many things to write and then I forget.
In a quiet moment this morning I had the very strong feeling of my mother’s presence. I had to use my fingers to count up how many years it has been since I had a Mum. I ran out of fingers before I discovered it was...
forty eight years. And you know something, I still miss her.
Why you might wonder, today of all days? I will tell you...
Twelfth Night. She was a little superstitious crossed with a light sprinkle of religious. Twelfth night was the night for the decorations to come down, no other. Over the years I have honoured her by putting my own spin on it by gradually squirrelling things away leaving the tiny nativity scene until Mum’s Night.
In the quiet of the house this morning, she was here, I felt her very strongly. I sat and spoke to her, not words, thoughts. It gave me much comfort after a strange
year here by the sea.
My lovely Mum
Yes, a lovely mum. How good she comes to sit with you.
ReplyDeleteFor the last year I frequently have the urge, the feeling I must call my mother. Just go around a corner to a phone and call her for advice. Soon this year it will be 21 years gone.
There is so much we don’t know Joanne. They live on in us, that in itself gives contentment, for me at least.
DeleteLX
I read but rarely comment. You must have been young when you lost your mother but how wonderful you still feel her presence. What would she think of trifle for breakfast? I personally am all for it. I cling to Twelfth Night although here in Canada few people have heard of it.
ReplyDeleteThe occasional comment is welcome, so thank you for that Susan. I am older than you might imagine, it is just that I have no plan to grow up!
DeleteYou stick with your lone Twelfth night ritual in Canada, standards must be maintained even if it is just you and me against the world!
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Beautiful post, lovely photograph. I have had a couple of similar things happen to me in the past - comfort when you least expect it. Wrap it around you and snuggle into it for a while, you lucky girl!
ReplyDeleteThat’s what mum’s do, they are there when you need them. You and I Elaine have spoken before about our mothers. A special relationship of many layers, all remembered with a huge dose of love.
DeleteLX
Sounds like you lost your mum about the same time I lost my dad. I miss him everyday too. Nearly 50 years. I was a rebellious teenager at the time. I wonder constantly how different my life would have been had he been alive during my adult years because I think it likely that things would have been different, choices I made etc. and my life would have been different. Thank you for sharing your mum and her photograph is lovely. x
ReplyDeleteI think we all look back and wonder Rachel. Since discovering meditation last year. I am freed of all those niggles and worries, rehashing of ‘what ifs’. Trouble now is, I am in danger of becoming a calm, mindful personage, which in itself is a blooming worry!
ReplyDeleteLX