The Temptation to Hate Mother’s Day

 

The truth is that it could be very tempting for me to despise Mother’s Day.

I never thought that I would miss my mother this much. She had so many actual life-and-death scares through the years so I was fully aware that our time was limited. And I knew I’d miss her, but I miss her in ways I didn’t expect.

I was going to tour Lincoln’s preschool and I thought that if my mom was still here, I would’ve picked her up, all dressed up and excited, and taken her with us. She would’ve wanted to see it. And Lincoln would’ve spent the tour holding her hand while I talked and learned about the school.

Or when Brice has a concert or a school picnic or Shining Star week, I think about how if she was here, we would’ve needed to pick her up and arrive extra early and get a seat where she could see. She liked getting to places as the doors opened. I no longer arrive early, I realize now.  I did that for my mom.

Or when I run errands, I think of how she always ran errands with me, and sat in the van with the kids for the quick stops so I didn’t have to drag them in and out. She could always placate them with suckers that she kept stocked in her purse at all times. Even though she never ate suckers. The supply was for these exact moments when her grandbabies needed one.

I think of all these things that happen that I want to tell her. Things that surprise me or make me scared or mad. And sometimes, I end up telling no one else because the only place it seems right to put it is with my mom.

And now, it’s Mother’s Day. If she was here, I would’ve asked what she wanted to eat and I would’ve made that and a bunch of other things she liked. And I’d get her something she’d been wanting or talking about or I’d take her shopping. And it would be days or a week of organizing to make the day special for her. And she did the same thing right back for me. Fittingly, it was our day.

And now, on Mother’s Day, I don’t really have anywhere to put that. The truth is, Mother’s Day can be kind of a shitty day for the motherless among us. It’s a really big reminder of what you don’t have anymore.

I’ve been wracking my brain all week, trying to remember my mom’s last Mother’s Day. And all I remember is being huge pregnant with Lincoln. And my mom in Brice’s room, reading to him from the book “I’ll Love You Forever.”

You know that sappy-ass book?

I went to check on them and found my mom reading through her tears. Tears just rolling right down her face as she read.  Brice didn’t seem to notice and wanted her to keep going. She looked up at me, covered Brice’s ears and said, “I hate this fucking book.”

In case you were wondering where I got my mouth.

And I started to cry (because I was 9 months pregnant, remember) and I went and hugged her and then we laughed. But that’s all I can remember from that Mother’s Day.

I knew it would be her last. I can’t believe that I didn’t try to keep and preserve every single memory, but in truth, I can’t remember what we ate or much of anything.

If there is any moral to this somewhat sad story, it’s that these creatures that we call “mothers” are not ours forever. They will most likely leave this earth before we do. And when they do, you won’t be able to bake them any more cakes or buy them any more necklaces.

So, if you are lucky enough to still have your mom, make her feel special this Mother’s Day. No matter what. Because I guarantee you there will be a time that you wish you still could.

                                                                              I am so close, I may look distant.

                                                                So completely mixed with you, I may look separate.

                                                                            So out in the open, I appear hidden. 

                                                                  So silent, because I am constantly talking to you. 

                                                                                                   -Rumi

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s