Hindsight tattoo

Hindsight Lives On: Happy Birthday, Mama!

Today would have been my mom’s 58th birthday; she died of breast cancer four and a half years ago.

Recently, a new friend asked what it is like: do I miss her every day? What kinds of things do I miss about her? What things do I remember?

I don’t miss her every day, but I do miss her often.

I miss her most when I’m gardening or cooking, because those were two of the things she loved to do most. I plant petunias and impatiens and begonias because she did. I make potato salad her way. I remember her words about how to wash a turkey or not to roast tomatoes in a metal pan.

On our birthdays, Mom would always ask us what we wanted for dinner and what kind of cake we wanted. Yes, she always gave us gifts, too, but the cake and dinner is what I remember and miss the most.

Today it is her birthday. She probably would have wanted coffee-flavoured cake with hazelnut icing. Or just some sour cream glazed donuts from Tim Horton’s, accompanied by coffee, of course.

(Have I mentioned that I started drinking coffee at 16 because my mom did? Little did she know the monster she created…)

Like I said, hindsight lives on.

Hindsight is always 10%

Missin’ you, Mama

I think my mom would have been amused to find her former favourite mechanic schlepping plates and making lattes as co-owner of one of the local cafes.

She would have cried when she heard my song on the Noted CD.

She would be surprised to find that I now like the uniquely-patterned couch and armchair I inherited from her. Birds being one of my least favourite creatrues, I was never very appreciative of the brown, red, taupe, pink and beige pheasants that gallivant on said furniture. Now, however, since I built my living room and dining room around the pattern and colour scheme, I have grown to enjoy it. She’d feel right at home, I think!

This fall, Mom and I might have been students together: She had planned to go back to school for a second degree, hoping to find a way to professionally use her intelligence, wisdom, and hard-earned life experience.

Though her death forced me to get my own apartment and enabled me to buy my Trixie Toyota, if she were still with us she would have been excited to no longer have to share her car with me (or find coffee stains on the upholstery), and I imagine her coming over for coffee every now and then… something I always wished for.

I think she would have enjoyed the memorial we had for Mark. It seemed like she was there in spirit, anyway, and that the event was honouring her life as well as Mark’s. I wonder what she might have done differently, or what her ideas might have been. Still, I have no doubt that she would have been proud of us, proud of how we chose to celebrate Mark’s life.

I’m missin’ you today, Mama. I’m so glad Mark is with you now, but I wish I still had you, too….