In the UK, tomorrow is Mother’s Day, and if my granddaughter is clear of COVID, we are going out for a meal. If not it will be next week, but that’s okay because I need all of my children to be safe. My son worries more than most, and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. I wouldn’t see them if they were still testing positive, but he’s scared not enough time has passed for the negative test.
I will still feel special, and there is always Skype to keep in contact. The one thing we are used to is being together, even if we aren’t.
My own mum died eleven years ago, my mother-in-law, nine. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of them. My mum was a formidable woman, and for anyone in England, Catherine Tate’s Nan, is very similar. My mother-in-law was my drinking partner, and the only other person who liked drinking whisky. She always took my side, even against her own son.
Mum had her opinions, but a kind heart. She would do anything for anyone. I miss seeing her. Especially on a Sunday where I would watch Columbo with her, drink lots of tea, and make sure she ate something. Growing up, we weren’t close, but when my dad died, we were connected by him. I learnt there was more to my mum.
She always insisted I ring her when I got home, even when I was forty, and was always on my side. She would always insist I wear a scarf on a winters day. Moan about my husband’s lack of help, and loved her grandchildren with an immense heart.
I miss her so much.
This is a pillow, made for me by my talented daughter, she always makes me cry with her gifts. My son, my handsome, amazing son will make me coffee, dinner, and make sure I don’t do anything tomorrow. Being a mum is the most special thing on this earth.
Whatever happens I feel blessed.