February is the month that Cupid shoots his arrows once again into the hearts of millions. Cards, candy and sweet touching gifts are all the rage in February. February for yours truly however, is the remembrance of my mother, as February 7 was her birthday. So instead of discussing all the sugary sweet thoughts of St. Valentine, this month I'd like to honor my mother.
Mom was a first generation American. Her parents traveled separately from the UK and met each other in Pasadena. They married on December 5, 1918 and six years later, after a son and daughter, along came my mother Margaret. Another daughter came along five years later, making Mom one of the two middle children. Mom was the caretaker of sorts to her brother and sisters. She was the one who helped take care of Aunt Helen when she was a baby, bandaged Aunt Barbara's knees and the steady faithful friend to my Uncle Harry. All through their lives, the Sinclair siblings stayed close. Mom was the catalyst I think, they all talked to her regularly and she loved them all equally.
Mom was a stunner as were her two sisters. I often wonder what my grandfather must have thought, when he looked around the dinner table at his three gorgeous daughters. Being an old fashioned Victorian man, he probably panicked a bit and became overly protective. The story goes that any kind of lipstick, nail polish or face makeup was frowned on. Aunt Barbara once said he made her remove her lipstick but it went right back on after she left the house. But back to Mom, she was the most beautiful of the three, in my eyes and of course in my dad's eyes. There was never a puppy or a kitten mom didn't love. There was always through out her life time, pets who she adored. Mom simply loved animals.
My grandfather didn't believe girls needed an education, so after high school mom went to work for Bell Telephone in Los Angeles. A couple of months later, my grandfather died so Mom contributed to the family income. She was a fun loving, gorgeous young lady, who during WWII, danced with the service men at the USO shows and enjoyed her life as best she could during wartime America. I'm sure more than one sailor or soldier took away the memory of dancing with the slender girl with big brown eyes and beautiful curly hair! Possibly mom's image carried them through the battles ahead and gave them hope they would return home in one piece.
My parents met at the phone company in 1948 and were married in 1949. I came along six years later as mom had had several troubled pregnancies, resulting in premature births of children that did not survive. This being said, I was probably the most wanted baby in all of 1955!
Mom and I didn't always see eye to eye as most mother and daughters do not. We had our share of squabbles as I have had with my own daughter. Somehow we always made up and life went back to normal. I didn't always like my mother, didn't feel I needed the criticisms and disapproval. The advise she so freely dished out was not always appreciated but all of this was given with the love that mothers have wrapped in their tender hearts. I'm sure my own flesh and blood feels the same way about me, after all I am her mother!
My parents moved up to Washington two years after we made the move and lived close to us for the remaining years of their lives. Mom loved all her grandchildren but living close to our Kristina, built a bond between the two of them that remains today, even after mom's passing. Kristina looks just like Mom in so many ways and sometimes I see Mom's smile or her merriment in Kristina's eyes. She is truly a spitting image of my lovely mother.
During the last year of mom's life, we spent a lot of time together. She was with us when John died and was my support system during those sad days. We moved her into an assisted living home close to my house in Washington and every night we'd talk to each other about the present times, the past and about trivial things only mother's and daughters discuss. I got to know her in a different way, those last few months and I thank God I had the opportunity. You see, the lack of appreciation I had for her disappeared and during those final months, I came to love and respect her in a way I would never have thought possible.
In November of 2014, 11 months after John died, Mom passed away after a fall in her apartment. She was 89, the same age as my dad when he passed. I have so much to tell her now, about my three trips to the UK, Kristina's journeys and about all the wonderful things that have befallen me over these last 6 years. I miss her terribly and could have used her advise and comforting words over these last few years. More than once I wanted to dial the phone and hear her sweet voice and loving heartfelt words. But alas, there is no more but just memories, pictures from the past, cards and letters. I know in my heart she and my dad are together. Our sweet Nicholas is there with them, snuggled between them waiting for his belly scratches. I'm comforted that they are all fine, where they are is in peace and love.
Happy 96th birthday Mommy, we all love and miss you. I'll toast you with my Tangueray gin cocktail with a slice of lime! You will never be forgotten. Cheers! XX OO
