I Am a Motherless Daughter
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Ma, you loved all clothes. Beautiful stylish and different clothes. You spent your whole life making them, from when you were a young woman until the day you couldn’t anymore. You made dresses for when you went dancing, to the movies or for any occasion you felt like. You made curtains for your houses, bedspreads, table cloths, you name it. You won various 1st places for the quality of your work in your life.
Later, when Dad built the house, he built a special room for you for your sewing machines and overlockers. As a girl I have copious memories of playing at your feet while you were in there, the machine going tacka-tacka-tacka. The radio was always playing and I loved looking at your numerous buttons, materials, your zigzag scissors, dress patterns and your all your bits and bobs to do with sewing. You were very strict with your equipment however and I had to treat it with respect. There was no way I was cutting paper with material scissors, for example, a cardinal sin in your book.
You tried teaching me a couple of times, but I wasn’t really interested in sewing, fortunately your other daughter had more of an interest in that, yet I loved what you made and enjoyed going to material shops with you to look at the different colours and textures of the various materials you liked buying.
Later, when I was a teenager, I tried designing dresses and you, Ma would always look at my designs, give me ideas and positive feedback, and the two of us would go to the material shop together and get the pattern for my design. You had such a good eye and you were such an artist. You always helped me fulfil my fantasies, no matter how crazy my ideas seemed to others. These trips were followed with a bite to eat and long chat sessions about anything. I had the most beautiful and unique clothes too. All my friends commented on my funky clothes and wanted you to make for them as well. You know what Ma? I still have all those dresses we created together. All of them. I keep and guard them possesivley and sometimes still wear some of the items. I’m hoping that one day your granddaughter may be interested in wearing them.
When your son got married you made our bridesmaids dresses, they were beautiful, you stitched beading into the bodices of the dresses for hours. I remember how we looked at the beads together and I’d try and make jewellery with your various beads while you you sewed. My school farewell dress was black velvet, with tassels, it’s still there and I’m wearing it again soon. It’s beautiful! You and I used to argue about so many things, but never about fashion and dresses you made for me, others and yourself, we somehow always agreed. We had the same creative vision.
Much later, when I got married, you made my husband’s medieval outfit. You had perfect ideas and could instantly picture what I had in mind. Wow Ma! You were so good. It came out perfectly, my husband and his brother looked like two knights from the middle earth realm in the clothes you made for them. You made things better than any shop bought clothes ever. You made your eldest daughter’s wedding dress too, and it was so perfect Ma. She looked so beautiful that day.
I moved out and we converted my old bedroom into your new sewing room. Everyone visited you there - shared a cup of coffee, a chat, whatever, my brothers with something to be repaired, my sister in laws who can sew too. All your grandchildren played at your feet at some point in there, the same way I did, And your other daughter too of course, who did a sewing course inspired by her Ma. Dad would come, just to say hello to his hard working sweetheart, he’s a shorty, and you’d always shorten trousers for him. Who’s going to do that for him now Ma, now that you’re gone?
Not only did you love making clothes, you loved looking at them. I spent hours of my life with you at malls. We would go into every single clothing shop, have lunch and carry on. Sometimes getting back at night. You loved it and so did I. It was precious time we had together, hanging around, chatting and looking at clothes and shoes and everything. I miss those days so desperately Ma, and I would give anything to have one of those days with you again.
Up to your eighties, you never ever dressed like a fuddy duddy. You NEVER dressed old fashioned. You always looked like a movie star. You’d get up in the morning and dress in your funky jeep cargo pants, elegant top, jewellery, hair, make up. Even if your only plans for the day were to work in the garden. And your husband always looked suave and elegant too. You made sure of that. You had such pride in your appearance as well as the person you were.
Unfortunately you got sick and in the last six months of your life you somewhat lost interest in your clothes. But on good days, we’d go shopping and you’d still want to look at clothes enthusiastically. Or do your tapestries, that you were good at too. Your house is hanging full of all those works of art. I look at them often, thinking that you stitched every single stitch. And no mundane flower or boring nature scenes for you, the tapestries had to be copies of the great master’s art works, The Night-watch from Rembrandt, The Mona Lisa, that kind of thing. They are huge and amazing. You were an artist.
I don’t know if you’ll remember this Ma, but the last week of your life, you were lying there in that hospital bed, a little confused. But vaguely knowing what was going on. One of your daughter in laws was wearing a jacket similar to one you own. You opened your blue eyes and you said to her;
You've been scratching in my cupboard wearing my clothes haven’t you? We all teased you, saying yes Ma. We said we’re having a good time digging in your clothes and wearing your clothes you better come home soon so that you can stop us. Everyone laughed and you smiled and mumbled ....very very naughty of you guys. It was a funny moment where the whole lot of us, your family smiled with you in knowing your love of clothes. One of the last times with you.
You died two days later. And my heart is crushed. I miss you so much Ma. I think of you in everything I see and do.
Now, a month after your death, your cupboards remain locked. Yes....you have three, full of beautiful clothes. I found some of your clothes in Dad’s cupboard the other day. You had so many, you even started using his space. Smiles.
Here and there my sister and I wear some of your clothes. It’s feels nice to wear them, I feel close to you. They are so funky. One day I hope we have the strength to go through your clothes together, your two daughters, and to give everyone something of yours. It’s hard though, because although it’s just material, we remember almost every single occasion you wore something, asked our opinions or showed us.
Since you died....I have been unconcerned about my own clothes or appearance. I’ve been too sad to care. But one day I’ll be elegant again, just like you were. I promise. I’ll wake up in the morning and think, Ma never would’ve been so scruffy.
In your honour.
I miss you Ma and I love you. I salute you, forever.
