I’m kicking myself for posting this on Mother’s Day. Like Valentine’s Day shouldn’t be the only day you demonstrate love, neither should today be the only day you appreciate the moms in your life. But here goes anyway…
Mother’s Day was (%$^@ I hate using the past tense) without a doubt Tory’s favourite day of the year.
I should clarify. Mother’s Day became Tory’s favourite day of the year once Kate was born. Before that for her, as many people experience after losing their mom, it was a difficult day to get through. Avoiding the greeting-card aisle throughout April and May. Cursing the endless Mother’s Day retail promotions.
But in 2004 Mother’s Day turned into a day of celebration for Tory. We brunched at Sassafraz, a barely-three-month-old Kate bundled up, sleeping, while we drank wine and Tory ate eggs benedict, her fav. Then drank
more wine.
Each of the next 12 Mother’s Days were spent much the same way, sometimes with Tory and Kate sporting matching dresses. I swear her cheeks hurt at the end of the day from smiling so much, and she beamed with every compliment she or Kate received.
For me, as it does with many, Mother’s Day with my own mom took a back seat once Kate was born. I don’t remember spending the day with her since then — I’d see her the day before or send a card and call.
And that’s a mom’s life, isn’t it? They invest decades into ensuring your health, happiness and security … and then like that they fade into the background to watch you do the same for your own children. More than that, they often get the blame for our own shortcomings. “My mom didn’t hug me / make my lunch / like my friends” or “I wish my mom was more nurturing / supportive / like Jimmy’s mom”.
But at some point in our lives – and the sooner the better – we realize that our moms did the best they could, and that they’re human. Not perfect, but flawed in the same way we all are.
My mom taught me things that continue to guide each day of my life. Like “don’t sweat the small stuff,” finding a balance between confidence and humility, and having compassion for others.
Kate will grow up, of course with the pain of losing her mom so early, but of also the joyful memories of their time together. I can remember exactly twice when Tory raised her voice at Kate, and even those we now laugh about (“Hey Kate, remember when you quit choir and didn’t tell us until the night before the show?” and “Are you mad, Kate? Are you going to bite Gabby again?”).
Much of how Kate and I have spent the past year is enabling her to have a positive experience on days like this. Not to dread it, but to celebrate it. We spent Mother’s Day last year with Tory’s girlfriends, eating fried-chicken sandwiches and ice cream, and shopping. This weekend Kate is volunteering at a Mother’s Day Marketplace, which is promoting woman-run businesses, selling the kind of stuff her mom adored, and raising money for The Tory Day Fund. And on Sunday she wants to spend a “girls’ day” with me. So you’ll find us at Sephora and eating something sugary. No matching dresses, though.
And then later in the day we’ll break with tradition — we’re meeting my sister and mom for dinner on the big day. I’ll raise a glass and toast them, and all the mothers in our lives, past and present.
Speaking of that … In March, we turned the
anniversary of the day Tory died into another celebration, this time shopping with family and friends for Kate’s grade 8 grad dress. We had a super-helpful salesperson who found the perfect outfit. And while she did, she answered questions from a half-dozen women who fawned over Kate.
The whole experience filled me with love for these extraordinary ladies, and it also made me laugh. I could almost feel the salesperson trying to figure out who Kate’s mom was. And when I leaned over to tell one of them what I was thinking, her answer was perfect:
“We all are.”
It makes me think of another nugget my mom gave me many years ago, introducing me to this quote, which has stuck with me for the decades since:
“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”
Nothing I can do will bring Tory back. I accept that. But what I can and will change – because of my mom and with the help of loved ones like you who fill our days – is that Mother’s Day will always be a day of celebration.
Happy Mother’s Day. Make it a Tory Day.
J.
Horton’s and other clichés. Why does universal health care belong on that list though? It doesn’t make us unique – it makes us the same as every modern nation but one.
become a personal hero on his trip across Canada to raise awareness and money for cancer research.