Thinking of My Mum on Mother's Day
It’s Mother’s Day today in the UK. Here in Qatar, it’s quite unlike the UK, where TV ads and shop window displays offer constant reminders of the impending date, so usually I don’t realise until the day itself, when the children bring back homemade cards from school and offer me warm, loving cuddles.
Of course, my thoughts invariably turn to my own mother, who passed away almost seven years ago. It sounds like a long time ago now, but in my head I still get those moments where I think, ‘Oh I must tell Mum,’ or, ‘Mum will love that,’ and then a rock suddenly falls from my heart into my stomach, as I realise that I won’t be seeing her again and I can’t tell her anything.
My Mum, Margaret, was born in the small Welsh village of Govilon, near Abergavenny, in 1948. Her father was Irish and her mother was Welsh. She was the second eldest of five children who grew up in a small house along the main road that peacefully winds its way through the tiny, picturesque community.
As a tall, beautiful young woman, she made her way to London, where she worked as a model, showcasing fabulous sixties clothes on her waif-like frame. Before long, she met and fell in love with an Italian man. As a young, married couple, they moved back to her parents’ house in Govilon and she gave birth to a baby girl. Tragedy stuck, however, when my half-sister was just six weeks old. Mum’s husband had a heart attack and died. She became a widow at the tender age of twenty-two.
Mum as a young woman in London in the sixties
Mum as a young woman in London in the sixties
A few years later, she fell for the charms of an English army Major, my Dad, and they began a new life together in the market town of Shrewsbury. They married and had three daughters, of whom I’m the eldest.
Mum was always hard-working, practical and industrious. Mum and Dad bought a big, beautiful white Georgian house in town, part of which functioned as a nursery school, which Mum took over. She became a very successful business owner, juggling the demands of work and family with her effervescent energy and can-do attitude.
Mum and Dad eventually divorced when I was in my mid-teens. They seemed to be constantly teetering on the edge of it, so the actual announcement came as no surprise.
Mum soon met a business man who quickly endeared himself to us girls. They married in the local church and had a quintessentially English-style country reception in our garden.
Mum with my younger sister, Emily, and me at her wedding reception
Her life took an adventurous turn when her husband secured a job in Bali, Indonesia, where she loved living. They later moved to tropical Fiji, which she also embraced and enjoyed. In fact, it was this move that aligned the planets for my own future, as it was upon visiting her there, at the end of 1998, that I met and fell in love with my husband, George.
They came back to the UK for a while, before settling in Lagos, Portugal. Life seemed perfect, until, in 2003, Mum’s world was turned upside down when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, which had already spread to her lymph nodes. She endured a double mastectomy and months of chemotherapy, but faced it all with her usual strength and fortitude.
Mum holding Lyla's hand when we visited her in Portugal, in 2004. She had just finished chemotherapy
Life events took their toll on her third marriage, and Mum found herself divorced and living back in Shrewsbury. As always, she made the most of it, working hard to be self-sufficient, furnishing a cosy home with her stylish flair and tending to a beautiful garden. She enjoyed socialising and travelling and was often out for dinner with friends or on some kind of jaunt or holiday.
Mum with Mia, Lyla and Ruby when she visited us in Fiji in 2007
Mum with Lyla and Ruby when she visited us in Fiji in 2007
She came to visit us in Qatar at the end of 2010. In her trademark, unapologetically truthful way she made it very clear that she didn’t like the country. Nevertheless, it was wonderful to spend time with her, and as we said our goodbyes the tears flowed and we desperately tried to figure out how soon we could meet again. Little did I know this would be the last time that I would see her.
Mum, with her first grandchild, Ruby, when she visited us in Qatar in 2010
Mum, visiting us in Qatar, Christmas 2010
On Mum’s 63rd birthday, June 7th 2011, she received the results of a biopsy from a lump behind her ear. She had been reassured for a long while that it was just a swollen lymph node, but it was, in fact, cancer. Further tests revealed that it had spread all over her body. She only lived for five more weeks, passing away on July 14th. She was buried with her first husband in Govilon.
