My mum was the strongest person I've ever known; she bore the brunt of an alcoholic husband destroying everything they'd created, she watched her parents, her brother, her sister & her dear friends die & throughout all of this she was the shoulder for everyone else to cry on, she was the shield that stood between her children & all the darknesses of the world.
And despite being a tiny woman, flighty & slight of frame, she could still beat my 18 year old self at Mercy & was the one who could get the lid off the jar of jam.
I only ever saw my mother sick a handful of times & it terrified me. My mother was invulnerable.
Almost.
She carried on regardless & somehow, somewhere, always, always, always found the strength to smile & was quick to do so. She was good fun.
She would iron my socks & underpants in winter so they'd be warm, despite me telling her how pointless it was. She always wanted to hold my readybrek hands in winter even when I was far too old to agree.
I'd give anything to have her hold those hands now.
There was no pretense with my mum, no bullshit, & I admired her for that the most; she was kind, generous & forgiving. I never knew her to be malicious in anyway. She had no time for it. She would often say, when as a boy I'd fallen out with friends, or later with girlfriends; "I don't know why you just all can't get along". I often think the world should've taken note.
After I was unfairly dismissed from a job my mother, unbeknown to me called my boss & then his boss & then his until she got to the top of the company, berating each one in turn until they offered me my job back, a reluctant handshake from a recalcitrant child. I have no idea what she said but I can imagine her making each of them feel like they were 7 years old, caught shoplifting Woolworths pick n mix.
My favourite story is from my graduation; I had tickets pus extra tickets for my mum, her friend & a whole host of other friends who wanted to come & see me in my cap & gown. Unfortunately those tickets were still in my pocket when I went off to get the aforementioned attire. With the ceremony about to start I ran back to where I'd left everyone to find them gone. My head spinning wildly as I entered the hall I saw everyone seated & smiling from a balcony above the stage. Later I discovered my mother had waved everyone through to the seats & when stopped & questioned by an usher stated simply "I don't need tickets" in a way that suggested that that was that & that that was enough. It was.
She would give you all she had and more even if all she had was nothing.
But don't take this from me- it's easy for a grieving son to idolise the dear departed, understand as it became even more clear to me; the funeral hall could not contain all the people who had come out to say their final goodbyes to my mother. People who were strangers to me but not I to them for my mother was friend to everyone she met & she always told them about her sons. I have never felt so proud to know any one person in all my life, on the day I said goodbye.
Of course, things weren't always idyllic- far from it at times. But those things seem so much less important now. I only wish they had at the time.
My Mum didn't understand a lot about my life, or my brothers, she'd probably understand even less about it now but that never stopped her from supporting either of us in what we did, no matter how unfathomable it might be. If there was ever to be a role model it would be her; she taught me to be generous & kind & considerate although perhaps she taught me, inadvertently, to worry too much too. She taught me a strength, although I can't always find it & good humour, ditto.
I miss my mum every day & while I'm thankful for the time we had, although I'll always wish we'd had more, I think the saddest thing is that you never got to meet her & the friend she would have been to you & the love she would have given.
She was mother, friend, sister, aunty & more to more than just those within her family.
I leave you with this photo- it's my favourite & yet it's of a woman I never really knew, taken years before I was born & yet it captures the spirit and the joy my mum carried with her her whole life, no matter what.
Happy birthday Mum. Ciders at half mast!. xx
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