A LETTER TO MY LATE MOTHER
`I miss my snowball-throwing companion — you!'
Dear Ma:
It has now been 27 years since I held your hand for the last time in the intensive care unit of the hospital on Miami Beach.
In a few days, our winter holiday, and your life, came to a sudden end. You were 95 years old.
So I thought it was time for another letter. I am sure you have heard about the devastating COVID-19 pandemic and the difficult time we are having.
Yes, I still live in the same apartment that you knew.
Remember how we used to gaze out the window at night, noticing a light shining in the window of the little house across from our building? We thought there must be a writer working there at night.
Well, Ma, the little house was torn down and a condo has gone up in its place.
I am now looking at its walls with a slice of street visible on one side and the parking lot on the other. Luckily, there are still some trees in the background.
The apartment is much as you left it, with a few additions, like a microwave, my computer and an e-reader. The pretty
area rugs have been removed to prevent falling. Yes, I now have a blood-pressure monitor and a special phone with large buttons that light up. It also has voice amplification, which is a big help since I now use hearing aids.
And I now use a cane just as you did, but I don't have a daughter to accompany me on my outings! Just kidding, Ma.
Some things have changed. Others remain the same.
Our cleaning lady — and by now family friend who has been coming here for 40 or so years — has stopped coming.
She, too, is getting on in years and is now staying at home.
My wonderful neighbour Ivor, whom you knew, is now a family man. He and his lovely wife Michele are there for me whenever I need help.
Toni, the hairdresser next door who you also knew, recently celebrated the 34th anniversary of her business. As you and I were among her first customers, she claims I came with the furniture!
Yes, I still drive a car, of course not the one you knew, although this one is in its 14th year now. I don't drive nearly as much or as far as I used to, and it's mostly in the daytime.
That brings me to another topic: Montreal! We still have long, snowy winters, but I miss my snowball-throwing companion — you!
The driving is much more difficult, too. You wouldn't believe all of the street closures, the Rue Barrée signs, the orange cones littering the city. Getting around is like an obstacle race!
I still attend St. Monica's church but now I don't sit in the back, like we used to. I sit near the front, so I can see and hear better.
There are new sights around town, too. We have a new Champlain Bridge spanning the mighty St. Lawrence River.
The Royal Victoria Hospital is no longer in that historic building on the mountain but has moved to a brand-new site, the Glen, not far from where I live.
Our musical venue is fairly new, too. Remember how we often visited the Place des Arts to hear the Montreal Symphony Orchestra? Well, they now have a beautiful home of their own, La Maison symphonique. I miss my concert-going companion.
Some things you knew are gone. Stores such as Eatons, Simpsons, Zellers all have shut their doors.
A lot of people shop “online” these days, but I prefer to shop in a real live store, like Hudson's Bay, though I don't get downtown as often as I would like.
I left the best to the last. Remember, Ma, how I admired those journalists who wrote in the Montreal Gazette and wished I could be among them?
Well, guess what? Now I am — at my age! I have my own column in the paper with my name and photo. It just goes to show that you should NEVER give up on your dreams!
I remain, as ever, your loving daughter, Alice