I know your pain and I understand. Mother’s Day is such a tough day for those who are missing the one person you never expected you’d have to live without. I know I wasn’t ready to be without my mom.
I wish I could reach out and hug you so tight and let you know you aren’t alone. I see you. I feel your heartbreak. I feel your anger and sadness. I get it.
I know it all too well. The anxiety that comes as the date on the calendar draws near. It’s a slow build up you may not even realize is happening, but your heart knows. You might feel a little bit sad, a little bit irritated, on edge. Not quite right. And you look at the date and realize “oh, I’m not ready”.
When you lose your mom, nothing is ever the same. I was lucky. My mom did so much for me. She laughed with me, did things with me, gave me space to grow, and loved me. She loved me through the tough stuff – when I was a bit of a brat and gave her attitude and a hard time. She loved me when I pretended I didn’t really need her. She loved me like nobody else on this planet ever will. That’s what moms do. It’s what I miss the most.
After close to thirty years for me, the memories start to fade. I struggle to remember her laugh, her voice, her face. There have been too many Mother’s Days without her.
Mother’s Day is always a reminder of what was lost. It’s hard to see the Mother/Daughter interactions in the commercials on TV. It’s hard to watch others prepare for the day. I remember in the early days thinking, “Please don’t ask me what I’m doing for mom for mothers day. Please just don’t ask. I don’t want to have to say the words”. It’s harder still to listen to someone complain about how they HAVE to do something with their mom. Like it’s such a chore or inconvenience. What I would give to have that “burden” back.
There is no escaping the Mother’s Day advertising. It’s everywhere you look on TV and in every store window.
For me, the pain has subsided. It’s been nearly 30 years. But for those whose pain is so new, so raw and fresh, this day is brutally hard. It’s tough if you have kids that want to make the day about you, and all you can think of is your loss and how broken you feel. I get you. And I promise, it gets so much easier. The pain eases. The day becomes more of a celebration than heart break. Trust me.
I miss my mom every day. Maybe not with tears, or sadness, but a feeling deep inside. My heart will always miss her. I wouldn’t be here without my mother. She taught me so much. Instilled in me the importance of family, love and respect, fun and a love of music and gardening and garage sales.
So that’s what I will remember and celebrate.
I have my three kids, and no matter what they do, they will make my Mother’s Day a memorable one. Knowing that they are healthy and happy and that they still love spending time with me is all that I need. There is no greater feeling in the world.
My kids are part of her. For that I am grateful.
To the motherless daughters on Mother’s Day – you are not alone. You are not forgotten. You are loved from up above.
Do something special for yourself. Do something that reminds you of your mom and what she loved to do. I usually plant something that reminds me of my mom. This year it’s going to be a Pussy Willow.
Don’t ever stop celebrating all that your mom meant to you. Don’t ever stop talking about her or sharing her stories. You are the heartbeat of your mother. You are special and one of a kind.
I saw something online once that said “Be the best of those you lost” – and I love that. So I will. I will continue my mom’s love of life and laughter and music and fun. I will remember the best of her and try to be that. Do that for yourself. Whatever was the best of your mom – be that, do that, celebrate that.
Yes, it is always going to be a tough day – but here’s wishing you a happy Mother’s Day.