mother's day has a different kind of meaning for our family. my grandmother passed away when my mom was only seven years old, and every mother's day we visit west park cemetery to put flowers on her grave. we also visit my great-grandfather's gravesite too, they are buried not far from each other.
it's quite surreal honouring someone you never knew. i often wish my grandmother had lived into my lifetime so that i could have clear memories of her, instead of ones filtered through someone else's foggy recollections. i know her name was beryl davidson, and she was super sporty. she also was an incredible seamstress and made all my mother's dresses. i've seen photos of her, and she looked like a lot of fun, despite suffering with ill-health. she died at age 39 from heart disease, only ten years older than i am now. i wonder what her voice sounded like, what kind of jokes she would find funny. what her cooking would taste like. what her signature perfume would be. i can imagine, but it's not the same.
when my mom and i stand at her tombstone, i do mourn for her. it's the strangest feeling. it also makes me think about my legacy. and how incredibly grateful i am to have my mom with me, and such an integral part of my life. our relationship, while not without its challenges, is so fulfilling.
it's quite redemptive in a way.
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