Then the School Secretary brought in a big bouquet of roses. Some of the roses were red and a few were white.
If your mothers were alive, we were to take a red rose. If our mother was dead, we were to take a white rose.
This was an astonishing day. Margaret, the over achiever took a white. Danny, who flirted with the law, took a white. The twins Joan and Gail both selected a white.
And David, the class clown and general pain in the neck also selected a white rose.
We learned so much about each other that day.
Influences that played out in behavior.
I was fortunate enough to take a red rose home to my mom.
An abandoned woman, struggling to raise two children on very little income. in a foreign country with no family and few friends.
This was before the days where single parent was a choice on an application.
I think now, of all the responsibilities her shoulders bore.
She got my brother through high School and also through UBC where he got a Masters degree.
She got me grown with a sence of self worth that helped me attain Miss Nanaimo and a brief modelling career.
We went without many things, but never love.
There were nights when my brother needed money for university, that we went without food. Kraft dinner was a treat and I will hate meat paste till my dying day.
We carried water in two large containers on a wagon 5 miles.
My mother always insisted that your clothes may be mended, but never torn. You may have to rinse you underwear out nightly
and put it over the stove to dry, but it must be clean.
When I got my first pair of shoes at 14, mother insisted that they be cleaned every night. She said if you wanted to judge a person’s character, look at the way they treat their shoes. And I still clean them before I wear then mom, and I can hear her saying, “Clean them before you put them away, not before your wear them.”
I lost my mom to Leukemia 1985
I still miss her. So So many times I have wanted to share things with her, or ask her counsel.
She taught me to sew, crotchet, knit, Gypsy patterning, cook and make do.She could make anything with out a pattern. A natural knitter, designer and creator.She was also a healer. A skill I wish I had paid more attention to.
Each passing year though, I get more like her. I look a lot like her. her hair was naturally dark to the end of her days.
She loved her dog like a child, and had a little corner where she created her crafts. as I do. I so resemble that. Even my son mentioned it. many things I would like to share with her.
Mom I hope you have that mansion, and I hope the streets are paved with grass, you liked that better than gold. I hope that dogs go to Heaven because it would seem unlike the Heaven I imagine if there were no pets to love.
I cannot give you a rose this year mom. Please accept my gratitude and my words. Thanks for being my Mom.