VERY LAINIE

Remembering Mom: The Leader of all Things Wild and Crazy

This week, my friend Janine shares memories of her mom.

Mary Lynette Franklin (nee Foster) 

This is my favourite picture of her.  It captures her essence, her smile.  And the pearls…she had a flare for the fancy amidst the country bumpkin!

Someone once told me that time heals the hurt of loss.  I think time just changes the hurt.  

Missing my mom sometimes comes in waves of pure happiness when I think of the little nuances of her—her smell, the little bump on the side of her nose (from when she was bit by a dog as a little girl), and her face after she found me curled up in the back of our turquoise Volvo wagon.  I had popped the most enormous bubble for an 8 year old and had bubblegum stuck on many parts of my hands, face and hair.   

These memories can and often do turn to sadness when I think of her not being here.

I often wonder what we would do together now that I am a woman—springtime walks where she would teach me all the names of the wild flowers, baking lessons perfecting pastry, afternoon chats over tea, family meals filled with laughter and storytelling, my wedding day, and sharing tears over life’s mistakes and lessons.

Mother’s day, her birthday, the day she died…are little moments when I exhale.  I try not to stay in this place because it can quickly overwhelm. Instead my heart shifts to a place of gratitude and love for the incredible women in my life that have become second moms to me. It is like God knew and placed the most wonderful women from diverse backgrounds to teach me about strength, dignity, love and hope, while my mom looks on from heaven.

Parents often talk about their children as precious gifts. For me, my mom was my precious gift.  For a short 13 years, she was in my life—guiding, nurturing, loving, and providing places of safety, curiosity and fun.

Lessons from Mom

Ask the ladybugs to stay, they kill the bad bugs of the garden.
Say sorry when it’s your fault, and sometimes when it’s not.
Girls have 3 holes.  Babies don’t come out of the same place as you pee.
Honesty is the best medicine, even when it hurts.
Live as if today were your last.
Love with all your heart.

I loved the unashamed, unconditional love and passion she had for people.  She was fierce really — passionately pursuing people and letting them know their value.

She was a woman who picked up strangers on the road to drive them to their destination and would deliver meals to families in need. Our door was always open for friends and family to stop by – for tea, lunch, or chat.  Always giving of her time, she valued family and did her best to bring us all together.

Every summer, we would go to Camp Mini-Yo-We.  This camp has heaps of history in our family. My grandparents helped build it. My aunt and uncle were married there. All of us (cuzzies and all) were campers, counsellors and program directors of some sort. We spent anywhere between 2 weeks to 2 months on Mary Lake enjoying the fun, adventure and camp festivities each summer. Camp was the best part of our vacation.

When I was a young camper, I remember my mom helping us pack, taking us to get bags of candy from the Bulk Barn, giving us letter writing material (Holly Hobby and Hello Kitty were my favourite), dropping us off, and visiting us on Sundays.  Throughout the weeks, I’d discover little love notes from my mom. She was so creative in using pictures, designs, and symbols to code her sweet messages. It was seriously awesome!

She was the leader of all things wild and crazy. She organized the most sophisticated camp pranks and raids…

My mom was the camp nurse for a few summers, while I was a senior camper and counsellor in training. I remember one morning heading for breakfast only to realize she had stolen a number of items from the different sections and used them to decorate the nursing station.

From the Minis, the youngest campers, she took all the shoes. From the Yos, middle age campers, she took bathing suits. And from the Wes, the older of campers, she stole all the training bras. How she did this, I have no idea. They talked about this mischievous raid for years.

She was a legend! 

My Mom was beautiful.  She had thick black hair and was tall with legs that stretched for miles.  She had an olive complexion and a contagious laugh.

God tells us that we are all masterpieces—unique and created for a destiny designed only for us.  My mom believed this.  

She held tight to her love for God and was a woman who knew how to shine His love!  That made her incredible. 

This picture holds a special place in my heart.  My mom was 6 months pregnant with me in her belly!  A few years back, while I was visiting my auntie and uncle in England, my uncle went to his study one evening and returned with a little box of treasures to share with me – little trinkets and photos my mom shared with them across the ocean.  This photo was in that box.  It took me by surprise, as I had never seen my mom pregnant before, and with me no less.  Together we had a cry and spoke of how elegant and graceful she was.

I focus on the excitement of reuniting with her for the eternity we will spend together.

Writer’s Note:  This piece was written by Mary’s daughter, Janine.  Janine and I met about seven years ago through work.  Through the years I have always enjoyed hearing stories of her mom.  She sounded like such a character and I could see where Janine and her brother Mark got their silly and fun sides from!

Thank you for sharing your memories of her, Janine.  The leader of all things wild and crazy, her love for God, passionately pursuing people and letting them know their value… you share so many similarities to your mom.  I think your family continues to have a little piece of her, through you.

If you enjoyed this post, please leave a comment for Janine or click ‘like’ to let her know that you enjoyed her writing!  Thank you!

Remembering Mom: She was My World

I remember as a child, I was always scared of being alone as it was just the two of us.  I always said to her…”don’t ever leave me.”  She always promised that she’d be with me.

I was 20 years old when she died.

This week’s Remembering Mom post was written by a close friend of mine.  I hope you enjoy it.

Joyce Hylary Pitter

My mum and I having dinner at a restaurant in Paris, France.   I was 10 years old and this was such a memorable trip – getting to see the Eiffel Tower for the first time with her and doing what we loved – eating good food!

As a child, she was my world. I didn’t grow up with any siblings and she was the only parent in my life.  She meant everything to me.

This totally showed our life.  With no siblings, Mum always played with me…even in the tiny blow up pool!

My mum had a very kind and gentle nature. She was very soft-spoken and caring but inside a very strong and determined woman as she faced so many obstacles in her life.

