This is a piece of writing by Muriel Urquhart. Her mother passed away when she was 7 of cancer.

 

I’m sorry for the length, this is the first time I’ve shared most of these stories. If there is anything I wish for you to take away from this, please appreciate your mother.

 

My mother had always yearned of twins, something that was etched into my brain right when I was born. Unfortunately I was the only one, the only child my mother would have and in the absence of a twin sister I had my mother. Burlington coat factory was the spot we found our matching jean skirts and black cardigans, our matching white shirts and wedges. I was mini me to my mother, the youngest of 6 children whom I was named after. Where my mother went, I was trailing alongside in a similar fashion; some of my most vivid memories with her were in our tiny apartments bathroom. Things like opening my eyes and seeing the Winnie the Pooh underwear I had fallen asleep wearing, water splashing on me from above, the hard white surface I was laying on was only recognizable after I twisted forward and my eyes landed on my mothers feet, above me she stood, showering. The bathroom was the place I first had any idea something might have been wrong with my mother. I sat on the toilet next to her in the shower and she passively made a comment about a lump. I was only 4 or 5 and didn’t have any idea what this could entail. Stage 3 breast cancer was what ripped my mother away from me, what left 5 siblings completely lost an dismembered, one of their own taken from them. Maybe what is saddest for me still is the fact that my mother was the only woman my father ever really ever truly loved. My father was what my grandfather referred to as a “stray dog” that my mother “ was always trying to fix,” this is undoubtedly true. They fell in love in Hawaii at a restaurant they both worked at, and my father began flirting with Gregory Urquhart by hitting him with a broom. Their first date was at a sushi place that my mother picked out, despite my father hating sushi, he sat and watched her eat all her food. They had their first kiss that night. These are a few stories my father shared with me a few months ago after not seeing or hearing from him in a decade. Anyways, they were very in love. We were always moving between Rhode Island where my mother hailed from and California where my dad grew up. Shortly after my mother was diagnosed he left and went back to California. I learned the reason he did that was because he couldn’t bare to watch her die, constantly reassuring me that he hasn’t kissed another women since my mother passed away. I have no realistic idea of how long my mother was in the hospital in the end. I remember my biggest wish was that she would make it to my 7th birthday. I would sit in the room with her and talk to her while she lay unconscious, trying to telepathically communicate with her. Mo, my favorite nurse, would make me pancakes and my mother’s friends would pick me up and take me out for fast food. I kept a pair of pajamas that were winter themed in the closet in her room and I would sleep next to her most nights in the hospital bed. She passed away two weeks before my 8th birthday. I remember suddenly waking up and looking over at my Aunt Carla, who soon woke up, then my Aunt Andrea waking up, and going to get the nurse. A nurse came in and I was informed I only had a minute left with my mother. I sat there until is was over. Standing with my aunts I took a last look at the women who loved me more than anything and the women who I love more than anything in the world, a women no one could ever come close to, the women I constantly think about and mold myself after. She was incredibly mature and determined and was far too spectacular for me to articulate. She hated the pink ribbons and she never wore a wig, I think she didn’t ever want to be defined by what she knew was going to separate us. She would want to be remembered for the punk band she started, the amazing journalist she was, and the photographs she took. I hope everyday I carry on her legacy because she deserves nothing but the upmost respect and admiration.