my mother

Today my mum would've turned 65 years old. But she never even got the chance to turn 50.
It is 16 years since my mother passed away and in some ways it feels like a lifetime ago. 

Don't get me wrong - she's with me in my thoughts almost every day. I strive to be more like her. I wish I'd gotten her wonderful ginger hair instead of my blonde. I wonder what advice whe'd give me when in doubt. I wish she'd had the chance to meet her first grandchild and it's most marvellous mother/wife of my brother's.

But there are so many things I don't remember about her. And things I want to forget too. I don't remember what she used to smell like. Or what her teeth looked like. Or what it felt like hugging her. I remember a scar on her pinkie but can't for the world  remember the story behind it - even though I know she once told me.

I would like to forget all the horrible things I called her as a teenager. I would like to forget how she worked herself half to death with a full time job, kids, a farm and voloneer work all at once. Or the look on her face when I caught her crying once when she thought she was alone.

Everytime someone tells me I remind them of my mum I take it as a compliment. Everytime I throw her old, 70's bag over my shoulder as I'm on my way to work (just as she used to do) I send her a thought. And best of all is when I sometimes look at my brother and see her smile in his. She lives through us all I'm sure.