A Mother's Love

Patricia. I am your mother. I want to share a story of love from me to you on this lead into Mother’s Day.

Unconditional love swept over me at your birth. Your sweet little face and eyes looking up at me overwhelmed me with a love I couldn’t have imagined before.

As a mother it's hard to comprehend one can love one child as much then give birth to another and love them just as much.

Thank you for listening to my story. I have loved you until the day I died and then loved you some more. Keep up the amazing leadership of the school. It is beautiful to observe the transition from being a fisherman to a school principal.

Thank you for standing up to those who wish to pull you down. Their ethics need a kick up the arse. 

*Patricia is my mother in law. 

Hi. My name is Charles. I live at number 40 Trainers Way. There is a ruin under this house. Most of it was destroyed in the construction of this house.  It had been deteriorating over many years. There was only a few skerricks of evidence left. 

My parents immigrated from England. They took up land here. We felled the trees to make way for grazing stock. In drought years we would come to the waterholes to feed the stock. We competed with the kangaroos and wallabies for fresh grasses. 

Tonight I would like to share my story about my mother. She would bake bread for us every day. It was her love language to instil in us good nutritional food. She would grow a few vegetables closer to the waterhole. The kangaroos loved her garden too. We constantly protected her garden with high brush fences to keep the roos out. There was a time when mother fed neighbours with her vegetables just like Fiona does. It brings me great joy to see a garden so productive once again.

Thank you for listening to my story. I offer you protection from pests and disease. With your consent I can assist the removal of pests like roos and rabbits. Just ask me and I will chase them out. 

My name is Percival. My family called me Percy. I live over the back fence at the GoKart grounds. 

As a child I would play in the scrub around the cemetery with my brothers and sisters. We would build cubby houses and make forts. We had complex games which went on for days. We would trade properties and use the coins we would borrow from our parents as currency.  Shhh, don’t tell our parents we 'borrowed' their coins!! We always returned their coins as we were afraid of being the victim of Mum’s wooden spoon discipline.

There was a time Mother asked where all the coins had gone. We huddled together as a family to share the news we had 'borrowed' the coins for our game. Unknowingly, she had a debt to pay. We had to scurry back to the scrub to collect the coins for her immediately. We laughed about this as adults, but not as children.  

After this moment we chose to trade properties with bones from left over roast lamb. Different sized bones had different values. Interestingly our properties game became even better when we had the imagination to use bone currency as there were more bones than coins. It was a game like today’s Monopoly game. We loved playing it even though it would go on for days.

Thank you for listening to my story. I protect the GoKart Club from financial ruin. Can I ask for your consent to protect your home from financial ruin too? 

I will ensure your financial stability to the best I can.

Hi. My name is Ann. I live across the road. 

I am the youngest child. I never knew my mother as she died in childbirth. I was raised by my aunt. The heartache I felt not knowing my mother throughout my entire life left an emotional hole I never knew how to fill. My aunt was loving and kind. She never thought of me as anyone other than her child. But there was always a hole in my heart where my mother’s love was meant to be. 

My father loved my mother dearly. He was never the same, according to my siblings, after my mother died. He too had a broken heart.

Thank you for listening to my story.

Thank you for sharing my story as you wish. 

Hello, my name is Arthur. I live at number 101. 

I bring the story of my mother’s heartfelt love to you through her love language of sewing.

She would embroider exquisite table cloths to adorn side tables and dining tables. These often had embroidered edges to enhance their beauty. When each of us left home, she would gift us a set of table cloths made with her unconditional love for us.

We treasured these gifts from her. 

Thank you for listening to my story.

I am Thomas. I live on the riverbank in Willyaroo near the one lane bridge. Today I’d like to share the story of my mothers love for me.

She would openly hug us children every time we reconnected after school, after work, after leaving home. She adored us all and we knew it. Her love endured through the toughest moments of our lives. She always had a loving, caring, kind word for us in any moment of any day. Her kindness brought comfort on our worst days as well as our happiest days. She loved hard, worked hard, and became our hero and family legend. To love others like she did so openly was to love unconditionally.

Please dear readers embrace these acts of kindness into your days. You will notice a shift in the ways people interact with you. It will be for the better. 

Thank you for listening to my story Fiona.  I appreciate the opportunity to have my voice heard by many.

My name is Stephanie. 

I moved here as a small child. My family took up land nearby. I never really felt at home here as I missed my former home. Since my death I have come to terms with my life’s journey. My mother did not want to move either. She also missed our home. Together we would silently walk to the shops knowing neither of us wanted to be here. This common grief brought us closer together. She showed me how to live a contented happy life beside grief. Together we walked a similar path. Together we loved. Together we had grief beside us which never truly disappeared. Being home means different things to different people. I am at home here now in Willyaroo. I find joy now in comforting those who experience the grief like I experienced.  

Thank you for hearing the story of my mothers enduring love of comfort and grief. She was a loving kind wife to my father and a loving kind mother to her children. 

Please publish this for those who grieve for their home.