Today...
Today was that sort of day...
Today was that sort of
day when you sit on the floor with an aching back and your head deep
inside a cupboard as you reach for hidden pieces of an individuals
life...little treasures like a handwritten cook book that covers years
of life .....or an old baking dish that still holds imagined aromas of
long gone family roasts. My hand suddenly shook as I reached for a hand
engraved glass I made over 25 years ago..it had a flower on it and the
words that said...I love you mum...an overwhelming feeling of sadness so
deep flowed over me as the sun light hit the dusty green glass. I
shifted through all these treasures..And togethet we broke these solid
memories into piles of ...
Keep...or.... sell...
A little cook book found...with my child like hand writing covering the pages...
To mummy, I love you...was sprawled across a page...a gift from so long
ago...kept all these years...kept...even though the words were messy
and many were scribbled out and rewritten in an attempt to correct the
spelling .....
I handed it back to that worn beautiful hand
that reached for each item as I passed them...our hands brushed...a
touch so light...and I was taken back to days when my mother's hand was
smooth and strong...when it wiped the dirt or tears from my face or
brushed my hair back into ribbons and bows.
A wave of relief
flowed me...we were doing this together...my mumma and me...she was not
gone...she was right there still with me. I watched as she put the dog
eared book and engraved glass into the 'keep' pile and then that baking
dish...was placed into the 'no longer needed' pile that was growing
larger and larger... and again that wall of sadness made my heart moan
as I realised that no more would I smell my mumma's baking...no more
tins full of homemade biscuits...ohhh...those melting moments...that
tasted like summer oranges...I sighed and my back hurt more as I cleaned
out the cupboards wiping them of all memories.
Now.clean and
bare. Devoid of life and waiting for the next chapter...the next people
to fill them with treasures and memories that may remain dusty and
forgotten until another daughter or son with aching backs and hearts
reaches in.
Then I heard that familiar friendly sound that I
will always associate with my mother...the kettle bubbling happily..it
was time for a break..a cuppa...I smiled at my mothers beautiful face as
she poured out the amber liquid and I wondered...how many cups of tea
had she made me over the years???
So many... a cuppa to
celebrate a new job...a cuppa to just have a chat...and a cuppa to fix
up any thing and everything. As mum offered a store bought biscuit so
dry and plain, my smile disappeared as I ached for an orange yoyo or a
piece of mums rich fruitcake and I realised that one day...one dreadful
day I would be doing this again...on that last day...when my beautiful
mummy, mother, mum, mumma was gone... I fought back the tears as mum and
I sat sharing that pot of precious tea...
God my heart
lurched...with emotions sooo deep and mixed...joy and sorrow was
swallowed down with gulps of tea...I could not cry...I would not cry. It
as time for me to be strong as my mumma needed me to be.
It was that sort of day...
It was the sort of day that rain was predicted...clouds were just off
in the distance...hovering..waiting on the horizon and in my heart....
And I knew we may not get rain today but those clouds in my heart were
coming and nothing I could do would stop them.
My mum disappeared
into the other room and I heard a noise..My heart leaped when I
realised she had fell...tripped on a mat...I ran...terrified... she was
okay...she had fell down slowly and was not hurt...my fear turned into
relief as I sat next to her establishing that she was indeed all in one
piece.
Then my relief turned into grief as my Mumma began to cry
in my arms...her beautiful hands shook with the fright of the fall and
I held them tight willing them to stop shaking. Then I too let the
tears come...at last they were free to fall...we cried together soft
tears...as we cuddled on that bloody floor.
When my mum
struggled to get up...with props and chairs and cupboards placed
strategically around her to help her balance we were reminded of the
ridiculousness of old age and I made my mumma laugh as I promised not to
tell dad if she behaved herself and was a good girl and did not try to
do a bloody thing anymore...mumma said "You've been waiting a long time
to tell me that, haven't you?" I said ...yes...about 50 years..and then
we both laughed out loud but inside...inside I was still crying...I did
not want to be the strong one...the carer..the adult...in that instance I
just wanted to run back 50 years and be that little tiny girl cuddled
up in my strong mummy's lap.
I dont like watching my mum grow
frail...grow scared and old...but...but...I understand how very very
prevailed I am to do just that... Today I realised how wonderfully lucky
I am to have my mumma still and how bloody terrified I am of not having
her...
Today my back aches...but my heart aches more and I know...
Today was that sort of day...
That day that I will treasure forever...
