Motherless Mother’s Day. I know, it sounds gross. It is true. I have no mother here to celebrate with. The truth is that I am ok. I became a mother. I have 3 kids that have all made me something and will surprise me with their gift of love tomorrow. I am grateful for that. It is cute and sweet even if it is forced on them by their teacher. Kidding, they are truly excited and have been talking about it all week.
I tried for many years to continue to honor my mother and myself on the “special” day. But, it started to feel like a task. My mother is gone. I can speak to her in prayer and anytime I truly think of her she is here with me. I feel her with me now. She presses her energy against me that I call it a spiritual hug. I cannot feel the same way if I visit her grave. I feel cold there now kind of like it only marks the death and not the life. I used to take myself out on Mother’s Day. I’d go out with my friends and celebrate it, but that started to feel odd too. Was it really a Mother’s Day, or just another day hanging out with friends?
I find that Mother’s Day seems to represent this day that should be extra special and it has the same 24 hours just like the day before and after. It comes with these expectations such as the commercials of bouquets of flowers and huge brunches. The dad’s barbeque while mom’s sip on mimosa’s. The kids and dad give mom diamonds because they care so much. How else do you cap off a spa day but with a diamond? I have never had that day. Nor did my mother.
But, I do remember a Mother’s Day where I made my mom some breakfast in bed. I gave her my gift I had made at school. I think I was about 10. I sat on the side of her bed and was so excited. I can only imagine my mom was showing any signs of happiness because I had tried so hard. If I had realized how hard motherhood was I would have put a shot of vodka in her orange juice and gave her a pedicure. I would have helped more whined less. I would have looked at her with wonder and not the fun spoiler I later believed she was and then couldn’t rectify that lack of closeness by her death.
I don’t think I ever told my mother all the good things. I do recall one of the best last conversations with her that I had. It was months before her death. It was as honest as I could have ever mustered the courage to talk to her about. I spoke to her plainly about her dying but I know I focused on how it would affect me the one that would be living. I was 18 and was selfish. But, my mom said, you have never ever talked like this before to me. I think she was glad I brought it up. It sounds crazy now, but with all the two years of illness and then death did not bring out a constant conversation about it. Cancer was like a whisper. It stayed in our home like an elephant in the corner of every room. The point is that I didn’t get that in that conversation I should have told my mom more plainly that I was going to miss her, I loved her and that it was unfair for her and me. She was a good mom. She took care of us, fed and clothed us. She worked hard. She was funny. She was a good friend and wife. All I can do is tell her now.
If I could plan that special day with her I would. I’d spike the punch. I’d take her out for a spa day. I’d go for a lovely meal. I’d make mimosa’s until we giggled and couldn’t stop. I’d present you with diamond earrings. I’d ask you if this was the best day ever. You’d say yes and tell me that you loved me more then my brothers, but don’t tell them so their feelings weren’t hurt. I’d beam and then we’d laugh. You’d really have loved it. I’d really would have beamed.
So, the point is that I’m ok. She knows. So, for this Mother’s Day I will truly feed off my kids excitement . I will not be depressed or think they should know mom needs a splash of vodka in the juice or coffee or whatever they make me. I will treasure them in their moment. I will breathe a sigh of relief that I am with them and they are with me. The day is completely what I make of it!
Happy Mother’s Day for the mother’s out there or to the one that had you!