Mother’s Day Without My Mom

This is my eleventh Mother’s Day without my Mom. I wish I could say this one is easier than the previous ten, but it’s really not. Losing your mother isn’t something you “get over”. You just don’t. I miss my Mom just as much now as I did in 2005 when she passed away suddenly from a brain aneurism. Every day there are new things I want to share with her, so many important things going on in the world I want to talk with her about, and things I want her to know about me and her wonderful grandson who is now an Army soldier. I can’t do any of those things and it sucks. It really, really sucks.

Mother’s Day is particularly hard because I am bombarded everywhere I go with reminders that Mother’s Day is this Sunday. The cashier at the grocery store who feels compelled to make small talk asks me, “have any plans for Mother’s Day?” I realize an honest reply would be incredibly awkward so I say, “Oh I don’t know what I’m going to do yet”, when really my thought was “I’m trying desperately to forget that this day is here again so soon, and I can’t believe it still hurts this much.”

During the thirty-eight years that I spent with my Mom, I never gave her a Mother’s Day gift truly worthy of my level of appreciation for her. When she passed I asked my Stepfather repeatedly, “Did she know how much I loved her? Did she know how much she meant to me?” to which he repeatedly replied “I don’t have any doubt at all that she did.” I felt guilty that I didn’t thank her more, and tell her more that her continual sacrifices for me when I needed her were appreciated beyond what I could put into words, and that her friendship in my adult years was more valuable than any friendship I’ve ever had.

My Mom and I had a really rough period, where my anger led to many rebellious years. She was the person closest to me so I took all of my anger out on her that I was a child of divorce, I was forced to move to a state really far from home and everyone was strange, and as a teenager I was certain my life was ruined forever. That anger continued through to my senior year of high school when I decided I would go to college as far away from home as possible, yet still stay in-state because I couldn’t afford out of state tuition. That irresponsible decision that only hurt me, was meant to hurt her. Those were the most miserable, lonely years of my life. When my Mom surprised me and visited me at that college, ten hours from home, it was then that our relationship began to heal. I was a starving college student, and she took me out to breakfast where I inhaled an entire skillet, a stack of pancakes, and an entire pot of coffee. We laughed, and we opened up. At breakfast she handed me a roll of quarters and said, “is there a laundromat in this town where we can go do your laundry?” To a college student, a roll of quarters was like finding a pot of gold. My eyes were huge, and yes of course there was a laundromat. Again, we sat and laughed together as my laundry was spinning in the dryer. Our laughter was reminiscent of times when we used to laugh and joke with each other in my younger years. I could make my mom laugh so hard with my corny jokes and stories about stupid embarrassing stuff I did. I loved it when I made her laugh. She had this high pitch laugh that filled an entire room, and it was infectious. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. He entire face lit up, and tears would always stream down her face.

As our relationship healed she and I began to trust each other with the pain that was inside of us from the past. I never told her where my rebellion led, although I had a feeling she knew. Talking about those things weren’t going to bring healing. It was only when she told me all of her regrets and I could see the conflict and torment on her face that I could feel the pain lifting from my heart. Many of the self-preserving decisions she made didn’t factor in the pain it would cause me. She miscalculated her life-changing decisions that ultimately changed mine for the worse and I could tell now that she felt immense regret. That regret however, was only realized once she was finally happy. And although I was glad she felt sorry, I was able to enjoy seeing her happy in my new state of mind.

Our friendship didn’t develop overnight and our trust wasn’t restored immediately. It took years. There were many shopping trips together, talks over ice cream sundaes, hikes in the mountains, and road trips spent talking and sharing bags of chocolates. The day she passed away there wasn’t anything I felt like we still needed to talk about. A foolish person told me immediately after her death, “our parents leave us when we no longer need them.” I wanted to punch the lady who said that to me. I’m sure my facial expressions pierced through to her soul, making words unnecessary. I needed my Mom every single day. My son needed her. Her other grandchildren needed her. Her husband needed her. Her other children needed her. Her friends needed her. Her neighbors needed her.

As I think about spending tomorrow without her and trying to decide what I’m going to do instead of cry in bed all day, I think I might write the Mother’s Day card she should have received. I might go to Dairy Queen. As I spend tomorrow with my son who will remember each Mother’s Day after I’m gone, I am reminded that he deserves to have a Mom who laughed at his stories, and ate ice cream and talked about life, and always remembered to be her whole self in each moment. As much as I want to be partially there tomorrow, my sadness isn’t meant to be shared with anyone. As a gift to my Mom, Mother’s Day will be spent being all of me with the people I love who I want so desperately to remember me not for what I regretted in life but for how much life I shared with them. I can see my Mom’s smile of approval at that decision.

I love you Mom. You’re still my best friend. I know you know that.

Love,

Your daughter, who is fighting hard to be everything you wanted her to be.

#MothersDay