We speak to three women who lost their mothers as they reveal the lessons and legacies they left behind
We hear the life lessons from never giving up to loving unconditionally
MOTHER'S day is a happy affair for most, but can bring back sad memories for some people who have lost their mother.
From never giving up to loving unconditionally, we find out what life lessons three women received from their mothers before they passed away.
'She taught me never to give up'
Caitlin Bruce, 22, lives in Haddington, East Lothian, with dad Alastair, 63, brother Ruairidh, 20, and sister Riona, 18.
“One week after my mum’s funeral, I taught my first music lesson in front of 20 teenagers. Concentrating on the class numbed my grief, but back home 30 minutes later I sat on my bed and wept.
I’d been midway through my teaching degree in November 2014 when dad broke the news that my mum Elaine, 54, was going to die.Until then we’d clung to the hope that a hysterectomy would have removed the cervical cancer she’d been diagnosed with earlier that month, but then scans revealed she had secondary colorectal cancer.
My mum was the centre of everything, and being a teenager I’d naively assumed she’d get better. I hadn’t considered she wouldn’t be there to see me graduate or celebrate my 21st birthday.
When my brother Ruairidh and sister Riona and I visited her in hospital, hours after consultants told her there was nothing they could do, we burst into tears. Mum told us that she felt no reason to feel sad – she’d had a good life and no regrets. I couldn’t believe how calmly she took it.
In fact, I only saw mum upset once. It was four weeks later as we were sitting in the hospice lounge and her swollen legs stopped her from walking. We were both in tears as we hugged each other, and she apologised later. That was typical of Mum.
My mum was the centre of everything
Caitlin on how much she loved her mum
Knowing she wouldn’t be around for long, I wanted to ditch my course and spend every moment with her. But she wouldn’t hear of it and told me I needed to carry on.
She insisted that knowing I was trying to achieve my dream was worth far more then feeling helpless, unable to save her. Even in her final days, before she died on February 28, 2015, Mum willed me to continue working towards my childhood ambition of becoming a teacher.
A huge music lover and fiddle player, she was always the one who had taken me to endless music lessons.
She always told me it was so important to follow your dreams, just as she had, as you’d never regret it. Her dream had been to find her soulmate, have a family and always be surrounded by lots of friends.
It might sound simple, but it was everything she wanted – and she smashed it.
So in those weeks after her death when I wanted to sink my face into my pillow and cry, I buried my head in textbooks instead. I knew Mum would have been disappointed if I quit.
Although my first teaching placement came at a time of excruciating emotional pain, working towards my goal soon became my coping mechanism. When I finally graduated on July 4, 2017, I knew how proud she would have been.
It’s three years since Mum passed away, and her life lessons taught me how to deal with her death. She believed that family matters most and would encourage us to talk about our feelings over a roast or home-made risotto.
Mum told us that she felt no reason to feel sad – she’d had a good life and no regrets
Caitlin on how her mum reacted to her diagnosis
It’s something we still do together. I also kept working hard and am now a qualified music teacher. Whenever I have happy moments in class, like watching a young child master something, I can see Mum smiling in my mind.
Before she became ill, Mum always said she wanted to be cremated, but in the end chose a burial because she knew we’d want a place to visit her. So this Mother’s Day, I’m going to her grave and I’ll make sure I thank her for not letting me give up.”
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'My mum showed me how to love unconditionally, and my stepmum helped me realise the importance of acceptance'
Julie Simpson, 37, is a warrant officer class 1 in the British Army and lives with her partner Pete, 38, in Aldershot, Hampshire.
“The first time I met my stepmum Liz, I glowered as she stood on our doorstep, before turning on my heel and leaving her outside in the hammering rain.
I was 15 and hated the idea that my dad George, now 60, had a girlfriend, so spent most of my time ignoring or glaring at her. If I picked up the phone when Liz called, I’d slam it back down.
Looking back, I can’t believe I was so mean, but I was still grieving for my mum Maureen, who had died aged 32 from an asthma attack at home two years earlier, in August 1993.
When it happened, I remember being collected from school with my siblings Boyd, then 15, Sarah, seven, and Patrick, five, and taken to our gran’s, where dad broke the devastating news to us.
Mum was the one who had taught us strict manners and respect for our elders, yet was softly reassuring, and we all knew she loved us very much.
Mum was the one who had taught us strict manners and respect for our elders
Julie on the life lessons she was taught
I have such happy memories of going to summer fêtes as a family, baking cakes, playing freely in parks and feeling really safe and well looked after at home.
Mum gave us a strong family foundation because we knew we were unconditionally loved and had a perfect balance of rules, freedom and fun.