From her late 20’s, she suffered from rheumatoid arthritis which took a toll on her body. In later years, this brought on several other ailments, but in spite of her weak body, she was the strongest person I knew.

I don’t know how she did it, raising a child and running a school all on her own.

I remember my Grandma and my Aunt telling me stories about my mum when she was a little girl and how she’d line up her dolls and pretend to teach them. She was born to be a teacher. 

She later became the principal of her school.  I remember watching her interact with the kids and how much she cared about each and every one of them. In the small island of Antigua where I grew up, so many people knew and loved my mum, and appreciated the positive impact that she had on her students.

When I was a teenager, she would work full days, come home to have dinner with me, and then head off to spend time with a couple of little boys who needed some care and support.  I’m honoured to say that my mum was that person. She was just amazing.

I remember us participating in a garage sale when I was around 17 and selling our items out of the trunk of her car.   The plan was to put the money we had made towards something that we needed.  We had so much fun and by afternoon, our plans had changed.  After the garage sale we took that money and treated ourselves to a fabulous meal at a restaurant instead!

My mum and I shared a love for good food.

We enjoyed going out to try different restaurants and I loved coming home from university to find that she had cooked one of my favourite meals. She was a great cook.

I often came home to spend weekends with her.  On one particular Sunday, I remember sitting and working on a puzzle of her favourite movie.  Sitting, chatting, eating and laughing the whole afternoon and enjoying the time with her.

Before I knew it, it was time to head back to school.  I jumped up to pack my things, while she continued with the puzzle.  When I came out to give goodbye hugs, Mum said to me, “Come on, just stay a bit longer and finish this with me…it’s almost done.” I did, even though it was late. I remember her being so happy.

When it was time to go, we hugged and I rushed out the door saying goodbye and see you soon.  She died two weeks later.

I’m so glad that I stayed to finish the puzzle that night.

I think of her every April 4th. She was only 46.  She had the prettiest green eyes.

There have been so many moments in my life that I have deeply missed her and wished she was by my side: special birthdays, my wedding day, the day I followed her path and became a teacher, the births of my 2 children, and many others.

Her love as a mother was the deepest and most genuine.  My one hope is that my boys will know this same love from me.

I loved how she made me feel.  I miss her so much.

Writer’s Note:  This piece was written by Joyce’s daughter, Nika.  Nika and I met around 10 years ago when we began teaching at the same school.  We have been friends ever since. She even made the trek to Northwestern Ontario to be in my wedding party.  Although I didn’t get to meet her mom, I’ve always thought that she was an incredible woman.  As a single mom, she left everyone she knew, family and friends in Antigua, so Nika could have a good education in Canada.  Naturally when I thought of someone to write about their mom, I immediately thought of Nika.

Thank you for writing about her, Nika.  You described her beautifully.  You’re an incredible mom to your boys.  She would be so proud of you.

Please take a moment to leave a comment or to click ‘like’ to let Nika know that you enjoyed her writing!  Thank you!

Remembering Mom: The Smell of her Lipstick

Last week as I looked forward to spending Mother’s Day with my boys, I thought about those who no longer have their moms.  What is Mother’s Day like for them?

I reached out to three friends who lost their mothers as young women and asked if they’d be interested in writing about their moms on my blog.

I’d love to!  She has been on my mind lately.

I would love to share about my mum…will be emotional but wonderful at the same time.

I’d be honoured!

So after a teary editing session, here is the first of three stories to be shared this week.

Cynthia Darby Maxwell

I chose this photo because it shows three generations of my family, and my Mom during one of the happiest times of her life.

I remember the smell of her lipstick and perfume, the way her scarf was soft and warm on my face.  

My mom used to kiss me goodbye every time I left the house. She would hold my face in her hands and kiss me quickly as I squirmed to get free… saying, “I love you, see you soon.”

She was a single parent to my brother and I.  We were definitely not the easiest of children. My brother had special needs and my mom had to work hard to support him through his education. She had taken thalidomide during her pregnancy and was determined that Andrew would never be at a disadvantage because of it. She wasn’t a feisty advocate.  She was supportive, persistent and involved.

My mom always said that we could do anything we wanted, anything we set our minds to. She valued education and went back to university when I was ten to finish her degree in Geography. Unfortunately, the year she graduated there were no jobs in education.  For every trial and tribulation, my mom would persevere. She’d just pick herself up and move on, never looking back.

My mom fought a 20 year battle with cancer. She was incredible, never losing faith that things would work out. She believed in the people taking care of her and never said why me. When we first found out, she was strong and invincible, and I fell apart. She held me up.  

She had such dignity. Nurses and doctors were always commenting on how lovely she was.  She was kind and polite, even when she was feeling poorly. She would never let someone else feel her pain.

I watched her strength dwindle and wane.  She leaned harder on me. I was so proud to be her daughter, to look on as she fought hard to stay with us.  She waited so long to see us safely into the world without her. I had to tell her it was okay to go, that I would take care of Andrew, that I would be okay. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do… but my mom would have done it for me.

She was my everything.  I miss her every day.

Each night, my mom would gather me into my bed, read me a book, tell me stories and sing to me. The day would just drift away.  She’d brush my hair oh so gently off my forehead and kiss me saying, “Goodnight and God Bless” as she turned off the light and slipped down the hall.

Writer’s Note: This piece was written by Cynthia’s daughter, Aynsley.  Aynsley and I met each other through work about six years ago.  In those six years, it’s hard to think of a conversation with Ayns that hasn’t included a special anecdote or memory of her Mom.  It’s been 15 years since she lost her Mom and she is still very much a part of her life.  

Ayns, I know this wasn’t easy to write.  Thank you.