2 posts tagged “mother's day”

So, after the butter chicken / saag paneer / shrimp madras feast last night, Miriam and I swung by those two convenience stores on Gerrard that seem to be highly competitive regarding plants this time of year. When I drive by this corner, I hear Dueling Banjos in my head. Two Asian owners trying to out supply the neighbourhood in greenery.

They were the only places I could think of that might have a decent plant/flower at 8:30 p.m. on a Saturday. One of them was open and I was utterly charmed by a yellow flower in a pot.

Me to Store Owner: This is really lovely - what kind of plant is it?

Store Owner, smiling broadly and helpfully: I have no idea! (laughter)

OK. Even though I'm the worst indoor or outdoor gardener in the world, as evidenced by the fact that I killed two of Martina's plants since she moved to Chicago, I've changed my plans because I'm quite smitten with this little plant. At first, I thought, well, I'll plant it here on the grounds of the building, somewhere inconspicuous. I looked around and didn't see a spot where someone wouldn't come along and point and say, "Contravenes our rules!" and yank it out. Then I thought, ok, I'll put it here in my window box. Then I looked at the window box and realized it needs more maintenance than I have the time or patience for today. Then, finally, I have decided to put it in one of the pots recently vacated by one of Martina's sorry bits of greenery. She was reasonably forgiving of me last weekend, but I doubt she'll leave anything green in my care again.

Like a lover who has jumped in bed before a suitable introduction, I am now staring shyly at this thing and wondering if it has a name. Instructions for care and feeding? A temperament to be considered? (Danica? Help!)

Pretty Flower

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Pretty Flower

1 comment

I'm trying to remember what I did on Mother's Day, 10 years ago, but I just can't pull up the specifics. I know I did *something*, probably some combination of card / flowers / dinner / visit. I remember clearly that I spoke with Mom a  few weeks later, on Wednesday, June 3, 1998, in the evening.  We talked every Sunday and every Wednesday. On that particular Wednesday, she was excited about being almost ready to go back to bowling, having almost fully recovered from carpal tunnel surgery on her wrists. She had survived two rounds with cancer, both treated surgically, and a chronic lung issue, probably emphysema, that was never properly treated. But what she was most excited about was getting movement back in her wrists and being "allowed" to return to bowling. She'd been to her GP that day, in fact, and, in addition to getting some prescriptions renewed, she got the a-ok for bowling, starting the following week.

My brother Ben jumped in on that call for a few minutes, as per usual, just to check in.

I was excited myself as my partner at the time, J, and I were flying out the next day for a four day getaway to Halifax, a city I'd visited briefly and really liked but hadn't explored much. We also had an overnight booked in Lunenberg that I was really looking forward to. I'm sure I rushed through this call with some impatience as I wasn't entirely packed and ready for an early flight the next day.

We closed with loving words, I recall. Rushed, but loving - as per usual.

Our dog, Freddie, was about seven months old and was staying with Dennis the dogwalker and Dennis' dog, Hennessy. Dennis had our trip itinerary, contact info and so on. No one else did - it was only four days after all.

Our flight was delayed for at least two hours on the tarmac @ Pearson. When we finally arrived in Halifax, it was go go go to explore and check it all out. On the Saturday night, our last night in Halifax before heading to Lunenberg, we landed at a lovely seafood place on the water. I had lobster and wine. I think the meal started with a bisque. I had an objective of eating as much lobster as possible on this trip. :-) We then proceeded (waddled) from the restaurant to a dessert place, the one down on the waterfront or close to it, for something yummy. Then to a nearby Irish pub and indulged in beer and singing and, well, carousing. Lots of singing. I loved it.

It just occurred to me that I have no photos of that trip at all.

Got back to our hotel room at about 12:30 or 1:00 a.m. There was a light flashing on the hotel phone and I knew immediately that something was very wrong. There were two messages to call home and the voices, my sister-in-law Sue and my brother David, were very distressed. I called David and learned that Mom had died, suddenly, in her rhubarb patch around dinner time the night before, on Friday. She wasn't found until the next morning by a neighbour who was quite traumatized by this. She had gone out to fetch rhubarb make her grandson, Alex, a pie for the next day. She apparently was lying there quite peacefully, with some rhubarb stalks in one hand and a plastic bag and a knife in the other. There was clearly no attempt on her part to rise - she was dead when she hit the ground, apparently.

