Thankyou, Mum



My Mum's brooch, one she often wore, reminds me of her life and love

I was only six or seven, but already struggled to share what I really thought. My fears were real, but I kept them to myself. I tried to please my Mum, longing for her acceptance and understanding of me. My shyness was so limiting, and I wanted to be able to do and say the things that were clammed up in a hard shell. I still know these things today, but am so thankful for the love of my Father God and His forgiveness. I am thankful, too, for the love of my husband.

As this young child I watched closely what my mother did, and learned many things from her. I loved to help cook, and clean the house. But I never felt what I did was good enough. Mum seemed to be cross all the time, or maybe that's what I thought.

Whatever, she saved my life, and I can only thank her. 

You see, my Father was a good fruit and vegetable grower, and he had picked some very big grapes. They were sitting on the kitchen table, and I wanted some. I had been told not to touch them. I took a really large grape; in fact I had chosen to take the biggest I could find, eat it, and Mum would not even know. 

The taste was going to be wonderful; but I did not get to taste it, because it slipped down my throat, resting gently across my windpipe. My breath was coming in gasps. My fear was great. Reality seemed to dim. Where was Mum? I would have to tell her things were not right.

I can still see her today. She was mopping under my bed - head bent down with her slightly greying hair. She wore an apron over her dress, and slippers on her feet.

I had found her, but I could not speak.  Things around were becoming irrelevant. I could hardly get any air in. I can still hear my gasps. I stood next to her, and she looked up. I know she did not speak, but she saw my need. I remember her hitting me on my back, and then air rushing into my lungs. 

I can see myself looking for the grape on the floor, head down, and trying to get myself together. I walked away, and I am sure I never said 'thankyou'. In fact it was never mentioned again. But life had been given back to me in that so small an act of great love.

Today I say 'thankyou', and know that my Mother struggled to communicate love, and she knew pain in her life that she rarely talked about. 

I see too that the love of the Father is so rich for both of us. She has died, but I love her deeply.

Today I am joining with Ann in The 1000 mothers project.