Mother’s Day for a motherless daughter

I am blessed by having an amazing family. My father is incredibly supportive, loving and encouraging even when I’m doing things he sort of wishes I wouldn’t (like moving to Africa). He is one of my most important mentors, and even though I sometimes groan, it makes me proud every time I hear “so you’re Reg’s daughter… he is such a wonderful man / doctor / teacher / whatever”. My sister is creative and loving and caring, and passionate about life and we have such an important bond. From my aunt in Toronto I have learned about being brave enough to do what your heart calls you to do, even if its unusual, despite the challenges, and my aunt & uncle in Vancouver have taught me about working towards balance in busy careers, and are wonderful friends.

But its Mother’s Day to day, and since Dec 1992, it has not been a favorite of mine, but rather a time of introspection, remembrance and also of grief. It seems incredible that it was 15 years ago that my mom was sick, having chemo, surgery and then more chemo. I came home for the summer, to be closer to my family and by August, it was clear that the chemo wasn’t helping and it stopped. I went back to school in Victoria and at the end of that term, was called back to Calgary. The pain of that fall was compounded by the fact that my then-boyfriend’s (and still one of my dearest friends) mother was also ill. In a 1 week period – bits of which I can still remember like they happened yesterday – his mother died, we grieved, had a funeral, I was called home, my mother died, we grieved, had a funeral. So many people came to me and mentioned what she had meant to them and I was touched and comforted by their words.

I was 21 years old, my sister was just 15. The day before she died, my mother apologized to me for what she was putting us through, for leaving us. Those were among her last lucid words that I remember. (Other than complaining about the leadership convention that was selecting Ralph Klein as leader of the Conservative party and predicting dire consequences from his leadership).

Even though it was so long ago, and I have many important role models, mentors and friends and a precious relationship with my dad and sister… I still do miss my mother. I wish she could see me now, having made it through my education, and following my dreams. I wish I could ask her advice on things, I wish I could know her now, as a woman, as a wife, as a mother; now that I am older, hopefully more mature. I remember that she was intelligent, fun loving, passionate, opinionated. She was a great cook, a hard worker, and a natural leader. I have so many questions for her, every day. When she was in her late 20s and unmarried, did she ever despair of finding the “right” person? What was it like for her as a nurse in a time of lack of equality for men and women, such division between doctors and nurses? How did she cope with being an immigrant in a time and place that was hostile to foreigners?

I won't ever have answers to those questions, or many others. But I will always remember her, and cherish her memory. And every year, Mother's Day will be one of her days of remembrance.