Mother’s Day or as my Mum would correct me “Mothering Sunday”
Posted on 6th March 2016 at 11:49
Yesterday I popped into the supermarket to get a few essentials and there it was – the massive display of flowers, pot plants & baskets etc. reminding shoppers “Not to forget Mum on Mother’s Day.” I was hardly going to forget! Today is the first Mothering Sunday since Mum died last spring so I’ve probably never been more aware that this weekend is the traditional time to say “thank you”.
My Mum was a very pragmatic woman who didn’t expect to be taken out to lunch on this day “it will be too busy, expensive and service will probably be slow – better to go on a different day.” She did have some expectations though – a bunch of daffs and a card and she was happy.
Mothering Sunday without your mum
So as I wandered past the vast floral display in the shop I was wistful, remembering previous presents and outings, (not all of them successful!) but this happy/sad meandering was brought up short when I realised they didn’t have any daffodils.
I was irritated! How can it be Mother’s Day without them? Of course it has fallen early this year so perhaps the suppliers aren’t up to it, but spring is early this year too and there are lots of the bright sunny flowers in the verges in our village...so surely the flower farmers should be “on it”?
The practical part of me - I am after all, my Mother’s daughter - remembered that I don’t need to buy any this year, a wave of sadness hit me. Gosh but I miss my Mum! I then noticed they did have little pots with several mini daffodil bulbs for only £1. A smile returned to my face. I decided to buy a couple. I was going to see a friend so I got one for his Mum who I always liked and now rarely see, and one for me, to brighten my kitchen and stimulate memories.
Last year my brother and I both got Mum daffodils in pots so they would last longer and she could enjoy them more. We all had a lovely day at my brother’s new home and Mum thoroughly enjoyed herself. The very next day she was diagnosed with the aneurysm that would kill her just a few weeks later. She wasn’t interested in expensive gifts – to her the best gift was time with her family. We both saw the irony a few weeks later at her funeral – by this time daffodils were over so her floral tribute was a stunning display of pink roses which she also loved. Ironic as, for this pragmatic, thrifty woman we loved we spent a few pounds on daffs that she got to enjoy and hundreds on roses that she wouldn’t.
Today my heart goes out to anyone who has lost their Mum or who never got to have a loving relationship with theirs, grieving this loss is just that much harder when everywhere you go is pasted with messages that assume everyone has a Mum that should have a gift.
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