Hero

Let me first explain.... my Mummy, who was mother to Carleton and me, died in January. My Mum, on the other hand, is still very much with us. Technically, Mum is my "step mother', and mother to my "half sister" Louise... but in our family we don't believe in that kind of offensive language.



Mum never ceases to amaze me. About ten years ago, she started reminding (okay, nagging) Daddy that she had always wanted to learn to play piano. In her family of six children, there simply wasn't the money for luxuries like piano lessons when she was a child, but she still had the same dream....so fix it, David!!

For Christmas, Daddy rented her an electric piano for a year and arranged lessons. She diligently practiced, learning to read music in the process, and generally had a good time. At the end of the year, Daddy mildly asked if it was time for them to buy an actual piano. Mum, Daddy told me, looked at him like he had gone insane, and said, "No, I wanted to learn how to play piano, and I did. I'm done, thanks all the same."

Fast forward ten years. My father died in April, and Mum's world was changed forever. She mourns him every day, in a thousand different ways, but she (and all of us) must go on. So a few weeks ago, I go out for coffee with Mum, and she asks if I am working the evening of Nov 28 because, ummmm, she may, ummmm, invite me to, ummmm, something.

The woman wouldn't make eye contact with me. "What are you inviting me to, Mum ?"

"Oh.... nothing important....it's not a big deal..."

And so help me God, my first thought was that she was inviting me to a sex-toy party. I mean, why else wouldn't she answer my question?

"WHAT ARE YOU INVITING ME TO, MUM?????"

And so the shocking truth came out. It is well known in our family that Mum has also dreamed of tap dancing since she was 5 years old. So, in August, she secretly enrolled in lessons. Nov 28 was an "open class" night when family and friends could come observe a class.

WHAT??

Of course I attended on Nov 28. And so did Mario. And so did her five best friends.

And we all sat together in a row of hard plastic chairs in a drafty dance studio, watching my mother fulfill her dreams.

Watching the dozen dancers in her class, people ranging in age from 8 to 65, my heart was filled with her joy. Her joy in finally doing something she had always dreamed of. Her sense of humour when she got the steps wrong. Her sense of accomplishment.

And I saw My Mum, the strong and capable woman who raised me. But I also saw the Five Year Old, dreaming of clicking shoes.

I had never seen Her before. I thank God I didn't miss it.

My Mum is my hero, in all things and at all times.