Reader fiction: A Mother's Love

I remember Mam when I was a little girl and you were my whole world.

I remember the time when you knelt on the floor by the open fire making soft toast for me in the hope that I might be tempted to eat something, even a little bit.

I remember all the times you sent for the doctor when I was sick and then hugged me tight when the usual injection was done, and I needed comforting.

I remember when I made my first holy communion and you bought me a lovely white dress with a stiff underskirt that made me look and feel like a princess.

I remember the pride you felt to see me able to walk to the church that day when deep in your heart you must have wondered many times if that day would ever arrive.

I remember the day I caught you putting little vests into the chest of drawers in the sitting room and you told me that we were going to get a new baby very soon.

I remember when you helped me to get my first summer job. I was thirteen and it was a favour for your friend. You thought I was going to work in their post office, but they wanted a child minder and cook. The deal was that I would help them out for four weeks and they would pay me nine pounds at the end of that time.

I remember the feeling of pride I felt when I arrived home after those four weeks and handed you my earnings, my very first pay packet.

I remember how I hated school as a child and was terrified of nuns. You gently coaxed me along and convinced me to go to “Tech” after national school. How right you were mam. I loved every moment and soaked up everything they had to teach me like a sponge.

I remember when I had finished “Tech” I got a summer job in Roches stores in Dublin. It was like being in an Aladdin’s cave. So many beautiful things everywhere I looked.

I remember the present I bought you, a red twin set, which I knew was the one thing you admired more than anything at that time. I made it my mission to make sure I had enough money saved to buy one for you  by the end of that summer.

I remember mam the time when I met and married my dear husband. I was nineteen and two weeks before my wedding you took me into town to shop for all the various items I would need in setting up my own home.

I remember all those times dear mam and many more besides. The memories of so many ways in which you helped to guide me during my life, including the times when I was a tetchy teenager and for a time you couldn’t do right for doing wrong, but always in my heart I loved you and the very ground you walked on.

Now we sit together mam, you asleep in your chair and me holding your hand. This care centre has been your home for the last three years where you have made many friends although you may not realise it. I wait patiently for you to open your eyes; my heart is heavy with sadness and the knowledge that there is nothing I can do. Something inside me knows that these precious days are coming to an end.

It is St. Patricks day, your birthday and Mother’s Day is on its way.

Cards and presents are waiting for you to open them.

If only you could wake up and see them. How you would pretend that we shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble on your account while all the time delighting in the fact that we loved you so much.

My heart is broken, just another little while sweet Jesus I pray. Let me care for her, love her, mind her for just another short while.

The afternoon concert starts up.

The man with the accordion begins singing all the old- time favourites for the residents.

Suddenly he starts to sing the one song I remember you singing in our kitchen when I was a very young child.

“A mother’s love is a blessing.”

You continue to sleep as the tears roll down my cheeks. I know in my heart of hearts that this is a sign. You are going on your final journey and I must let you go in peace.

Nine years later I still cry when I hear that song. I can hear you in the stillness of my mind as you sing along to the radio.  

The gentle love of a mother is indeed one of life’s greatest blessings.