what we remember

Hi my loves ♥️

I am coming to you, on a Friday night at almost 11 pm. Candles are lit, I’ve exfoliated this week off of me, my hyaluronic acid has been applied, and my legs are up against my wall for my nightly lymphatic drainage. 

Can I tell you a few of my favorite things right now? Rose petal tea, the “Calm” pills by Arrae, and listening to “3:15” by Russ. (Also, love how I hyperlinked everything so it’s easy to create the mood).

And I’ll tell you a few random things that I’ve noticed: I like having a theme to my newsletters, and I’ve always been terrible at writing introductions & conclusions. Probably because I have two extremes - I either talk too much or say too little. Which is why I can never summarize, or be on Twitter. 

So, this week was International Women’s day, and it was also my mom’s birthday. And you know what? I cannot tell you how old she turned. I think it’s 62, but I’ve been going back and forth between 62 and 64 - and trying to remember how old she was when she left us, but I cannot remember. 

Do any of us know how old our parents are? Is that something they require of us? I feel like I am still 23, and forget that I’m 28, until my friends started getting married -and then I am reminded that I did not just graduate university a year ago. 

And can I be honest with you? I have never been that girl that dreamt about getting married. And it’s not to say that I don’t appreciate weddings - I love looking at whimsical aesthetics and emerald rings and Tuscan venues. I appreciate a beautifully thrown party, and I appreciate love. 

But I never grew up thinking that getting married would be the best day of my life. And now, at 28, I can attribute that belief to things that don’t have to do with a slew of semi - problematic relationships. 

Growing up, my mom refused to buy my sister and I Ken dolls to go with our Barbies. And I was always confused why my sister and I were the only two kids who had Barbie houses full of Kelly dolls and Beanie babies, but no Kens. We had an entire farm and entire soccer team of kids, but no sign of Ken.

When I graduated from University, her favourite line to repeat to me (and to everyone else) was: “And remember, this degree is something that no man can ever take from you.” 

Independence and individuality was something she instilled in us, and truly are two of the greatest things a mother can teach their daughter. You need to have your own life outside of a partner. You need to have your own career and your own money. And you don’t need to get married to live a beautiful and fulfilled life. And of course, it’s a personal choice - but she wanted us to know that marriage was not going to save us.

I always knew that the people who loved her - really loved her. And the people that didn’t, well they just really didn’t. She had this ability to hold a proverbial mirror to people, and if they didn’t like what they saw - that was that.

She would say to me, “Emily, life is a lot easier when you’ve figured out people’s numbers.”

She loved her work. She taught for 30 years, and her favourite students to teach? Teaching grade 12 English to students who came from broken homes, sometimes the streets, and the judicial system. 

For Take Your Kid To Work Day, I remember sitting at her desk in the classroom.

Her favorite assignment to teach was the “I Am” poem, where students would write sentences using prompts such as “I Am, I Hear, I See, I Dream…” 

You could hear a pin drop as everyone wrote. And when the tiniest bit of volume erupted in the room, she would peer over her glasses and simply state a student’s name, and the class would resume in silence. 

I’ll never forget at her funeral (which she planned - down to the number of cases of San Pellegrino that needed to be ordered), one of her friends led a eulogy with “Rose loved a redemption story.”  I think her secret to success was the fact that she believed in her students. She believed that their stories didn’t define them, and that they, more than anyone, deserved to be in the classroom. And what I loved most about her was the fact that she lived and breathed second chances.

When your heart is in something, you will never lose. 

For my first university toga party - she bought me 4 different togas because we couldn’t decide which one looked the most flattering (aka - which one I thought was the shortest). 

And when I got into my first serious relationship, we went shopping together for each family event I begrudgingly agreed to go to. I show up in 6 inch heels and a leather Zara mini to a grandfather’s 90th birthday party. Did we read the room? Absolutely not, but we didn’t care. 

And I will never forget when I found out that that same ex was cheating on me, and she looked at me and said: “When you lay your head on your pillow and close your eyes at night, I want you to say a prayer to Jesus Christ thanking him for not letting you marry a liar.”

She also told me that Harry Styles had a career on his own, and she worried about Zayn because he seemed sad. And this was when One Direction was prime One Direction. 

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had a mother figure around for my early to mid 20s. Would my life had been easier? Absolutely. 

People like to tell me that I’m strong, and that they don’t know what they would do if they were in my position. I like to tell people that I have no choice. And that it would shock you at how strong we all are when we need to be. Because I think we all carry a moment where we never thought that we would make it through, but we did. 

Our relationship has morphed and changed over the years, but there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about her. 

And there are many things I miss. I miss showing her my outfits before I go out, I miss going to Whole Foods for matcha lattes - and her telling me to just always go to the prepared food section when I need to bring a dish over to someone’s house and saying: no one needs to know.

I miss the sound of her turning the pages of the Toronto Star in the mornings, and the smell of coffee and her toast with peanut butter. I miss listening in on her phone calls with her friends, I miss binge watching Suits till 2 am, and talking about our love for Harvey Spector.

I miss her telling me to stop crying because it causes wrinkles, and I should hold off on Botox and stick to good facials for as long as possible. I miss her religiously reading BlogTO, and making us go to each and every new Italian restaurant and cafe that opened in the city, up to when she was sick. 

I wonder what my life would have been like if she was still here. And if I still would have the same appreciation for pasta and Italy and roses and poetry. Would I have been a writer? Would I have loved everything just as much as I do now, after learning that life is permeable and both people and moments are fleeting?

Well, I think of you when I see roses and sunsets, when I hear Country Roads, when I drink a glass of Pinot Grigio, and when I dream that there is something beautiful out there, waiting for me, and waiting for all of us. 

Maybe I just needed that reminder. Or maybe you just needed that reminder. So, thank you for letting me share part of her story. 

Ending this at 11:11 makes sense to me.

I love you all, and I hope you’re not getting sick of me yet. 

xo forever,

Emily