This is my first Mother's Day without you.
How surreal this all seems. Even though I'm a momma now, it's funny how Mother's Day doesn't feel the same without you--without my mom. I've spent years making this day about you and now, now what do I do?
When I allow myself to really sit long and feel my feelings, I feel so alone. I've wanted to call you so many times. To tell you how I messed up so bad and to get your comforting words and advice. To share the funny things Pax says and to brag about what a good reader M.E. is and how kind she is to her friends at school.
Ballet recitals. New cars. Orange fingernail polish.
So many times I catch myself thinking, "My mom would love this" or "I wish my mom was here."
I feel so alone. A motherless daughter.
Mother's Day is just another reminder that I won't be calling you and I won't send you a card.
I am motherless.
The taste of those words on my lips is bitter gall. I want this grief to end. I keep expecting it to get easier but it just gets. more. real.
I am motherless.
Though it hurts and breaks, I refuse to be defeated by this truth. If I am to move forward, I can only do so holding firm to the truth that all things work together for my good--even this pain and grief.
This Mother's Day I just wanted to say thank you for mothering me.
- Thank you for the sleepless nights you spent feeding me, rocking me, waiting up for me, and fighting for me.
- Thank you for giving me the grace to try on different personas so I could figure out who I am and who I am not (and let's breathe a collective sigh of relief I am not orange-haired, rebellious Reagan).
- Thank you for making our house a home so homey all my friends wanted to be there.
- Thank you for letting me make mistakes and feel the consequences of those mistakes.
- Thank you for NEVER seeing me as the sum total of my mistakes. Your faith in me was often my strength.
- Thank you for insisting I call my elders Mr./Mrs./Ms.
- Thank you for being there--when I needed to talk, when I needed space, when I needed to vent, when I needed to cry, when I needed a hug, when I needed nothing--thank you for being there.
- Thank you for squeezing my hand as you took your last breath--for that last bit of reassurance that everything was going to be okay ... even me.
- Thank you for showing me how to be a mom.
Sacrificial. Hopeful. Persistent. Enduring. Graceful. Merciful. Just. Humorous. Kind. Loving.
You displayed all these traits.
On Sunday morning, those sweet children will bound into my room with breakfast and a plan to head to the hills. The will shower me with sticky mouth kisses and jam hand hugs and gifts they made out of stuff they found. I will smile and delight in the ways they bless me. In this way, I hope you are blessed. I am the mom and wife and woman I am because of who you were.
I am mother's daughter.