What does it look like to celebrate Mother’s Day when my mother is no longer alive?

Seven years ago we said a final goodbye to her and I miss her more deeply as time goes by.

Mother’s Day seems especially poignant as the memories of her fill my mind and heart. Maybe it’s because I am a mother and a grandmother and I am committed to creating relationships with my family that will be nurturing for all of us.

My mother has left a rich legacy for her family and my desire is to honour her as I share the lessons of love she gave me.

I was 10 years old when my mother and I went to visit a woman in our small prairie town who was sick and lived alone. In those days, people like her were called “shut-ins.” I felt sad just hearing that word. Shut-in. What would that be like? I sat quietly while my mother visited with the woman. I looked around and wondered what life must be like for her. I saw her helplessness as she sat in her chair. She seemed unhappy as she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She appeared tiny and frail under the shawl that was wrapped around her shoulders. I wondered whether there was any fun in her life. The house seemed crowded with dark furniture and cluttered with papers and dishes. No toys, no pets, no music playing, no open windows to let in the fresh air of an early spring day. I was glad when we finally left.

As we walked home, I said to my mother, “I hope my life doesn’t turn out like hers.” My mom stopped and looked me in the eyes. “You have a choice about that, Marjorie. Your life doesn’t have to be like hers at all. It’s up to you what your life is like.” And we kept walking.

Looking back at my younger self, I now realize how powerful that interaction was. I was told that I had a choice in what type of life I wanted to live. I may not have fully understood what this meant at the time. However, I grew to trust that I could take actions to enjoy my life and go for my dreams. My mother gave me this gift and I have never forgotten her words.

Life was physically demanding for my mother when I was a child. I was the oldest of six children within ten years, and I saw firsthand how hard my mom worked. She heated water for laundry, and I hung the diapers on the line. She tended the coal furnace and cooked for our large family, using produce from our garden. She had a positive outlook and often sang as she ironed and baked bread. She focused on what was going well, and rarely complained. As I helped her with household chores, I not only learned the skills needed to keep a clean house and cook tasty meals. I also learned about the power of a positive mindset and I saw the possibility of feeling joy in the midst of tasks that needed to be done.

I grew up in a small town where my father was the local church minister. His salary was minimal, and my mother struggled to feed our large family on their low income. The term “poor as church mice” comes to mind. As the pastor’s wife, she was often expected to have visiting speakers for a meal. I was a young teen when my mom felt free to share a burden that she had been feeling. How could she compete with the other women who had lavish spreads when they had company? She couldn’t. Here is what she told me: “I am not entertaining my guests. I am welcoming them with hospitality.” She graciously served a simple meal along with lively conversation and laughter. To this day, I am inspired by her choice. My husband and I host potluck gatherings and practice the gift of hospitality, instead of focusing on entertaining.

My mother was courageous. She faced adversity with a practicality that helped her overcome challenges. When she was in mid-life, she got her driver’s license and renewed her nursing credentials. My father went back to school for his teaching degree and she took on the role of earning money for the family’s needs. My husband and I faced upheavals and change in our life together and I know that her example gave me strength to adapt.

My mother coped by doing. She didn’t have much time to reflect, rest, and renew her personal energy. Life was full of demands and others who required her help. I know this was due to her personality and also the culture in which she was living. Women served and put others first. I admire her compassion and generosity. However, over the years, I learned about the importance of self-awareness and showing compassion to myself. Because of this focus, I am able to give to others without being depleted.

My mother was proud of me and encouraged me to follow my desires. She was thrilled when I chose to become a nurse and she had a keen interest in my career. She never criticized my choice to move away as a young bride. She was happy for my adventures. I think about myself and wonder if I am able to give my children this freedom. I want to support them as they follow their goals, whatever their choices may be. I am grateful for the way Mom cheered me on and I want to have the courage to be like her in this regard.

My mother loved people. She had a natural ability to start conversations wherever she found herself. By the end of an elevator ride, she would have connected with at least one person riding with her. And, because of her smile and friendly approach, she was usually rewarded with a warm response. I have experienced the power of a kind word to strangers because of her example. I am inspired to reach out to others because of her.

My mother had a strong faith in God. She prayed, sang hymns, and read her Bible regularly. She radiated love and acceptance toward others. She was curious, rather than judgmental, about different life styles and ethnic backgrounds. Her God was one of Love. Her smile and welcoming presence came from her deep, personal relationship to her faith. I am inspired to know that there is a Higher Power that is Love and Grace.

When my mother was near the end of her life, she lived in a care home. Her memory was failing and she didn’t always know me. One day we were sitting quietly side by side, after looking at a family photo book together. She moved her hand to my arm and started slowly caressing my skin. No words. Just her loving touch. I hardly dared breathe. This was a new experience for me. And I received with a full heart.

It is never too late to be loved. Now she had the space to be quiet and show her affection in this way. I was touched and moved.

I feel my mother’s presence as I share these memories with you. She is smiling as I write, and I can hear her laughter. She would love to share a loaf of her fresh baked brown bread with us. This is a gift I am passing on to my family. Home baked bread that reminds us of our mother and grandmother. The other gifts are sprinkled throughout my life, and I am grateful for each one of them.

Thank you for witnessing my stories about my mother. As I receive her gifts of love, I know that I will pass on this love to others.

Happy Mother’s Day!

A photo of me putting flowers on my mother’s grave:

My mom’s brown bread:

A collage I created about my mother’s attributes a few years ago as I celebrated her birthday:

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