As a mom I have been reflecting on many happy times with my boys and also remembering some challenging times and how we as a family grew from these and how we adapt and change.

In my own relationship with my mom, whom I loved dearly, we had our moments, some joyful and some not so much.  I was the fourth child, first daughter, which in my mind meant serious help around the house. My mom and dad loved us all, that was never a question. However we did as a family say that Mom favoured the boys and Dad the girls. I was fine with this, as I did have a great connection with my father, he was quiet and I loved our annual trips to Montreal. I think being raised in a loud, large family of six kids that I needed quiet space and a calm person to reflect with and my father provided that. Time in the garden, riding on the hay wagon, with the animals; it was not just something my brothers did with him.

This was all fine until he died when I was 16. I knew he was going to die from the time I was six and he had one of the first open heart surgeries in Canada. That operation was a gift of time and he lived 10 years. However ,for me it was a difficult struggle as I missed him so much; I was off balance, my rock was gone. We didn’t grieve or talk about our feelings openly, we just tried to move on. When my kids’ father died we learned how to grieve so that they could all work through our feelings, acknowledge our pain and learn to live with our loss.

Mom was always loving with me, but she could bug me. I know I annoyed her, too. I was confident, stubborn and on a clear path to get out of my hometown and on to the great adventure of life. We were raised with chores and responsibilities and I have always been grateful for that as an adult because it helped me develop a strong work ethic, great work skills and a common-sense attitude which I believe has served me well. However as a teenage girl, spending my Saturday afternoons doing the family laundry, which included ironing and the washing, I didn’t see my mom’s vision. With loud music playing and friends visiting I got through it, as we did all of our other chores, jobs and school work. Now I see her wisdom.

My friends  adored my mom, and so did my brothers’ friends. I just did not see it. I mean she was nice and pleasant, quite directive but adorable? When I was 18 we had a difficult year with lots of drama, mostly mine, and it needed to change. I was really missing my father and knew I needed to connect with my mom in a more positive way because I knew how important she was, because I saw it with my brothers and others.

I arranged a dinner for her and I alone. I bought a bottle of wine, cooked her favourite food, closed the dining room doors off from the world, and I set the conversation with this question, “Tell me about your life, not your mom life,  life before us, your hopes and dreams.”  I must have got the idea out of magazine as I don’t think I was that insightful. That night changed our relationship. She was incredibly honest and funny, and we cried and laughed and hugged. I learned to value my mother as a woman, as an amazing woman. She was a feminist before there was a word for it, she moved beyond that to a humanist. She had loved and lost, she had grieved deeply, she had had so much fun in the air force, was intelligent and hard- working  Like her daughter, she was stubborn and determined, curious and full of life. We spoke for hours and for hours after that evening. Our relationship evolved beyond mother-daughter, we now had a woman- to-woman relationship where we could discuss  aspirations, careers, education, politics in a new light, setting our mother daughter hats aside.

She had big dreams for me, but they were her dreams unfilled, not mine. That was an important item that we cleared up. We had a great relationship for the rest of her life and I am sure I still bugged her and she me, but never the same way. We loved each other deeply and admired each other as women in the world.  She was tremendously supportive of all of us, loving each of us as uniquely as we all are.

I share this story with you as we approach Mother’s Day because I believe it is never too late to have those conversations that we need to have with our family members, and maybe this story will influence someone to cook a special dinner, open up a bottle of wine, close the doors, turn off the phone and have meaningful conversations.

Mom died seven years ago and I miss her every day. I loved the way her voice expressed her love for me, the warmth of her hands, and the “I love you” she always said whenever she spoke to me that spoke volumes.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Michele Blais has worked with families and children in the North Okanagan for the past 29 years. She is a longtime columnist with The Morning Star, appearing every other Sunday.