Mother’s Day

Monday Memoir BadgeDear Mum Another year has flown by – forty-seven years.   You would think it would get easier but it doesn’t seem to.  In fact the older I become the more you are in my thoughts.  There are so many unanswered questions that will forever remain so. This time last year, as I sat in Church I remembered things I learned from you.  I learned not because we spoke about them but because you lived the lessons.  Would it surprise you to know that I am still bewildered by your death?  Funny, huh!  Well, maybe not, but it seems odd that someone as old as a grandmother can still miss her mother. This year I thought about all the time we spent in hospitals.  You spent a lot of time in and out of those wards and at one point the staff were like extended family, even the ferocious ward matron softened when she saw us, again.  The Red Cross ladies were part of the hospital scene as they pushed trolleys from ward to ward selling magazines, second hand books, sweets, cigarettes and newspapers.  I remember the ladies who took me for walks when the doctors did their rounds. You worked from home when you were well enough.  As a secretary for the fundraising section of the Red Cross.  Each week a full dictaphone tape of correspondence was delivered to be transcribed onto letterhead.  These were collected at the end of the week when another tape arrived and enough stationery to complete the task.  I liked the typewriter erasers, the ones that looked like pencils, they had a pointed eraser at one end and a brush at the other to flick the mistakes off the page. My job was to put together the sets of paper.  One letterhead and three blank pages separated by carbon paper, the blue carbons were the messiest and it was hard not to get fingerprints on the letterhead.  You paid me one cent a set, which was good money.  The princely sum of ten cents meant a trip to the sweet shop where such a sum could buy a packet of apricot sherbet, anise seed balls (blackballs) and gob-stoppers – the ones that changed colour and stretched your cheeks till they hurt.  I spent a lot of time looking like a chipmunk. They were good times when I felt safe, just you and me.  The afternoons, after school,  when we sat at the dining room table – you pounding out those letters, while we caught up with my school day.  Those were the the times you nurtured my sense of humour and my love of silliness.  You’d be proud to know I still have an abundance of both. Some of the silliness and humour is  not always appreciated outside the family unit, although I can’t understand why!  It helps keep me sane grounded and reminds me that no matter how serious life can become there is always a place for silly and funny.  Both your grandchildren are endowed with a healthy portion of these family traits.  Thank you for the gift of laughter and your love of life. I miss you still. Happy Mother’s Day.

One thought on “Mother’s Day

  1. Lovely memorial, Linda. It’s 21 years since my mother died, and my greatest regret is that I didn’t get to know her. Because I married and left home aged 20, I hadn’t got to know her in an adult relationship. The visits I made back to the family home were never long enough to create a closeness.
    Like you, I miss my mum. It’s as if I too was still a child. I never got the chance to see and know the real person and I miss that greatly.

    Liked by 1 person

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