The bright morning light awakens a new day. I am standing in the kitchen, heavy hearted, facing the calendar. With a long deep cleansing breath, I flip the calendar from April to May. The date stares out at me as if it had a spotlight on it. 26 years ago I celebrated my last Mother’s Day with my mom.
Since then, I have spent years blurring out the day by taking extra shifts at work, or by many other self-made distractions. It was just another painful reminder that my mom was not here.
Mother’s Day became a new mixed bag of emotions when I became a mom. One half of me craved the joy of celebrating with my girls, and the other half still wanted my mommy. How can I miss someone I barely knew?
I posed the question to my social media circle whose community embraced me. The virtual loving support I received from cyberspace broke the isolating wall that surrounded my heart since I was ten years old. Many other motherless moms made themselves known. We continually keep in contact, especially when anniversaries and Mother’s Day approaches.
The feeling of belonging made me more empowered to do more things positive to celebrate my mother, instead of grieving all the time. She loved purses. I remember playing with her boxes of purses while she napped post-chemotherapy. My girls now play with mine. Every weekday afternoon I watch The Young and The Restless (her favourite show). It makes me feel connected to her.
I see my oldest daughter looking at my childhood album. I sit beside her and tell her stories of when I was younger. She asks questions about my mom. I find myself smiling when I share reflections of her grandma. My mom was a school teacher. Subsequently, I had to do homework right away and never leave it to the last minute. My daughter closes the book and goes to play with her dolls.
Feeling lighter, I move on with the morning activities. I realize that I need to share with both my daughters their grandma. Just the past five minutes remind me that there were good times to cherish. I spent years in anger that she died. I still get emotional at the injustice. It never changes anything. She is still gone.
I owe it to my children to cherish my time with them, because life is too fragile. The passion to repair my story by writing new chapters motivates me to be the mom I don’t have anymore. That is the best gift I can give myself this Mother’s Day.
Wishing you the best wishes and dreams this Mother’s Day and every day.