My mum didn't give birth to me. I arrived conveniently on the door step six weeks after my illegitimate entrance into this world. For thirty-eight years I gave her headaches, happiness, tears, laughter, worry and sadness, as only a child can do. All she took from it was love.
We had a great relationship. She was small, a bit feisty and we shared a love of 'off the wall' humour and daft conversations. The only thing we never agreed on was her unreasonable passion for football.
.
In 2002, she quickly followed my dad to the otherworld and made me an orphan. On her last day in this world we had a conversation that went something like this...
"You're going to sneak out the back door, aren't you?"
"Of course. I don't want you here when I go" she said.
"Mum!"
"Don't argue, I'm your mum and I always will be."
"I know."
"Now listen. You're a little shit, I love you, now bugger off."
She buggered off that night, and not long after I started writing. Funny the things that a localised apocalypse can bring.
(the roses above are called 'My Mum' - I have some in my garden)
23 comments:
Wonderful stuff here. Thankyou.
My mother, in bed in a nursing home in icy January , said to me : " Your hands are cold. DO put those gloves on!"
I was her 45 yr old child and she died 5 minutes later.
It's actually a very happy memory, strangely enough...my mum, ALWAYS caring..
Beautiful insight into real life - and death. Thanks for sharing.
So few words - so much love.
Debi, you said it very well for me too. Real life and death, captured very well. I am just off to visit mine now...
It's Mother's Day - what can I say. I miss her.
Thanks for reminding me to phone mine. Sounds like your Mum was great and there is nothing unreasonable about a passion for football, that just makes a well rounded personality!
This was very moving
Minx. The bugger off bit is priceless! :)
Minx, lovely. I lost my Mum a year after my accident, I too miss her, as Dad does.
Anniversaries, birthday's etc don't get any easier - you just learn to celebrate them in a different way.
Shameless, she was always telling me to 'bugger orf' - I never did!
Big hug to you Ms Minx.
Big pat back, Mr Dog.
Very moving. Thanks for sharing, Minx.
Oh Minx,
You made me tear up and reach for the phone.
And so you should, Roberta, phone I mean, but I am worried that I seem to make you cry - a lot!!!
This is not a sad post. Mum's contract finished in 2002 and I am far enough down the road to be able to look back and smile.
She called me (endearingly!)'rotten child' and I called her 'crap mother' - we understood each other! I am grateful.
Hi Minx, my first visit to your blog, what a wonderful picture you have painted of your relationship with your mum.
lovely x
she sounds a right little minx - just like you xx
ahh, roses.
beautiful but thorny...
I wrote a piece last week about my nan's recent passing and called it "roses".
Hello, Minx!
This work is very nice. Thank you
good week
It sounds like a beautiful relationship you had, Kate. And you're lucky--we're all lucky--that part is permanent.
She sounds wonderful. As all mothers do. Except perhaps my ten year old would not agree with what I just said :)
well, OK.
I have a little trouble being sappy about my mother, because she's still around & a thorn in my side.
But, one day I know I'll be sorry about every mean thing I ever said to her.
Love the roses!
Oh don't get me wrong - it wasn't all sweetness and light! She liked Westlife (a boy band), fainted at the sight of the odd broken limb and couldn't make a cake to save her life!
She did have lots of shoes though - hmmmm.
How beautiful, so real xxx
It's a beautiful, loving essay, Minx!
Angela? Is it? You?
Thanks Susan. I was lucky.
Post a Comment