I was at my mother house less than two weeks ago. For that I am grateful. How ever I did not visit often enough and for that I am repentant. Mums memory was not as good as it once was. She asked me a number of times if I was older than Stephen (me). She wanted to keep Molly the Wonder and kept feeding her chocolate biscuits despite my telling her not to. Mothers! Molly of course wanted to keep her two cats ….in her tummy. Mum didn’t really like the picture I posted before, but as I said to her it was the nicest picture I had seen of her for a long time.
So now the change begins, learning to live without her. My mother lived in her house for 63 years. Shortly after arriving there I was born. . . . in the living room. There was never any way she was ever going to leave, the house had far too many memories for her and for that matter me as well.
I have memories of things that happened there. I actually have memories of sleeping in a drop side cot and sitting in a high chair. I remember both my mother and father teaching me to read (that was before I ever went to school). I recall my father teaching me to ride a bicycle and a warm cuddle form Mum when I fell I cut my knee. Being knocked over by a motor cycle at the end of our road when I was 3/4 years old. I remember Mum’s concern when she said to the dentist ‘I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt him’ and the dentists calm reply, ‘Mother we haven't touched him yet’.
I remember many, many things most of which have enriched my life. I do remember Mum and Dad always did their best for us.
I suppose most of all I remember a mothers love, for which there is no substitute.