Thought for today:
"During her later life, my mother loved to have a drink of rum and black currant, along with one cigarette, followed by another cigarette and then another. She worked long and hard all her life bringing up a family of seven children, of which I'm the eldest, and during her early years of marriage when my father played international football for Ireland, she was a soccer widow on most weekends. In many ways, my mum was the opposite type of character to my dad, and whereas he would tend to say little and keep to himself, mum said too much and was brazenly upfront with it!
It was one of mum's constant grumbles that because dad never drank alcohol (apart from the customary Christmas glass of sherry), he never took her out for a drink; neither did he dance, something she loved to do.
Mum was a social animal and loved to chat and mix whenever the opportunity arose. Consequently, she would jump at the opportunity to have a drink in a local pub with any of her children. I'll always remember her once telling me after she'd discovered that I'd visited a pub on my own for a drink, 'Billy, when handsome men drink alone, the women of the world have much to answer for.'
All day long mum, could be heard singing out of tune one of her favourite Vera Lynn songs, and often, when I sneaked up on her, I'd catch her dancing around the kitchen alone as she folded the ironing or performed some other chore. I swear that had the ironing board held her weight, she would have danced on top of my father's shirt as she secretly smiled! While in later life mum suffered from ill health (both mental and physical), during the whole of my growing up years, she was always cheerful and positive in her outlook on life. She was generous to a fault and I never heard a bad word said about her. However inclement the weather was one day, she believed it would be better the next. She ensured that I grew from child to adult always carrying a bucket of hope.
This photograph of me at the bar of a pub in Liversedge, 21 years ago, was taken when the family met up and I was buying a round. At the time, mum was ill and her seven children were all naturally concerned about her. A few weeks later she had died at the early age of 64 years.
Following mum's death, I cried for about a week while I tidied and sorted her belongings out. Although initially having been shocked with mum's early death, because I'd always loved her and done my best for her, my grief wasn't unhealthily protracted. My memories of her shall always remain treasured.
From all she taught me within her Irish-spun words of wisdom she daily bestowed (whether or not we wanted to hear it), a few unforgettable things remain fondly remembered by me. She taught me that there is a time to live and a time to die and that for everyone who lives a good and wholesome existence, both life and death should be times of celebration. She taught me that there is a time to resist and a time to relent; a time to speak out and a time to hold one's tongue. Above all else, however, mum taught me that there should never be a time when it is off limits to say, 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you', and there is never a time when one should not be allowed to sing and dance! Love you mum, and in his own way, I know that dad loved you also." William Forde: October 14th, 2017.
"During her later life, my mother loved to have a drink of rum and black currant, along with one cigarette, followed by another cigarette and then another. She worked long and hard all her life bringing up a family of seven children, of which I'm the eldest, and during her early years of marriage when my father played international football for Ireland, she was a soccer widow on most weekends. In many ways, my mum was the opposite type of character to my dad, and whereas he would tend to say little and keep to himself, mum said too much and was brazenly upfront with it!
It was one of mum's constant grumbles that because dad never drank alcohol (apart from the customary Christmas glass of sherry), he never took her out for a drink; neither did he dance, something she loved to do.
Mum was a social animal and loved to chat and mix whenever the opportunity arose. Consequently, she would jump at the opportunity to have a drink in a local pub with any of her children. I'll always remember her once telling me after she'd discovered that I'd visited a pub on my own for a drink, 'Billy, when handsome men drink alone, the women of the world have much to answer for.'
All day long mum, could be heard singing out of tune one of her favourite Vera Lynn songs, and often, when I sneaked up on her, I'd catch her dancing around the kitchen alone as she folded the ironing or performed some other chore. I swear that had the ironing board held her weight, she would have danced on top of my father's shirt as she secretly smiled! While in later life mum suffered from ill health (both mental and physical), during the whole of my growing up years, she was always cheerful and positive in her outlook on life. She was generous to a fault and I never heard a bad word said about her. However inclement the weather was one day, she believed it would be better the next. She ensured that I grew from child to adult always carrying a bucket of hope.
This photograph of me at the bar of a pub in Liversedge, 21 years ago, was taken when the family met up and I was buying a round. At the time, mum was ill and her seven children were all naturally concerned about her. A few weeks later she had died at the early age of 64 years.
Following mum's death, I cried for about a week while I tidied and sorted her belongings out. Although initially having been shocked with mum's early death, because I'd always loved her and done my best for her, my grief wasn't unhealthily protracted. My memories of her shall always remain treasured.
From all she taught me within her Irish-spun words of wisdom she daily bestowed (whether or not we wanted to hear it), a few unforgettable things remain fondly remembered by me. She taught me that there is a time to live and a time to die and that for everyone who lives a good and wholesome existence, both life and death should be times of celebration. She taught me that there is a time to resist and a time to relent; a time to speak out and a time to hold one's tongue. Above all else, however, mum taught me that there should never be a time when it is off limits to say, 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you', and there is never a time when one should not be allowed to sing and dance! Love you mum, and in his own way, I know that dad loved you also." William Forde: October 14th, 2017.
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