Died, June 5, 1998 in the evening. However, the coroner issued the death certificate for June 6, 1998 as that is when she was found.

Stunning news to receive in a hotel room in Halifax after a raucous pub night. I went immediately into a state of functional shock. What has to be done? (emergency airline tickets back ...)  Who has to be called? (the b & b in Lunenberg ...) Air Canada was actually quite gracious and granted us compassionate seating at a reduced fare.

I remember lying awake staring at the ceiling all night. Still had alcohol from our night out in my body and the news was just too sudden to comprehend.

Things had been quite frantic back in Ontario as the family tried to track me down. Not only was Dennis the only one in Toronto who had our itinerary and contact info, he didn't live in the neighbourhood and only one other neighbour, @ #5, was connected to him in any way. In desperation, late on Saturday a.m., my friend Angela's brother, Greg, started knocking on doors at #1 to ask if anyone had our travel itinerary. Ed and Louise - neighbours who first introduced us to Dennis - knew how to reach him.

We know now that Mom had an aortic aneurysm. Ben has had one, and survived luckily, in 2005. Our maternal Grandma died suddenly too, at age 93, in front of her beloved 100 Huntley St. - we suspect aneurysm.  I'm having  some test done every few years to check the walls of the aorta but I don't have the stress of aging (not being 93 yet) or 40 years of smoking. I'm trying to remove the stress of extra weight.

I learned two things from this experience. Probably more, but two come to mind:

a) Leave contact information with more than one person. E-mail makes this easy. Create a distribution list of half a dozen people who might need to reach you for some reason. Fire off flight and hotel/accommodation info. Dates, etc. Be reachable.

b) Tell the people you love that you love them. I miss my Mom, no question. I must mention this, especially to the people who knew her, frequently. She'd be insanely excited at how my life has turned out, the things I've done and the kind of work I've been able to do. She was pretty proud of me and never let me forget it and, you know, sometimes a girl just needs her cheering section. :)

What I do not have are regrets. Mom and I went through quite a long process regarding my lesbianism. She wound up with a comfort level that impressed me - she sure didn't start that way. She got there on her own, it seems. She was always loving and welcoming to my partners - but we were never allowed to sleep in the same bed in her house. Ever. I think she would have got there, eventually. She was on her way.

About five years before she died, I wrote her a one page letter, three paragraphs only I recall, thanking her for being such a great Mom. I heard my friends complaining about varying kinds of abuse, about being tossed out of their families for various reasons, about being left out of wills ... and I looked back on my childhood, my relationship with my Mom and felt profoundly, deeply lucky. She did everything she could to give me a rich and complex life. Anything I indicated an interest in, or a passion for, she made it happen. Music, sports, theatre ... she would drive me anywhere to do anything. Swimming, hockey, fastball, rehearsals ... all pretty amazing given that we lived well away from town where most of this happened. I used to wonder if my Mom had a life. She did, she would say ... me. How great, and humbling, is that?

It was my job to go through her papers after she died and that letter was on top of everything, on her dresser. She had a filing thing for papers, bills, important stuff, and that letter sat on top of it all. I'm told she showed it to every one of her friends after she received it. I think she looked at it a lot.

Note: If you decide to do this, and you are writing to someone over 60, write it, print it, sign it, snail mail it. Give them something tangible they can take to the coffee shop and show around.

So, as much as I miss my bi-weekly calls with Mom, and occasional visits, and making mental note of "Oh, I must tell Mom about this ..." when interesting things happen ... I don't feel that she and I had tons of unfinished business or baggage. It feels ... clean. It's ok.

I'm going to mark Mother's Day this year by planting a flower in Freddie's favourite park, surreptitiously. :-) Perhaps over in a corner somewhere. We can go visit it when we walk there. 

I need to be reminded that when people are important to me, whether they carry the title of Mom or Mentor or Good Friend, I need to reach out and tell them that. It is important. They might not know if you don't tell them.