Our mother died 41 years ago today on the fifth floor of Addington Hospital.
At times I feel I never knew her. There are times it is as if she is still with us. This one of many paradoxes of dying and living. We make our mark then go away. We live on in hearts, memories, values of those who knew and loved us.
Mavis Iona Smith is as alive as ever and has been gone too long to remember. There’s hardly a morning when I dress that I don’t hear her voice telling me anything is possible today but do you really want to wear that shirt. There’s hardly a meal I prepare that I don’t hear her just suggesting I’m adding too much of whatever. I adventure into the city and Mother points out strangers, tells me they’re friends I just don’t know.
I’m making it sound like mother is spending her eternity sitting on my shoulder. Not so. I’m just very aware of her values, commitment to hospitality, some of her cautions, many of which I still ignore. The reality of at least one aspect of eternal life is most tangible when you realize people who loved you unconditionally are living inside you, making their mark, urging you to pass the baton of goodness from generation to generation.
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