I was heavily pregnant with the twins when Mum was diagnosed, and when she died they were just two days old. I was in hospital recovering from a c-section and the twins were in the neonatal intensive care unit. When George came into my hospital room to say he had something to tell me, I immediately thought the doctors had revealed something terrible about the twins and I went straight into panic mode. It wasn’t even in my head that Mum would pass away so soon after her diagnosis, I thought she’d have months, if not years, of treatment. So when he gently explained that Mum had gone, my head was swirling with shock and disbelief.
I later learnt that Mum, too, was floored at the speed of it all. She said, on her last day in this world, a few hours after she was admitted to hospital, ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this'. She thought she’d be around for a lot longer, and it still makes my heart feel heavy to think about that.
Mum, visiting us in Qatar in 2010
I couldn’t go to her funeral because I was post-operative and the twins were too young to travel. When I think about it now, I can barely recall the details of that time because I was in the throes of an intense mix of postpartum hormones, sleep deprivation, mother duties and grief. I wrote a funeral speech for her between the babies' two hourly night time feeds, which were lasting for an hour and a half each because of a feeding problem Oscar had, and I’m surprised I even managed to make sense. Thankfully, however, my wonderful daughters and my perfect, beautiful, new born baby boys were such a blessing they kept me from drowning in grief, and as I stared at them in awe and wonder I knew somehow that Mum was with us too.
So that was almost seven years ago now. It’s true that only the passage of time eases grief, and it is a relief when you eventually find yourself smiling, rather than crying, at a treasured memory. Nothing ever cures it though, as some people simply take an irreplaceable piece of your heart with them when they go.
My greatest regret is that she didn’t get to meet the twins. I know she would have adored them. I also find it hard not having that person to share my children’s achievements with, someone who’s as vitally interested in their wellbeing, happiness and successes as I am, revelling in the pride and delight that grandmothers do.
Thinking of her on Mother’s Day today, I’m going to share a list of some of the values that I admired in her and which I try to emulate:
-Stick to your principles -Don’t waste time and energy worrying about what other people think of you -When the going gets tough, roll up your sleeves and think of practical solutions -Always have a sense of humour -Always try to look your best -Travel a lot -Live in different countries -Be generous -Never be afraid to say how you feel -Respect people from all walks of life -Sing, even when you don’t know the words -Make an effort so your family feel special and loved on their birthdays -Take extra special care of people when they are sick and in need -Create a warm, welcoming home that reflects your style -Tell your family that you love them, a lot -Paint pictures -Embrace people of all skin colours -Never apologise for who you are -Have fun -When someone is having a moan, empathise with supportive passion to make them feel validated -Don’t over complicate things -If your child is wronged, stand up for them, so they feel important, loved and protected -Keep an organised household -Don’t overthink life changes, just do it -Nurture a garden -Go for walks in the fresh air as much as possible -Move on from friendships that no longer serve your best interests, and don’t dwell on it -Be receptive to friendly conversations with strangers -Take pride in dressing your children well (until, at least, you no longer have a say!) -Cook delicious family meals -Always have a pet dog and treat them with kindness -Be as enthusiastic about shopping in the pound shop as you are about shopping in a designer store -Get out of the house and do something, even if you don't feel like it -Stick with traditions to make Christmas Day magical -Don’t worry -Be strong
And finally…
-Constantly remind myself how wonderful George is (as she always reminded me!)
Mum, visiting us in Qatar, 2010
Some of this doesn’t come naturally to me as I tend to be much more of a worrier and over-thinker than Mum ever was, but I try my best and I constantly remind myself of what she might do in challenging situations that I find myself in, so that I can muster strength from her.
Above all else, Mum was larger than life and her vibrant, free spirit, along with a rather pleasing strain of eccentricity, lives on in her children and grandchildren. I’m thankful for everything she taught us, both in person and retrospectively, and I love her eternally. Happy Mother's Day Mum, I know you'll be raising a glass to us up there in heaven x