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Remembering my motherToday is a special day for many of us. It is the day we pay tribute to the woman who brought us into this world, who wiped our noses, who minded us when we got ill and who helped us to become the people we are.Mavis HoadesMy mother, Mavis Agatha Hoades, was a remarkable woman back then and she still is. To see her and to be with her would make you doubt that she is as old as she is. She walked more miles that people one-third her age.I walked with her from Den Amstel to Vreed-en-Hoop on many occasions because we did not have the train fare and certainly, no money to pay the hire cars. When I wrote what was then Common Entrance way back in 1960, my mother walked with me to Vreed-en-Hoop, a distance of seven miles to the examination centre.At moments like these I remember her although back then I thought of her as a tyrant. She is not difficult to maintain and I wish she could live out the rest of her years with me but she prefers to live with her daughters. Rather that feeling jealous, I love her even more.As a parent I know what I put her through and while she might have disliked me for some brief moments I know that she still loves me. I would look at her today and we would talk about my growing up. She would look at me and at times I would get the impression that she is at times awed by her eldest child, me. But that feeling of awe disappears in a jiffy.I am among the lucky few who at 64 years of age still have my mother. That is why today I am going to talk with her by phone regardless of the cost; I am going to love her more and I am going to apologise to her for all the wrongs I did her.Today, nothing is too good for her.(Editor-in-Chief, Adam Harris)?I believe I am my mother’s favourite childAlthough my mother is almost at the biblical lifespan of three score and ten, I can hardly think about life without her. You see, my mother has also been my father for the past 29 years and her indomitable spirit has left a distinct mark on my life.It’s hard to condense what my mother means to me in the little space I have.Mrs. Norma AndrewsForget the nine months, the breast feeding, the cleaning of one’s mess, and all the other obvious things that mothers do; my mother sometimes thinks that this grown man is still her responsibility.I guess you can say that that’s a mother’s love-but that’s my mother’s love.There are four of us and while all mothers like to say they have no favourite, I like to think that I’m her favourite.She never petted me though. The wooden broom, a cup of hot water and even wiri wiri pepper were my mother’s assistants whenever I stepped out of line, which me and my brother did a lot.For me, every day is Mother’s Day; my colleagues at the work place could tell you that if I cannot see her whenever she is in Guyana, a day does not go by without me and my mother exchanging telephone calls.We both suffer from high blood pressure and our conversation would normally go like this- “Dale, how’s the pressure?” “It’s okay mom.” “Did you take your tablets?” “Yes mommy, what about you?” “Boy, pain, my whole body in pain.” “Mom, you need to move around more.”-then it would be on to other things like my children and work.How she loves what I do. I guess she’s one proud mother-she even bought me a “special” pen that really sets me apart from some of my colleagues.I lost my father when I was 14 years old, at a time when I was preparing to write my O’Level examinations.My mother, a normal hardworking public servant, ensured that she scraped the money to enable me (and later on my two sisters) to sit the examinations. Of course we did not disappoint.Every day I thank God for my mother, having almost lost her on two occasions, one of which I can vividly recall.It was almost 20 years ago. I was a working man and my mother was still washing my clothes.One Saturday morning, I woke up and went downstairs where she was engaged with her weekly laundry. She said something to me and I realized that her speech was slurred. I immediately grabbed her away from the washing and maybe it was in the nick of time for there and then she collapsed–she had suffered a stroke for which she spent a few weeks recovering in hospital. That was the last time she did my laundry.Thank God she has lived to this day. I have not always been a good son to her but she continues to be a great mother to me and even my children.If you ask me what gift I am getting her today-that’s simple-my undying love- for there is nothing in this world that I can buy for my mom that would compensate for the mother she has been to me.(Dale Andrews)Nurtured by a superwomanAs a boy given to wild flights of fantasy, I often imagined her as being some sort of female super-hero with martial arts skills and a Buddhist monk’s serenity.? I even gave her a super-hero’s name.I guess that is because, even then, I knew that she was special.Mrs. Mary JordanShe’s the toughest person I know. She’s also the most gentle. She’s named after two queens.
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