Thursday, April 1, 2010

April the first


I miss my mother. Still and forever. I hate that our conversation was interrupted and I am left with so many stories that I want to hear for the first or fifty-ninth time. Our mom liked April Fool's Day - you could see her memories of growing up with two brothers when it was time to play tricks. Oh, her tricks were pretty mild - the old "Oh look kids, an elephant on the street. It must have escaped from the circus" was a favourite but still - it was fun. She would tell us about how she and her friends had commandeered the loft of an old barn for meetings of their 'club' and used overturned boxes as their tables and chairs and how one day the boys had sneaked in downstairs and had inserted sticks through the cracks in the floor so they could move the tables and chairs around. What panic ensued as the girls thought it was ghosts!
I liked hearing about her time in Chicago and going to the zoo to see the lions fed on the way home from school. I liked hearing about how she coached boy's hockey (is that true or was she on the team?) I like hearing about how she met our father in a Winnipeg speak-easy - how her brother had called up to the three girls boarding together - come on - one of you has to come out and meet Mo and how it had fallen to my mother to be the one. How frightening and exciting is that story to young ears - why if she hadn't gone - we wouldn't exist! Is that why we like those stories of serendipity. The stories of her getting tuberculosis and having to stay in the 'san' for a time and how she enjoyed it. How the girls on her floor would send messages on lines down to the boys on the floor underneath and how a young man from her small prairie town stalked her in a dream one night and she found later he had been killed overseas in the war that was taking over the world as she was stuck in the 'san'.
So many stories that I would like to hear again - so many unanswered questions. I miss my mother and that is true.

12 comments:

Cruella Collett said...

What a beautiful tribute to your mother! I want to know everything about her now. She sounds like a wonderful person, reminding me slightly of the many, many stories I remember from and about my maternal grandmother. From the anecdotes you shared here, I got such vivid pictures in my mind, and I'd love to hear/see more. This was an absolutely lovely post!

Sue Goyette said...

Ah Jan, I bet your mother and her lovely, feisty spirit will find her way to you today. It's a sort of homesickness, isn't it? I'm thinking of you and your lipstick today. xo

Elspeth Antonelli said...

You've written a wonderful tribute and by sharing her stories your mother lives on.

Ann said...

This is a lovely post in honour of a much loved mother. What a treasure!

Talli Roland said...

What a great story about how your mum met your dad! Absolutely brilliant.

Really enjoyed reading this!

Jan Morrison said...

Thanks all you women! I'm glad I got to share my mom with you! She died 18 years ago today and I'm always surprised and glad in a weird way that missing her is still sharp.

Stacy Post said...

Jan, eighteen years must feel like forever since you've seen your mom. You are blessed to remember her in such an evocative way. She sounds like a lot of fun...reminds me a little of someone else. Hmmm. I wonder who that could be? :)

Jemi Fraser said...

She sounds truly amazing. You'll have her with you forever. Great stories.

Tricia J. O'Brien said...

What a lovely tribute. Even your comment that missing her is still sharp says so much about the depth of that relationship.

Jan Morrison said...

Stacy, Jem and Tricia - thank you for your comments. I spent a great day with my mother yesterday! She used to come down in the morning saying she had just dreamt of her mother and be quite pleased to have spent time with her so I've adopted that attitude.

Rayna M. Iyer said...

Your mother lives on in you, Jan. When I was reading your post, I was picturing you doing everything you said your mother did, and there wasn't one wrong note anywhere. She's left you her "get the most out of life" spirit, and that is the most wonderful gift anyone could give anyone else.

Jan Morrison said...

Thank you so much Natasha! I don't think of myself as much like my mom actually but in the light you paint it I can see this.