Who is my Mother and how well do I know her ,

I asked myself .

I began to write things down about her and would like to share some of my Mothers life with you .;

 

My mothers father was a musician and was popular at most of the dances and parties . He tried in vain to teach my Mother to play the accordion but my Mum was always in a hurry to do Irish Dancing up in the church hall .

 

My Mother's mother often brought some food over to the Poor Clare Nuns and all my Mother could see was this pair of hands reach out from little flap in the wall and take the food . The Poor Clares then were totally an enclosed order .

This made a great impression on my Mother then .

 

Still very young and naive my Mother was struck by tragedy .

Both her parents died and she was left alone at this tender young age .

Her Father had died first with phenomena followed by her mother .

 

On the day of her mothers funeral some relatives had gathered in the house where my mothers had grown up . Some of them spoke of placing my Mother into an orphanage . At this my Mother exploded in a fit of rage and chased everyone of them from the house .

She told them not to return .

Most were shocked by my Mothers response and even a little scared .

The strength my Mother found then has always been a big part of her life .

 

 

Alone in the world my Mother found a job in a Spinning Mill in Belfast where she worked every day to pay her way .

With most of her money going on rent and other bills she had little left for food and often went without .

Even though all the neighbours knew she was on her own not one of them ever came to offer her support in any share or form .

 

She continued to work away until her early teens and sewed and stitched bits of cloth together to make a few extra pennies .

As she grew into a young lady she made some good friends like Patsy .

One summer they both had a few pounds saved and decided to take a holiday to the Isle of Man where she first met my Father .

 

After the holiday was over things began to look up for my Mum .

My Mum again met my Dad who actually lived in the Village of Ardoyne .

Both lof them had never met before the trip to The Isle Of Man .

My Father was considering a religious vocation at this time and only for meeting my Mother he would have become a priest .

From that time they started courting .

Going to the dance each Friday night in Ardoyne Hall they listened to Joseph Locke the famous Irish Tenor sing a selection of ballads between the dances .

 

It wasn;t long before my Father proposed and they were married in Holy Cross Catholic Church in Ardoyne .

The first child Marian was born in 1954 then myself and three more girls .

 

I still remember asking for a brother but each time a child was born she would tell me that there were no boys in the shop that day .

 

Somehow I believed her and wished for a brother . But it seemed the shop wee all out of boys .

I grew up sisters and my Mother made most of our clothes .

She often sat up all night with a knitting machine making jumpers for me and sewing together cloths for the girls .

She made sure we were spotless and well dressed .

My Father worked for a seed merchant and each evening he met my Mother in the back entry as she made her way to work at night . She took on an extra job as a waitress in a Belfast Café .

 

My Father looked after us in the evening but I always waited up until I heard my Mother coming home . Then I'd run down the stairs as often she would bring home a few sausage rolls from the café that were left over . My older sister and I sometimes shared one of them beside the fireplace .

 

My Mother made the seasonal times of the year special .

At Halloween she made toffee apples for us .

At Christmas she decorated the house like a fairyland .

She made sure birthday cards had a little something special inside .

 

The care my Mother took bathing us as children , combing our hair , doing the washing was more than anyone could ask for .

We were at church every Sunday .

 

 

However there was one day I'll never forget . It was the day I first started school . My Mother promised that she would stay at the school gate until I got out . I sat all day with tears in my eyes because I couldn't see her there .

I thought she had left me .

 

A poem

Mothers Gate

 

 

On my first day at school my Mother left me at the gate ,

And in that moment there like a orphan I could relate .

I was nobody's child and abandoned by my Mother

All day alone inside the school I sat looking for her .  .

Who was who and what's new in the school  community,

Then finally  the bell rang at three , I ran to the gate  .

Looking for her face, where or where was she , my Mother ?

Great .

Among all those people she reached out for me , that's my Mum .

With both her arms she lifted me .

"Hello my little son "

We walked home together hand in hand again on that day ,

When I first started school and I thought she had run away .

Now these days school has finished and my lessons have been taught .

My Mother is at home and I in the work place am caught .

The daily grind is where I find I've now become a man

And my Mother waits by her gate ,

I visit when I can .

 

 

By Paul McCann

 

 

School days began and I was soon in long trousers .

My Mother was at every concert I sang at and at every play I acted in  .

She was my best friend and never let me down .

 

Now came the day my Father decided to buy a car . The triumph herald arrived one Sunday afternoon out the front of the house .

All of us kids could hardly believe that it was ours until my Father drove us around the village .

What a difference it made to our lives then .

Each weekend was now a big new experience .

The seven of us went driving all around Northern Ireland .

Beaches and mountains , motorways and country lanes .

 

My Mother had decided to try and get her drivers license but gave up after a number of attempts .

 

It had to come I guess , Mum and Dad had to sell the car .

After a while it had become a burden with the payments too expensive and the cars  keep too much .

 

The troubles hit Belfast in 1967 and my Mother was worried for our safety and asked my Father to get us out of the war .

 

Within a fortnight our bags were packed and we were on board a plane to Australia . My Mother was homesick for at least the first ten years but she knew it was how things had to be .

 

Each week we would get letters from home telling us about people we knew who had been killed in the troubles and my Mother thanked God her children were safe .

 

 

 

 

God Loves Mothers

By Paul McCann

God couldn't be everywhere so he created Mothers to show someone cares.

Mothers bring us our gentle ways .

They are understanding and they have graceful airs .

 

Mothers have time to put the ribbons in and make little curls for little girls .

Their femininity in life is like a ballerinas dance of twirls and swirls .

 

Mothers develop men from boys and they never give up hard as they may be .

When life's cruel , a Mother brings normality in the madness and sanity .

 

She is the person that always gives

and the person that will always pull you through .

We need Mothers and their continual reassurance that's says

Yes God loves you .

 

 

 

I owe a lot to my Mother  .

More than I could ever repay .

 

But knowing her she wouldn't take a penny anyway .

 

 

The End