Remember Me When I Am Gone Away

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Remember Me When I Am Gone Away

November 25, 2015 by Frances Macaulay Forde

Dear Jean, I do understand.
A couple of years ago, we were selling our fudge at a festival in Mindarie Keys. Standing with the crystal water behind us, a fresh sea breeze cooling the heat, this face materialised in front of me. My legs buckled and I thought I would fall. I must have smiled and offered her a sample to try, but don’t remember. All I know is, it seemed my dear mother was standing there, smiling that special smile. It wasn’t, but they say we all have a doppelganger and this was my mum’s. I served her in a dream – she bought the Scottish Tablet and wandered off.
Although we were four people deep waiting to be served, I left my husband to deal with them all and chased after the lady, still not entirely sure she was real.
She sat down on a bench near a visiting chef’s tent and was about to sample her son (the chef’s) seafood. As I explained, her sweet face softened and the threatening tears filled my eyes. My mother’s voice seemed to say I shouldn’t be embarrassed and held my hand while I mentally listed so many uncanny similarities.
I could have sat there for hours… but Hubby was sending worried looks across, between customers. We exchanged cards so I could email when I got home – keep in touch.
I didn’t want to say goodbye but the hug was genuine and healing for me.
When I lost Mum I was living down south and never got to say goodbye.
Finally, I felt as if I did.

Posted in Writing | 1 Comment

One Response

on November 30, 2015 at 9:32 pm | Reply socialbridge

Frances, this is so beautiful. I’ve had the odd glimpse of people who have looked like my mother and then moved off. I did get to say goodbye to her but I think I would have done exactly what you did if I hadn’t. jxxx

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