
Today is Mother’s Day in Canada. It’s an annual holiday where our spouses and offspring are supposed to celebrate all the blood, sweat, and tears that go into being a mother. In the pictrue on the left, that’s me and my mother taken 66 years ago. How I hated what I referred to as my Elmer Fudd hat, but now, I realize it was better than the green feathered thing she wore. Maybe this is where my lifelong hatred of hats comes from. Mom loved them. Of course back then, women had to have their heads covered in church and we attended regularly. But now, I don’t have to wear a hat, I attend church most Sundays on my computer, something that started during the pandemic and continues although I do make a personal appearance for the big days. But not today.
This Mother’s day is different for me because I no longer have a mother to celebrate. She died in February. So, instead of visiting her and bringing her flowers or a plant, I’ll be dropping by the cemetery to say a quick hello. I’ll bring new flowers to decorate the faceplate on the niche in the columbarium, spend a few minutes staring at the name, maybe even shed a tear or two, and then I’ll tell her I love her, but she won’t respond with an “I love you too, Sue.” There won’t be any hugs or kisses, just a simple walking away and getting back in the car.

Then, I’ll spend the day recalling the good memories I have of her. She had the darkest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. They sparkled with humor at times, but when she was angry they were so stormy they were almost black. As the years crept closer to the end and her mind wandered, I could tell by looking at her eyes whether or not she was with me or in her fantasy world.
She was 96 when her body started to fail her and her grasp on reality got more tenuous and while our last vists together weren’t the greatest, she always knew me, and when our time together came to an end, I would say, “Love you, Mom.” and she would answer, “Love you too, Sue.” Those are the words I’ll miss today.
Happy Mother’s Day to all who celebrate. This was one of Mom’s favorite songs since it had a version of her name in it.
it’s Mother’s Day here in Australia as well. My daughter is a great one for organising something for every occasion but she left it a bit late for MD as everything was booked out. Then she found an historic hotel in a country town an hour from home. We all arrived in pouring rain but enjoyed our family get together. We thought of mothers no longer with us and we’re grateful we had each other.
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My sons who live out of town emailed or called. My daughter made a dinner reservation for those of us not working today. Family time is the best. Happy Mother’s Day
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I laughed at your words describing her eyes… as most said you could tell my mother was mad by her eyes. Even though my mom had dementia, she never forgot me but sadly I didn’t have last words with her, just hand holding. Happy Mothers Day
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Hugs
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Hold on tight to all those wonderful memories. I lost my mother nearly fifty years ago. You never forget.🥂
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You must’ve been very young. I was blessed to have her as long as I did.
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A lovely picture of your mom. Savor the good memories. I don’t think we ever get over losing our moms. At 82, I still feel like a little girl at heart! Happy Mother’s Day. I enjoyed the song.
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I’m sad with you, Suzanne. I owned a dance studio–ballroom dancing–for a while and my oldest dancer was over 90. I love older people who still care about their appearance and themselves. Like your mom, in that photo, in the wheelchair. She’s gorgeous.
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My mother was a very attractive woman with beautiful skin. It wasn’t until the final months of her life that Mom showed her age.
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I still have my mother and my MIL who is like my second mother. My MIL just turned 95 and the same thing is happening to her that happened to your mother. It breaks our hearts watching this transformation.
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I wish I could reach out and hug you and give you the comfort I know you’ll need. Try to stay positive and remember her the way she was. A word of advice. Find someone you can talk to. Don’t bottle all the pain and sorrow inside. It’s taking me a long time to get over her loss even though it happened four years ago before her body failed. My greatest fear is that I’ll go the same way and put my family through this too. My imagination is already out there!
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