Will I be indulging in a long lie tomorrow? Luxuriating in a slow awakening, possibly due to sounds of whisperings and clanking accompanying a surprise ‘breakfast in bed’ being prepared. I’ll plant a faux look of surprise on my face and await their ‘tray in hand’ arrival.
They’ll pile onto the bed to chat gleefully about any plans for the day and reminisce over how wonderful their upbringing has been with me at the helm. I shall be enveloped in gratitude and love.
What a beautiful but impossible scenario. Mothering Sunday, for me, involves my team and I being hard at work making delicious sandwiches and enough fresh scones for over 200 Afternoon Teas. We will merrily play our part in ensuring the Mammies throughout our small part of Scotland are celebrated and acknowledged in a style they deserve.
Mother’s Day is always fully booked way in advance. By comparison, Valentines is a tad more last minute and fraught because the lads are left to make arrangements.
This celebration of all things Matriarchal is better organised as the daughters, regardless of age, are involved and plan ahead.
I’ve spent the last fortnight drowning in guilt as I turned request after request away. Fortunately the team reason with me and remind me there is only so much even we can do in a day.
Celebrating wonderful women
Do I mind working? Not at all. It is part and parcel of being in hospitality and we always receive such lovely feedback. My team and I are together in this unconventional wee family unit and we believe this year, maybe more so than previous ones, celebrating these wonderful ladies is paramount.
As a mother I cherish every moment with my girls. I know these moments are not infinite. I only have them ‘on loan’ for a short time.
The mister and I are truly blessed with three brilliant, charming, funny kids. All different, all unique and all worthy of as much love and attention as we can heap on them. We surround ourselves with friends and family who also adore the girls, and we’re so fortunate to have these wonderful people around us because you never fully understand the loss until it happens: the void left behind, sorrow so sharp it makes you catch your breath every single time you remember.
My mother left us too soon but did so secure in the knowledge that we had each other. My dad cared for her beautifully, and helped keep her memory alive for myself and my brother. We now make sure all five of her grandchildren know her too.
The loss of your mother is destroying at any age. Your ultimate protector and champion. Your ‘go to regardless’ person. My mum passed when I was 32, and even at an adult age I felt lost, cheated and angry. I still feel the same, every time I think I must tell her something, forget she’s gone and lift the phone to call her.
Tomorrow I’ll remember her
Tomorrow I’ll allow myself a moment to catch my breath and remember everything about her, from her cold hands and soothing voice, down to the smell of the perfume she used to wear. I shall also spend some time celebrating the glorious women in my life that shaped me and help me cope with everything thrown at me.
Whether you are an aunt, a mother-in-law, a cousin or wonderful friend whose capacity for love is seemingly limitless, it doesn’t matter.
People holding these titles provide me with support to help me take on the hardest role of all. I am grateful for them all.
To my friends who are mothers: well done. I mean that sincerely. I am in awe of you all and all you do. To those who have lost their mothers, who have suffered loss as mothers, and to those who long to be mothers but sadly can’t, you are special and loved every single day even if life passes so quickly you don’t always get a chance to stop and notice.
I was proud to have Mary as my mum and if, as my middle daughter suspects, she does have Facebook in heaven, I hope she is pain-free, happy and proud too. She is, after all, the reason tomorrow is special.
