Memories of mother bring great comfort
My mother died in her early 80s. Her thinking was clear and her body was mobile, with the help of a walker that was required following her first stroke.
I think of her daily and can often clearly see her sitting on a kitchen chair in the woods or speaking words of encouragement to me from the back seat of my car.
Feeling her presence gives me great comfort and reassurance.
Like most women of her generation she did not own a car, or have a paid job, but she prized education and was proud of the fact she could spell any word.
Without her, my own A-Z Crossword Dictionary is in tatters. Homework for my brothers and me consisted of writing at the dining room table and calling out any question we encountered and waiting for her to respond with the answer.
She was a high-school graduate whose children all completed university and beyond, of which she was very proud.
When my mother died, I chose not to attend her funeral. I had left my family home as a young woman with dreams of living in the mountains anywhere west of the middle part of the country.
Because of the miles between us, I did not see my mother often over the years. My own daughters knew both their grandparents, but the memories are mostly in photographs.
When my mother died, I told my brother if he needed me or if I could help in any way (the funeral arrangements had been made years before), I would fly back and contribute whatever was possible.
He assured me the choice was mine and he fully understood my wishes.
I had very recently gone on my own and spent time with my mother. My dad had died a few years previously and she carried on in her inimitable style.
Peaceful in her lovely suite in a manor which included a mini-hospital on the lowest level and a lifetime plan that meant she was there to stay.
She was fussy about her appearance. Never missed a hair appointment or a stretch class in the morning. I recall so fondly sitting near her in the activity room and holding my legs extended to the count of 10. She always wore tennis shoes and colourful tracksuits in stocking pink, size 8.
She loved Wednesday night in the library and I joined in the board room. Canasta was her favourite card game. Because she had cooked and cleaned all her life, retirement was heaven on earth and I loved going to dinner with her, at Hawthorn Manor, where she lived, or out to the Red Lobster, a favourite treat.
She loved Sunday services and singing hymns Sunday evenings. When I said goodbye, I had a genuine feeling of well-being and affection.
When she kissed you, she patted you on the back many times, which is a mannerism I have picked up.
When my mother died a few days after I returned from my last visit with her I chose not to fly back and attend her funeral.
I preferred to remember her alive and well and the great gift of my life.
My mother left a modest inheritance for my brothers and me, which was “shared and shared alike,” but it was her enthusiasm and optimism, both priceless qualities, that I most treasure today.
All this is how I remember her today.
When my North Vancouver daughter (now a grandmother herself) was here recently I was reminded of how the mother-daughter relationship is the most important one we have.
I am hoping to spend more time with my daughter at specific dates when we can be together and take walks, watch a movie, cook ribs, and shop until we drop, our favourite thing.
I hope to be more honest and put my early expectations for her on hold.
I’d like her to know I am here to protect and help her whenever she needs me. I’d like to support and encourage her ideas and activities even though they are sometimes foreign to me.
I’d like us to talk more and if she asks for my advice (which would be something new) I would like to be the one who listens. Period.
I think my relations with all my daughters will continue to be good as almost all mid-life women report improved communication over the years. We have had our share of conflicts and complicated emotions but all those mixed feelings are made up of the life force holding us closer and closer.
My daughter and I share a love of Mexican food, red wine, massages, and strolls along the Peachland waterfront.
We both love music and she keeps me up on the contemporary scene.
I was surprised to learn her favourite concert recently featured Dolly Parton in Vancouver. The Dolly Parton concert sold out in minutes. I asked if she arrived by helicopter and brought a full band and dance company.
No, she appeared with three musicians with guitars and simply sang the many songs she has composed.
Of course, my daughter and I love Beethoven and share a quirky sense of humour.
She laughs when I recall the good old days when water was free and pornography was expensive.
Now that Gail has been a mother herself she understands who does the work of 20, for free.
Jeanette Dunagan is an Okanagan artist who has lived in Kelowna for more than 40 years. Email her at jd2399@telus.net.