MOTHER

In 2015, I wrote a post on this blog about my Dad (See FATHER, published 29th May 2015) and now, to complete a symmetry of sorts I present this tribute to my Mother. A celebration perhaps, but more an appreciation.

Mum left us too suddenly on 4th October 2019. In many ways it was as close to what she wanted for her journey through the veil as could be reasonably expected. Her passing has troubled me ever since. I feel as if I never had the opportunity to say goodbye, at least not with the understanding of it being the last time. No amount of rationalising can remove the feeling of not being with her at the end.

At this time I can only repeat much of what i shared at Mum's funeral service in St Kiaran's Church in Campbeltown.

Dad and Mum at Dalbuie (circa 2007 perhaps)

"Farewell and God bless you Mum, Jackie, Auntie Jackie, Grandma, Great-Grandma, Darling, and when you've been particularly outrageous, 'Mother!' There are any number of other affectionate terms for Mum; because people loved her, and she loved people. She related to young and old alike and that quality, maybe more than any other of Mum's many attributes, set her apart. 

"As teenagers, Ann, Rory and I were regularly told 'Your Mum's so cool!', or at least whatever the equivalent was in the 1970's. And she was. Mum would give me a telling off for using 'she', because 'she is the cat's mother'. 
(I can say that I am still uncomfortable using 'was', because Mum still 'is', just as Dad still 'is' after his passing nearly 10 years ago now)

"Our friends readily recognised something that we might otherwise have missed in our Mother, which I believe was a readiness to accept individuals as they are, not being judgemental or dismissive, not taking or assuming an elevated position, but instead coming alongside. Mum was not 'she'. Mum was 'a modern woman' maybe before the term existed. Certainly she was someone with 'a mind of her own' and encouraged that in us in a quiet way. 

"You don't have to be like everyone else. I cannot speak for my siblings but I for one found that very difficult at times - isolating - but character building; thinking for yourself and not just accepting a thing without question. I recall a friend at school telling me that he admired the way that I would not just follow the herd and be popular, but stand on principle or belief. It was Mum, not Dad that taught me that. Mum always managed to be a friend to our friends, not just 'our Mum', while at the same time keeping herself to herself, a difficult trick to pull off. As an example of this, on a Saturday night, I would often find myself at my best friend's house and his mum would cook us our evening meal ... what used to be called 'high tea', of breaded lemon sole and chips, or the like ... but if I invited my friend home, I knew that:

1. I was very welcome to do so. Just one friend? Invite as many as you like! 
2. If tea was on offer; I would have to cook it, and thus I became an expert purveyor of marmalade sandwiches. 

This attitude, I realised, was never an unkindness, for Mum was one of the kindest I have ever known; more, it was an expression of individuality, of a refusal to be trapped in a role of another's choosing. Sometimes I am sure, she couldn't be bothered and would rather continue reading or re-reading James A Michener, or Howard Spring or ... I cannot readily recall them all. Taylor Caldwell's Dear and Glorious Physician about St Luke was a particular favourite.

"Mum and Dad were avid readers, Mum the more so maybe, and she was well and widely read, with many an apposite quote or story to enliven conversation. She would tell us of childhood walks with her father (our grandfather, of course) who could name so many of the trees and wildflowers, a love of nature that never left her. Mum became a keen gardener (particularly with vegetables) and I found a photograph of her in the garden on a garden seat made by our Grandpa, with an impressive array of garden produce beside her. A first rate cook, an amateur artist, a seamstress (for a brief time she made stylish dresses for herself); whatever she turned her hand to was accomplished well. In fact, I have often found myself saying 'I remember Mum doing a bit of that ... '. She had many enthusiasms.

Mum with produce from the garden at 'Cuil na Caorunn', Bothwell

"She may have seemed and felt in her older sister's shadow, (Our Aunt was a well-respected medical academic and writer), but Mum was without doubt her equal, only without the public acclamation. And Mum was very proud of Aunt Ann's achievement. Mum inspired in her children enquiring minds and as I discovered in recent years, liked nothing better than a discussion on current affairs, Christian faith, some controversial television programme or other, comedy shows - she was one of the few parents of our time who found Monty Python's Flying Circus extremely funny - and she was a QI addict. Lately - at the instigation of great-grandchildren, she started watching 'Paw Patrol' - presumably to keep herself up to speed to engage with the under 5's in the family. (At this point in proceedings, Ella, great-granddaughter and the 'Paw Patrol' fan interjected with a comment I didn't catch, but which seemed to suggest that Ella had sole rights to watching 'Paw Patrol'.)

"I've never met anyone like Mum, and I am finding it difficult to understand that she is no longer with us, because you see, we haven't lost a parent or grandparent or mother-in-law; we've lost a friend and confidante; we've lost an inspiration. Who is going to listen to my hypochondria now? 

"I want to close with a few lines of verse that I found in Mum's things; I cannot find it anywhere else, so it is perfectly possible, likely even, that Mum wrote it herself:

The sun in gold resplendent glory,

Sinks to sleep beyond the sea

Then trees, against the afterglow,

Softly fret a filigree.

Our senses rest in twilight's shroud,

And greet the moon with joy subdued.

The silvered night stirs thoughts of childhood,

And soothes the soul with faith renewed.

"I asked Gill, which woman in the Bible did Mum resemble most? We both agreed on Esther. The Hebrew is Hadassah, which is 'myrtle' - a sacred plant and an emblem of love. I will not say 'Goodbye', but '... until we meet again'. 

George 14th October 2019"

I will hold onto that thought. Until we meet again. "Love you, Mum. See you soon" were my last words to her.