Your daughter
C
Ma, you loved all clothes. Beautiful stylish and different clothes. You spent your whole life making them, from when you were a young woman until the day you couldn’t anymore. You made dresses for when you went dancing, to the movies or for any occasion you felt like. You made curtains for your houses, bedspreads, table cloths, you name it. You won various 1st places for the quality of your work in your life.
Later, when Dad built the house, he built a special room for you for your sewing machines and overlockers. As a girl I have copious memories of playing at your feet while you were in there, the machine going tacka-tacka-tacka. The radio was always playing and I loved looking at your numerous buttons, materials, your zigzag scissors, dress patterns and your all your bits and bobs to do with sewing. You were very strict with your equipment however and I had to treat it with respect. There was no way I was cutting paper with material scissors, for example, a cardinal sin in your book.
You tried teaching me a couple of times, but I wasn’t really interested in sewing, fortunately your other daughter had more of an interest in that, yet I loved what you made and enjoyed going to material shops with you to look at the different colours and textures of the various materials you liked buying.
Later, when I was a teenager, I tried designing dresses and you, Ma would always look at my designs, give me ideas and positive feedback, and the two of us would go to the material shop together and get the pattern for my design. You had such a good eye and you were such an artist. You always helped me fulfil my fantasies, no matter how crazy my ideas seemed to others. These trips were followed with a bite to eat and long chat sessions about anything. I had the most beautiful and unique clothes too. All my friends commented on my funky clothes and wanted you to make for them as well. You know what Ma? I still have all those dresses we created together. All of them. I keep and guard them possesivley and sometimes still wear some of the items. I’m hoping that one day your granddaughter may be interested in wearing them.
When your son got married you made our bridesmaids dresses, they were beautiful, you stitched beading into the bodices of the dresses for hours. I remember how we looked at the beads together and I’d try and make jewellery with your various beads while you you sewed. My school farewell dress was black velvet, with tassels, it’s still there and I’m wearing it again soon. It’s beautiful! You and I used to argue about so many things, but never about fashion and dresses you made for me, others and yourself, we somehow always agreed. We had the same creative vision.
Much later, when I got married, you made my husband’s medieval outfit. You had perfect ideas and could instantly picture what I had in mind. Wow Ma! You were so good. It came out perfectly, my husband and his brother looked like two knights from the middle earth realm in the clothes you made for them. You made things better than any shop bought clothes ever. You made your eldest daughter’s wedding dress too, and it was so perfect Ma. She looked so beautiful that day.
I moved out and we converted my old bedroom into your new sewing room. Everyone visited you there - shared a cup of coffee, a chat, whatever, my brothers with something to be repaired, my sister in laws who can sew too. All your grandchildren played at your feet at some point in there, the same way I did, And your other daughter too of course, who did a sewing course inspired by her Ma. Dad would come, just to say hello to his hard working sweetheart, he’s a shorty, and you’d always shorten trousers for him. Who’s going to do that for him now Ma, now that you’re gone?
Not only did you love making clothes, you loved looking at them. I spent hours of my life with you at malls. We would go into every single clothing shop, have lunch and carry on. Sometimes getting back at night. You loved it and so did I. It was precious time we had together, hanging around, chatting and looking at clothes and shoes and everything. I miss those days so desperately Ma, and I would give anything to have one of those days with you again.
Up to your eighties, you never ever dressed like a fuddy duddy. You NEVER dressed old fashioned. You always looked like a movie star. You’d get up in the morning and dress in your funky jeep cargo pants, elegant top, jewellery, hair, make up. Even if your only plans for the day were to work in the garden. And your husband always looked suave and elegant too. You made sure of that. You had such pride in your appearance as well as the person you were.
Unfortunately you got sick and in the last six months of your life you somewhat lost interest in your clothes. But on good days, we’d go shopping and you’d still want to look at clothes enthusiastically. Or do your tapestries, that you were good at too. Your house is hanging full of all those works of art. I look at them often, thinking that you stitched every single stitch. And no mundane flower or boring nature scenes for you, the tapestries had to be copies of the great master’s art works, The Night-watch from Rembrandt, The Mona Lisa, that kind of thing. They are huge and amazing. You were an artist.
I don’t know if you’ll remember this Ma, but the last week of your life, you were lying there in that hospital bed, a little confused. But vaguely knowing what was going on. One of your daughter in laws was wearing a jacket similar to one you own. You opened your blue eyes and you said to her;
You've been scratching in my cupboard wearing my clothes haven’t you? We all teased you, saying yes Ma. We said we’re having a good time digging in your clothes and wearing your clothes you better come home soon so that you can stop us. Everyone laughed and you smiled and mumbled ....very very naughty of you guys. It was a funny moment where the whole lot of us, your family smiled with you in knowing your love of clothes. One of the last times with you.
You died two days later. And my heart is crushed. I miss you so much Ma. I think of you in everything I see and do.
Now, a month after your death, your cupboards remain locked. Yes....you have three, full of beautiful clothes. I found some of your clothes in Dad’s cupboard the other day. You had so many, you even started using his space. Smiles.
Here and there my sister and I wear some of your clothes. It’s feels nice to wear them, I feel close to you. They are so funky. One day I hope we have the strength to go through your clothes together, your two daughters, and to give everyone something of yours. It’s hard though, because although it’s just material, we remember almost every single occasion you wore something, asked our opinions or showed us.
Since you died....I have been unconcerned about my own clothes or appearance. I’ve been too sad to care. But one day I’ll be elegant again, just like you were. I promise. I’ll wake up in the morning and think, Ma never would’ve been so scruffy.
In your honour.
I miss you Ma and I love you. I salute you, forever.
Your daughter
C
