This month will be the tenth anniversary of the death of my mother to cancer. I can’t believe it’s been 10 years. Some days it feels like 100 years and sometimes it feels like yesterday. 

I wanted to write something meaningful that was a fitting tribute to her memory and yet something that is also relevant to my life today and hopefully maybe even helpful to others. 

I searched myself over  and over for ideas and I became concerned that I would not be able to find a suitable topic. In desperation I went to sit outside on the deck and clear my head. 

And then I remembered this… 

In the decades before she died I remembered her living a relatively secluded life on her farm. During our daily chats together she would tell me which plants were growing, which chickens were laying eggs and the minutia of her daily life there. It was sometimes painfully boring for me at times but it was truly her. 

As I listened I was reminded that it was so far removed from where I was and what I was doing, that it was almost like another world. And it was. It was her world. Her world on the farm and mine was in the busy city. 

As I hung up and rushed to another meeting I took comfort in the knowledge that she was happily feeding the animals and treading through the farmlands that I had once known. It always seemed so safe and simple there. 

The daily routine that she loved so much felt like a prison to me growing up. I couldn’t possibly imagine what she loved about it or what she enjoyed about this secluded life. 

Until now… 

As I looked out on my garden, admiring the sunshine on the newly formed rose buds and listening to the awkward puppy sounds coming from within the bushes below, I felt peace. 

Here there are no signs of doctors. Here there are no signs of illness. Here there are no people to judge or misunderstand me. Here I have a sense of control of my life. 

There is a simple joy in knowing you are safe and able to cope with the daily demands of life. 

Although she had started out her life with nothing, and I had so much taken away, however, they are both ways of learning how to appreciate the little things. How to treasure the little things. 

I imagine what our conversations might be like now? Now that we might finally be at a common place? 

I sometimes imagine telling her about the plants, the pets, the weather, the things I see on the way to the cafe and how precious it is to enjoy a light moment because life is filled with many heavy ones. 

I think I can finally understand how important it is to find a place were you can leave yourself on every little piece of it. It is in the simple little things that you find the reasons to keep going. 

Little things don’t make you small or not important. It is the little things that help make life feel bigger and it’s the little things that we always miss the most. 

Thank you for always showing me the little things. 

Love you always Mum. 

Always. 

Trish