. It's brilliant that you have such an amazing mother. Try and treasure the moments now and not worry too much about the "what if"
Mothers are the only ones who really want to know whether you took your Vitamin C at breakfast and whether you've got a warm vest on. Irritating, often, but won't we miss it when noone minds. You're never old enough to lose a mother and, although inevitable, their absence is unimaginable. But aren't we lucky to have been blessed with mothers that will will miss so badly. I hope yours (and mine) lives ten decades…
Yes we are. When someone says "OMG I'm turning into my Mother" I smile to myself and think "I should be so lucky – she did a great job"
Sorry Chick, I didn't mean to make you cry!
I love music – it's great therapy and the meme from @MammyWoo was a brilliant idea. I could ave picked 3 very upbeat songs, but this was a time in my life when music 'really was' therapy and I didn't even appreciate music as much as i should – as much as I do today. But then, I'm with someone now who practically breathes music and I could pick a song for every eventuality from his collection – and the fact that I'm blissfully happy now menas that the therapy obiously worked (not even a bottle of Prozac in sight).
I DO envy you having your Mum around – God, what I'd d for a hefty disagreement with her now, or to sit and laugh about the daft things I get myself into over a cup of tea and hot buttered toast.
But, I wouldn't wish for anyone to feel the pain of not having their Mum around – something that's hard to grasp until it happens.
Spoil your Mum, give her opportunities to tell you about the things she loves, take her to expensive coffee shops for cake (just because you can) and never ever be too busy to help her out when she needs you – because ou know that come what may, she will always help you (even if she grumbles about it first).
Making those happy memories and knowing that the relationship you have is a good one with a balance of 'who needs who' will make it much easier when she is not around.
Your mum is 66 so she may be around for another 30 years at least. This is a beautiful post in that you express your love for your mum – I envy the close relationship you have. I understand you completely, but your mum is only a 66 and healthy so the two of you probably have many trips to Matalan ahead of you.
What a heartfelt post, I am lucky too that my mum and dad both have a huge part in our lives as do my in laws.
Sometimes it is easy to just take them for granted instead of counting our blessings xxx
Really lovely post, your mum sounds gorgeous!
I adore my Mum. I mean I know everyone adores their Mum and Dad but I truly don't know what I would do without my Mum and that intense feeling scares me. She is my best friend, and my hero and I respect her more than anything in the whole world. I don't ever go a day without talking to her and I see her most days too. She is an incredible grandma, an incredible Mum to me and my sister and just an incredible woman all round who has had her fair share of heartache but is forgiving kind and generous.
It is hard sometimes because I am a 'what if' person but we just need to be thankful and feel lucky we have such wonderful people in our lives.
What a beautiful post.
x
Awww I don't like to think about it either – too upsetting. Your post is a wonderful, touchy and loving tribute to your mum , maybe to all mums even, because they are amazing and love our children as much as we do – I feel so much joy seeing my mum with her two grandsons.
Hers to many more cups of pretend tea and fish fingers for lunch xx
Love this post. It echoes what I was thinking a few weeks ago. What if/when I lose my parents. I'm not ready to be a grown up and am still quite attached to them. My mum will be looking after my LO too and I feel really happy about that and it makes me wonder… Will she be able to look after another, if I have another? And I don't mean just because I need a babysitter but I want my kids to have that bond with their grandma.
What a lovely moving post chick. It's something I don't think much about, because I can't bear to. However, as much as thinking about it makes me cry, it also makes me count my blessings and reminds me how great my parents are, even if there are times they irritate the hell out of me. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like without them, not only for me but for the kids too. I'm so pleased they have a much closer relationship with all their grandparents than I ever did x
I just want to say, as clearly our lives our very different that i love you very much and you write so well. This post had me in tears because you are right. Even after everything. You are so right.
very very moving. Your mum is one lucky mum to have you. x
Sounds like you have a lovely close relationship with your mother and she must feel treasured by you. I lost my mother two years ago and sometimes the grief can leave me breathless even now. She was the centre of my family. The only one who wanted to know everything I needed/wanted to say. So many times I have found myself standing by the telephone about to call her to talk about something on my mind and then realising I can't and there is no one else who would want to spend 30 minutes listening and I walk sadly away. The time will come and it will be hard but then you don't want it the other way as that would cause her so much pain. Give you Mum a hug from me. x
What a beautiful celebration of your mum. Fear of loss, pain of actual loss, both are so tough, whichever side of that we're on. What matters is loving the little things, like imaginary tea x
A beautiful post.
As you know I lost my Mum nearly 9 years ago & yet I still go to phone her to tell her important news – she was always 1st to know.
I miss her just popping round – usually with bags of clothes & toys that she couldn't resist for Eldest Son.
I wish she was still here & I urge everyone not to take their Mum for granted.