SOMETHING ABOUT A MOTHER

 

I don’t know why some memories are more powerful than others. It seems that much of what I remember from my childhood consists of slices of images and scents. 

So many of my memories revolve around my mother and it’s no wonder; she has been my guiding light. She has taken care of everyone in her life, leaving little time and attention for herself.

There were so many things she did to ensure that I had whatever I wanted and needed. She carved in stone, the fact that she would always be there for me; no matter what and no matter when.

Some of the most special moments my brothers and I spent with our mother took place on our “day trips”. My mom did not own a car until later in life. That didn’t stop her from taking us out to explore and experience Montreal.

I remember her bringing us downtown, to Ogilvy’s. The store was well known for it's Christmas window display, which featured a musical play with moving toy animals and characters. 

It took a good hour or so on 3 buses to get downtown. That meant that she had to wrap us up in all our winter attire, and then stand with us in the freezing cold waiting for the bus.

We would arrive at the store and line up to see what was going on in the window. I had to push my way to the front because I was too small to see over all of the people. My mother always had her hand wrapped around mine, never losing contact with me.

The other outing we often took was to the Cote St.Luc Shopping Centre, 45 minutes by foot from our house. It was winter time  when we first went on this journey. I was still too young to walk the whole way there and back, so my mother grabbed the sled from the garage, and set it up with blankets and a sturdy rope. She then placed me inside and carefully covered me in layers of soft blankets. My brothers were happy to trek through the snow competing to see who was faster. 

When we arrived at the mall, I figured my mother was going to have to sit down or possibly collapse. She lifted me out of the sled and carried it on her back. We were hungry so we went directly to the snack bar called “Le Picnic”. There we ordered sandwiches, soup and donuts for dessert. 

After lunch, we went to Junior Booty (a shoe store for children). Each of us was in need of new running shoes for gym class. My parents were not wealthy, they worked several jobs to make ends meet and to provide us with as much as possible. They were Champions of Sacrifices.

My mother didn’t have time to breathe. We arrived home at the same time as my father was pulling into the driveway. His first question to my mother was “What’s for dinner?”

She went straight to the kitchen and began preparing chicken, potatoes, rice, mini eggrolls - it was always a smorgasbord with my mother. 

That night, she tucked me in, and as always, read me a story, kissed me on the cheek and said, "I love you more than the stars in the sky."

Later in my childhood, I would watch her care for her mother, my grandmother, paralyzed from the neck down, from Multiple Sclerosis. It was horrific and deeply saddening to see my dear, lovely grandmother, bedridden, in such as state, that lasted for decades.

My mother had started working full time as a journalist, she continued to care for the four of us and her mother. She cooked and baked, and fed my grandmother, so she would not have to eat hospital food every day. She bathed her, rubbed lotion on her skin, was by her side through it all. The long term facility where my grandmother lived, became a second home for my mother.

I know that experience, caused trauma throughout my mother's entire being. It chiseled holes and grooves and cracks that would never be revitalized; pain that would never heal.

My mother is in her 80s now, although you would never know it. 

She recently retired from teaching at Concordia University. Her subjects included Journalism, Business Communication, Magazine Writing, Editing and more. Previous to that she was the Copy Editor of a newspaper for over a decade. She instilled, the importance in reading and writing in me, throughout my childhood and into my teens. She read to me all the time when I was a kid. She encouraged me to write my own stories, as an outlet for the kaleidoscope of emotions I endured in my adolescence.
            
                                        
                                                   My mom and our dog, Casey

I have dinner with her often, and sometimes, when she is in the kitchen cooking an incredible meal for me (and baking dessert); I watch her and I reflect back on her pulling me in that sled, on a cold winter’s day. I come to the conclusion that she is still pulling me on that sled; she is the rope, the strength, the will, and the conductor in my life. 

I envision her looking over her shoulder at me, her eyes sparkling and shimmering, amidst the snowflakes, that surround her in a swayable dance. She makes sure I am alright, and then she just keeps on trekking toward the blue horizon.

Sometimes, we take our parents for granted, especially when we are younger. Then, we suffer the loss of one of them, and come to the realization that the time for recognition is ultimately while they are still here. I love you Mom.