According to Wikipedia, a moment or momentum is a medieval measure of time and the movement of shadow on a sundial was measured by 40 moments in an hour.
We’ve just celebrated Mothers Day last Sunday, and Facebook is full of pictures showing various ways mothers’ were feted and cherished. It was probably the same on Instagram and many other modalities. The papers were devoted to it, and much was said on the news. One school in Melbourne even went to the trouble of changing the name of the Mothers Day Gift Stall to incorporate the various types of mothers around.
Mother’s Day for me, is always a difficult one, despite said difficulty being kept to myself. I do struggle with it because Kelly isn’t with us anymore, and some days I see that as a sort of failure in my mothering. Other days I look at the time and the twenty Mothers Days I did have with her.
Then I look at the ‘moments’ that stand out for me, which is not so simple, given that I had three children and many of the early Mothers Day breakfasts were a joint effort. Some of these were best forgotten, but at least the thought was there.
Kelly was a big believer in celebrating special occasions and making them important. Not that the others didn’t, but each of them had their own little ways of making birthdays and the like stand out. I’ve got a box full of mementos to remind me of these days and the way my children marked them.
For me, I had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon with my son, daughter-in-law and husband, so I felt very special. But in saying that, I think of other Mothers who have lost children to all manner of reasons, and I feel blessed to have been able to share the day with one of mine.
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
