Easter can be a tricky time for me, as the holy week coincided with my mother's death in 1998. I'm no longer deeply sad when the anniversary comes around, but I do miss her, and it's during this time of year that I stop to reflect on my warmest memories of her.
On my last trip back to New Jersey I finally went through the last of the boxes Robyn was storing for me, mostly photographs and small artefacts that I didn't feel ready to part with four years ago. There were photos I'd forgotten about, and ones I knew I'd tucked away that would come back to England with me. In the latter collection were a number of 3 x 3 black-and-white prints of my mother when she was in her late 20s, I'd say, dressed in a crisp white shirt and wearing her dark hair in a short, wavy style reminiscent of Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca. She was clearly happy and relaxed, not exactly posing but not being camera shy. I love these photos, glad to have kept them in my possession. In fact, Robyn coaxed me into giving her one of them--I was happy to, actually; at one point I think we'd had them displayed when we both lived in Harrison together.
There is yet another, an 8 x 10 portrait, her hair a bit longer, at her shoulders, a colour similar to mine. She is wearing an aqua-coloured top, silky, and a silver choker. I always thought it was a most beautiful photo, and I imagined that it was taken when she was in her 30s--I don't know for certain, and I know that styles being what they were, photographs from the 50s and 60s always made their subjects appear older. There is no indication of the year anywhere on the photograph--only that it is a Lorstan photograph, and they have been around, in Newark, since 1926. When I was younger I used to imagine that she was 36 in the photograph, and that I always wanted to look that lovely when I got to be that age.
Another prized photograph is one taken much later, probably when she was close to 60, and she is wearing a leopard-print winter coat of faux fur, posing with a huge smile on her face, holding the coat tightly wrapped around her and just crouching a bit. I think I love this photo because she is truly happy. Christmas was a nice time each and every year--we all gathered at her home, and there were presents of all sorts no matter how little she had to spend; she always had something for us. She made wonderful food and pies and there was the Yule log on the TV, the Sinatra Christmas album and the tree twinkling in the front of the living room. Home, her home, was a warm, welcoming place--you knew you could always go back, no matter what, and she'd take you in.
My mom didn't have the happiest life, to be honest--my parents divorced in the late 70s and there was a lot on her to take care of all six of us--the youngest being just 11 at the time--and the family court was not generous with "maintenance." She did well to feed, clothe, and care for us. We had wonderful times together, particularly holidays when, as we got older we could afford to take her away, to places like Hawaii, the Bahamas, or Puerto Rico--places she truly enjoyed. She loved the beach and the sun, and was rather fond of the casinos in Puerto Rico!
Funny, though, some of my more cherished memories are sitting around the kitchen table in the evening playing Scrabble or cards, or dropping by in the morning before work when, having long moved out of Jersey City myself I'd still go back to get my car serviced there, and I'd pop into the McDonald's on the way back and bring us both an Egg McMuffin, and she'd make some good coffee and we'd chat about life.
Today marks the anniversary of her death, and I miss her; I always will. I am sometimes secretly jealous of people who still have their moms, and I think that if my mom were still here, we'd still be friends, she'd have visited me at least once in London, and she'd make me laugh by forcing Mirepoix to sit on her lap, much the same way our cat was made to when we lived in Jersey City, despite not wanting to. She'd agree that the Queen looks like Babci--her mother, my grandmother. And she'd still beat me at Scrabble.
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