Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. On Friday at work, someone called in and wanted to have wine delivered to their mother for Mother’s Day. I had to ask someone, “When’s Mother’s Day?”. You see, I haven’t had a mother for almost twenty years now.
It’s very strange. Only one or two of my oldest friends ever met her. My lovely wife and her family never knew her, although they would have loved her. And I know that my mother would have loved Brooke, and if it’s possible for her to see me now, I know she’s happy for us.
But it is a strange empty hole in the calendar. I’m not so sad anymore, and it’s not like I want people to feel sorry for me. It’s just that when this day rolls around every year, I don’t know what to do. I have a wonderful mother-in-law, but that’s not the same.
For Mother’s Day this year, then, let me tell you a story about my mum.
During my teens, my mum and I were very close. I’m an only child, and after the age of 13 or so, my dad wasn’t around much, so we sort of depended on each other. One of our rituals was to go to the movies together on a regular basis. And so, in 1981, my 16-year old self went off to see Raiders of the Lost Ark with his mum. You have to realize that I wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed by this. We were buddies, and she was cool. Well, if you remember the movie at all, there’s a scene where Indiana Jones is fighting a huge guy in the shadow of a moving airplane, and just when the guy’s about to finish him off, the spinning propeller of the airplane makes contact with the back of the big brute’s head.
It was at that moment that my mum jumped in fear and her flailing arms caught me right in the crotch.
I miss you, Mum!