AD – This post is an advertisement feature with Boots UK but all thoughts are my own
This Mothers Day, Boots have asked me to write a Love note about my mother and the scent that best describes her.
This year is the Eleventh year I won’t be purchasing a Mothers Day card or gift for my mum.
At first I thought I couldn’t possibly take part in this, my mum isn’t even here. I can’t treat her to the perfume or send her my letter to show her how much she means to me. But writing can be therapeutic and saying what you never had chance to can be uplifting.
I wrote about my mum on mothers day 5 years ago – you can read it here – and how on that last mothers day I bought her favourite perfume. Estee Lauder Youth Dew was her scent of choice. A rich woody scented womens perfume, with spicey orange and Middle notes of cloves. To this day I can’t smell it without having a flood of memories and emotions rush over me.
And that made me realise, the scents our loved ones wear mean more to us when they’re no longer here. Our sense of smell has the ability to trigger memories and take us back to moments in time.
I hope my own children can smell particular scents and have that same close and comforting feeling that it gives me when I smell my mum nearby.
So here it is. A love note to my mum, and how her scent helps keep the memories alive.
Dear Mum,
It’s been eleven years since I heard your voice or felt your touch. Eleven years since I last saw your beautiful face and talked about my day with you on the phone.
A lot has happened over time, both good and bad times have been had, yet they’d have all been greater with you here.
I got that degree a year after you passed, you’d have been so proud and I have two children of my own now who you would absolutely love. I could have given one of them your name but I know how much you hated your own name and naming a baby Deborah would be mean, in fact I think you’d have a go at me if I did.
Taylor is 5 and Harriet is 2, they’d have loved having you in their lives, I know you’d have spoilt them rotten and made them laugh just as much as you did the rest of us.
There would have been family BBQ’s with the kids running around in the summer, sleep overs and endless laughter with their Grandma and Granddad.
I still regret not coming and helping you shave your legs or paint your nails, in those final weeks, like I’d said I would. I was caught up in uni and work, which at the time seemed to matter, looking back those things shouldn’t have mattered at all. I should have been with you.
We were all naive in thinking things were going to be different, the talk of colostomy bags and treatment gave false hope. None of that happened, you were taken far sooner than I expected.
I’ve never gotten a tattoo, because I’ve never wanted one, but also because I hear you every time saying “If you get a tattoo you won’t be stepping foot in this house!”
I can’t smell your perfume without having floods of memories come rushing over me, it’s bittersweet like waves lifting you up as they rise, and then crashing as they fall. The good memories, and the guilt, wishing I’d been there more and done more.
Memories of you dancing around to The Beautiful South as you cleaned the house, always laughing and smiling, the year we had two Christmases because Dad was away on the actual day, that summer you broke your leg and the time you told me we were going hat shopping for you and you took me to on the Metro the life centre.
Our first and only holiday abroad together when I was 15, and you taking me to buy my new phone on my 18th Birthday.
Eating your Sunday roast whilst watching the soaps, Little House on The Prairie and The Waltons. Goodnight Jim Bob!
That last summer, when Dad found those bags full of pigs in the attic, we were all sat in the living room with toy pigs all over us, I can still hear your laughter.
I remember when you used to talk about your own mum, who I never got to meet, and how you’d say even grown ups miss their mums, you weren’t wrong. People say it gets easier with time, but it doesn’t, you just learn to carry on, it doesn’t change anything.
I recall one day long before we knew you were sick, when you hugged me so tight and said “I love you, you know that don’t you?” like you knew something we didn’t.
We’re all doing well and you’d be so proud of Eric and Naomi. Eric has a family now too and if it’s true what they say about loved ones watching over us, then you’ll know that it hasn’t been easy, for any of us. I’d give everything to have you back here with Dad and everyone still making those amazing memories.
I could go on forever talking about Christmases past, family trips to beach with the dingy and summer days in the garden growing up.
Until the day we meet again I’ll hold onto the memories and think of you. Especially when I smell that iconic scent that reminds me of you. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for you. You always put us first. I wish we could have done more for you.
Happy Mothers Day, Mum.
Love you always, Lisa xxx
