I am the mother of two beautiful daughters and, for the last thirteen years, the first Sunday in May has always been about me. To the point of self-absorbed selfishness at times. This year is different. This year all I can think about is how I have to celebrate without my own mother. Who knew I’d have a harder time with this silly little non-holiday than I did with Christmas? But that’s the reality as it looks from where I sit.
I miss my Mom every day. I combat the emptiness by finding ways to talk about her, it keeps her close and keeps her part of everyday life for those who loved her – especially my kids. Some days are harder than others. Mother’s Day is one of those days. This year, when my husband asked what I wanted to do, all I could think of was to talk to her one more time, or see her smile at me with the love I always took for granted shining from her eyes.
I know she’s still with me, in all the ethereal ways possible, but I’m still sad and I’m still bitter because that is little comfort on days like today. It isn’t the same. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.