Why can’t we say I love you everyday? Why do we wait to share our love? Using that one special day that gets jammed full of love no matter how many people hate it. We could use a little more love all year round, don’t cha-think? Momma always taught me that I should make sure that everyone I loved knew it. She was the love growing up. She was also one who yelled the most, but I think that’s part of a good Momma’s job description. Her love mandate was for both Bro and I to know that we were loved. She taught me showing love was the most important part of being a good friend, girlfriend and daughter. Express your love without mincing words, so no one could say they never knew I loved them. I could achieve that goal a multitude of ways. I could tell them. I could show them. I could perform an interpretive dance complete with ribbons and leotards. It was up to me and my sense of whimsy, but it was important to do. It’s important because love goes bad if you don’t use it. There is no point saving all that love, you can’t take it with you, but you can leave it behind.
This is love: Every Sunday my Momma and Grandma Far would talk on the phone. A weekly catch up. Each call celebrating the ritual of venting, problem solving and silliness. Each birthday Grandma Far would buy my Momma new winter coat. Those women and their outerwear, I tell you. Coats, gloves, hats, scarves, the accessories that make modern Canadian women so very stylish. Their relationship taught me that love is something that needs to be celebrated and nurtured. They were best friends. Which is the relationship I cultivated with my Momma. I grew up thinking of my Momma not as a tyrannical enemy, but as a valuable ally. When my Grandma Far died so suddenly both Momma and I felt the loss deeply. Of course it effected Papa Bru and my Bro. But the three of us had built a multi-generational sisterhood, no easy task.
Since being a grown up married lady, my Momma and I now have a weekly check in. Our Sunday ritual sometimes falling on Mondays due to scheduling, but it’s always there for me. Our conversations filled with inside jokes, that have evolved for so long their origins are not easily traced. We solve problems; our own, our neighbour’s and the rest of the world’s. That’s when the realization came to me; my Momma was not much older than I am when she lost her Momma. Our lives are very different, at this point she’d had 2 kids and 3 careers. I have no kids, and have had 86 careers. Then an even bigger realization: I want my Momma to be a GrandMomma. Of course this also applies to my GrandPapa Bru, and future Uncle Bro. I want my child to grow up knowing how love feels. Am I ready to spend 9 months growing a baby and 18 years raising what I can only imagine will be a creative and wildly spirited kid…Is anyone ever ready? So, let’s not jump onto the baby bandwagon yet, it’s just a realization. When I am ready I know my family will teach my kids the value of love. And though I tell all my special people I love them all the time, part of me worries that they don’t know how very much. So I think it’s time to whip out the ribbons and interpret my love through song. A vision of love in unitard. I think everyone would really like that, or at least pretend to until just enough time had passed so they could tease me about it. But laughing is a big part of love, and I love that. Let’s not save our love for one dreary day in February, let’s try everyday…or at least once a week.