Fifteen Ways to Grieve your Mother
(after Paul Simon)
- Learn to cook the Mother Of All Roasts, complete with high-rise Yorkshire puddings, and gravy from the gods.
- Steer clear of herbal and fruit infusions: they are not tea.
- Refuse to stop for pedestrians waiting at a Zebra Crossing but get irate when drivers fail to stop when you are the pedestrian waiting at a Zebra Crossing.
- Stockpile enough spare tins of beans, vegetables, soup, and prunes to get you through a nuclear winter.
- Cultivate the Art of Malapropism, coining such classics as: ‘He’s just a wolf in cheap clothing,’ and, ‘As happy as Cary [Grant].’
- Blame the recession on the last Labour government/the EU/foreigners-in-general.
- Do say, ‘Thank you for the present. I do hope you kept the receipt.’
- Don’t say, ‘There’s no rush for you to find a husband, and plenty of time for you to have children.’
- Only expect men to hold open the door for you, but grumble when a woman doesn’t do so.
- Deride those who wax lyrical about their wonderful grandchildren all the time, while waxing lyrical all the time about your own wonderful grandchildren.
- Refuse to wear suncream because, ‘We won the war without it, you know.’
- Be stoical in the face of adversity, even when you have a serious brush with skin cancer.
- Remember that her own mother was no good at showing her affection.
- Focus instead on the one time she did tell you that she was proud of you.
- Never forget it was you she wanted to hold her hand at the very end…
… and set yourself free.
Lee Irving writes to try to make sense of the world by exploring what it means to be human, and his work includes everything from micro-fiction to novels. He has won competitions with Writing Magazine and Tortive Lit's #FlashFiction101. You can see more of his published stories at: https://leeirvingwriter.wixsite.com/lee-irving
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