The day she died, everything went dark. I took over the household duties and looking after my siblings. It was tough and I missed Mum terribly.
But I also thought we were fine, so when Liz, now 53, came into our lives I made my feelings clear – we didn’t need her. Thankfully, she took my snide comments and eye rolls in her stride.
The day our relationship changed was when I was 16 and got drunk on cheap wine with my friends.
Dad was away with work so when I came home, rather than scream and shout, Liz put me to bed and stayed with me all night. It was the first time in years I felt like I was a daughter again. Someone was looking after me.
After that, I saw Liz in a different light. She wasn’t trying to replace Mum, she just wanted to be part of our lives.
I realised that taking on my dad with his four kids, as well as looking after two of her own in her early 30s, was a huge responsibility.
She told me the key was patience, and to know when to listen and how to set boundaries
Julie on her stepmum's relationship advice
Then when Liz and Dad married in October 1998, we could see that he was genuinely happy.
I was delighted too, and it says a lot that all my mum’s family also think the world of her.
Four years ago when I met my partner Pete, I called Liz for advice because he shares custody of his son Ethan, nine.
She told me the key was patience, and to know when to listen and how to set boundaries – and to just enjoy my time with Ethan. And she was right, as we have a wonderful relationship.
Sometimes people tell me I look like my mum and have the same laugh as her.
It feels good to still have some connection as my memories of her are fading.
Now Ethan is in my life, I try to create the same balance of love, fun and respect for him that she did for us. I love baking with him, but also talking about things like manners.
I’ll always miss Mum, but if I could have hand-picked my stepmum it would have been Liz. I feel lucky to have had both women in my life.”
'She showed me I had the strength and skills to be a great young mum'
Colleen Rattigan, 32, works for the police and lives in Corby, Northamptonshire, with children Phoebe, seven, and Finn, two.
"Watching my mum Julie cradle my baby daughter, I couldn’t help but cry.
As she stroked Phoebe’s cheeks, her unconditional love was so clear. I’d felt overwhelmed with responsibility, but right then I knew Phoebe would always be cared for – because she had Mum in her life.
My mother was driven and determined, yet also enjoyed painting her nails and partying – something I inherited. She was so thrilled when I told her my then-partner Darren and I were expecting a baby and helped me prepare for motherhood.
She bought Babygros, assured me I’d cope with labour, and insisted I had all the skills and strength to be a great young mum.
Mum had a knack of always knowing the right words to say at the right time.
My mother was driven and determined, yet also enjoyed painting her nails and partying
Colleen on her mum's personality
I remember starting university on my 18th birthday and, knowing how upset I was at leaving family and friends, she made a big deal of how brilliant my halls of residence were and how they would be the gateway to bringing new friends into my life.
When Phoebe arrived on May 9, 2010, when I was 24, Mum was first to visit.
She was a godsend when Darren returned to work. She’d been getting backache for a couple of months by that point and when she finally saw her GP in mid-June, he sent her for a scan that day.
Hours later, I was at my parents’ house and my dad Danny, now 61, told me with a crack in his voice that Mum had terminal lung cancer. She had two weeks to live without treatment or a few months with chemotherapy.
When I found her in the garden I burst into tears. How would I live without her? As I cried, she held my hands and wept. But after that she stayed positive.
Darren, friends and family looked after Phoebe so I could care for Mum during her chemo, and she spent time holding her grandaughter, soaking up every second they had together.
It was so hard knowing my mother would never see her grow up and Phoebe would never know her.
Chemotherapy made Mum weak and she lost her hair. Then one day in early September we were having lunch, and suddenly she stopped making any sense.
Mum’s bravery taught me no matter what we face, we are all far stronger than we know
Colleen on her mum's bravery
The next day, the doctor visited and told us the cancer had spread to her brain. Just days later, on September 12, 2010, Mum passed away surrounded by family.
I remember going home and looking at Phoebe, just four months old, and being terrified at being a mum without my own mum. I hadn’t had time to learn from her how to do it properly.
My grief impacted on my relationship with Darren and we split up when Phoebe was a baby, but stayed friends.
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Being a single parent meant although I missed Mum desperately, there wasn’t time to dwell on her absence.
I filled our days with activities and loved making Phoebe laugh by dancing around the room, like Mum had done with me. I also used her phrases, such as ‘It’s time to climb up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire’ at bedtime.
Three years after Mum’s passing I met Sean, and by summer 2015 I was expecting again.
During my pregnancy, I longed for her to be there to tell me everything would be OK, and when Finn was born the following June I would have given anything for her to have had five minutes with him.
Sadly, I recently separated from Finn’s dad, which means life as a single mum again is testing at times. But Mum’s bravery taught me no matter what we face, we are all far stronger than we know.”