This will be my first Mother’s day without you. The last time I held you, you died as we tried to save you. Today I can’t call you to wish you happy mothers day, but I have the memory of all those times I did – and when you called for birthdays, special days, and ‘I miss you’ days.
‘Love never ends’: You loved us every day of our entire lives. You taught us to love – to love God, each other, our neighbours (you could – and would – talk to anyone in the street, supermarket, cafe …). You taught us – we love because you loved.
I don’t love as you did: when it comes to loving I have an exception list. But every time I talked to you about someone I struggled to love, my exception list grew shorter. You made me see people differently.
Yes, there are some things we never understood about each other – we both changed and grew: Never apart, just differently. When I was a child, I learned from you; as I grew up, I used that knowledge to make my own way in life. And so it was love that held us together when I joined the Methodist Church, when you went overseas following Dad, when our family moved to Auckland and then on to Melbourne.
Like trying to fix your hair when the mirror is always fogging up, we don’t always see clearly, we don’t always understand. I suspect that you can see clearly now; knowing and being known fully, completely now that your race has been run. Or walked, in your case.
I can’t forget that last night I held you, Mum, as we tried to breathe life into your dying body. But there is So Much More that you have given me to live, love and believe.
‘And now faith, hope, and love are alive; and the greatest of these is love.’
With a nod to 1 Corinthians 13.8-13