I made this wall hanging for a friend at work, The Princess and the Pea.  I was inspired by a similar one made by Kate's mother, over at Stubblejumpers Cafe.  I think I'll make myself one too.

I'm still feeling down and then realized the date.  My mum died on February 25, 2013.  I still cry sometimes when I think about her and what the last year and a half of her life were like.  It wasn't easy for her or for me.  Mum died of a massive stroke, which is what she wanted.  She was terrified of ending up in a wheelchair and dependent on others to take care of her.  The last time she went into the hospital, she could still walk.  She was admitted on a Friday, had a stroke on Sunday, and died on Monday.  

I loved my mum.  She could be manipulative, in the nicest way possible, but she was a good mum.  I inherited her excellent sense of humour.  My aunt told me a story about the day my mum and dad got married.  One of my aunts was late to the wedding and came in part way through the ceremony.  My aunt had bought new shoes for the wedding and they squeaked as she walked into the church and found herself a seat.  My mum's shoulders started visibly shaking as mum silently laughed during her wedding ceremony, because of her sister's squeaky shoes.

Mum didn't have an easy life.  Dad was angry a lot of the time.  They lost five babies between me and my sisters.  She moved to a new country to be with my dad after the war. She missed her family in England and didn't see them again for almost twenty years.  She was not "allowed" to work outside the home by dad, once he made enough money to cover the bills.  She came from an upper middle class family in England and ended up living in what could be called a shack when she arrived.  I think that dad spent the rest of his life trying to afford nicer things for her.  Mum was also a beautiful woman and I think dad knew he was "punching above his weight class".

Most of all mum could laugh.  I still have her rubber chicken that someone gave her.  She loved jokes and she even loved dirty jokes, although she would say, "Oh Pixie."  I don't think mum knew what to do with me.  I coloured outside the lines and didn't always follow the rules.  I don't know if she was proud of that, horrified, or jealous.  She was a woman of her time, born in 1924.  

Mum taught me to laugh, she taught me to knit, and garden, and best of all, she taught me to love walking.  When my kids were little, and the weather was decent, we would all bundle up and go for walks with her.  Her father had four girls, a disappointment for him, I'm sure, but every Sunday, he would take one of them with him on his long walks.  So I guess I can thank my grandfather, whom I never met, for my love of walking too.

Mum holding me in 1962.

RIP mum.