Sunday, May 8, 2016

To the Motherless on Mother’s Day


                Today isn’t very different for me than any other day because my mother is still not here. A date on the calendar doesn’t change that fact, not even Mother’s Day. The reminder of her absence is only magnified because everywhere I turn, images of people and their moms flood social media, television, almost everywhere… people celebrating, just as they should do. Just as I would do, if mine were still here.

 

                My mom was sick for quite some time before she died and although I knew the outcome of her recovering wasn’t favorable, it took a while for me to accept this truth. It’s as if my heart simply couldn’t accept the reality my brain had grown to understand. That my mom would in fact, die, leaving me motherless. In the months preceding her death, I spent so much time talking to her, taking care of her, never wanting to be anywhere else, even when I knew my body and mind were so exhausted by the constant vigilance over her. I would remind her how much I loved her even when she began to forget that I was her daughter, her Jenny, her Junebug, as she always called me. I talked to her every single day, sitting by her hospital bed, reminding her of who she was, of who I was and all she meant to me. In those final days it brought me a little peace knowing I had had time to say goodbye. And I think in her final act of love for me, she chose to die when I wasn’t present as if she knew seeing her take her last breath would indeed have been too much for me to bear.

 

                 I thought about all the things she would miss, mainly Mattie’s milestones. His first day of his senior year, prom, graduation, his first day of college, his wedding day, the birth of his children and every other little or big thing in between those days. All the things my mom would have otherwise been front and center for. These things filled me with sadness because she should be there. She was supposed to be there. That was the plan. But I soon realized my sadness was not so much for Mattie because I knew he would be okay. After all, he still had me and I was HIS mom. It was me that I was so sad for. It was me that my own heart broke for. Because it was me that still needed her. It was me that still wanted her. She was always the glue that kept me together, always the one who made me feel okay. Each and every day I still want to call her, tell her about my day, ask her advice, bitch about something, talk about anything and everything and I’m heartbroken every time I realize I can’t. Her number is still in my phone even though it has long since been disconnected. I still look at the screen that is labeled “MOM” wondering who would answer if I dared to dial the numbers. It wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t be her.

 

                I know I am not the only one who has ever lost their mother. There are amazing women in my very own circle that have lost their Moms. We are a sisterhood of sorts, an army of women bonded by a loss that is unfathomable by most. Their pain is not greater than mine nor is their pain less than mine. It’s merely different. We are each grieving perhaps the greatest loss of our lives and somehow we’ve managed to survive. Some days are better than others. But one thing I am sure of, life is meant to be lived. It’s what my mother wanted for me and what I’m sure what your mothers wanted for you. I know today will be hard, especially if it’s the first Mother’s Day without her. So do what you must today to get through it. Cry, grieve, take a hot bath, drink a nice glass of Malbec or hang out with your girlfriends. Hug your children tight and celebrate your love for them. Live in the moment. It’s what we should do every day anyway. Whatever you decide to do today, be sure to breathe in and out deeply and just get through it. Get up, get dressed and show up. Be brave and go about your lives. Remember it’s just another day on the calendar. Your mother is all around you today, just as she was yesterday. Just as she will be tomorrow. She’s just not here physically but believe me when I say there is a gaggle of women (I imagine all our moms hanging out together) up in heaven looking down on us…telling us, inspiring us, believing in us, willing us to move forward through the pain. Don’t focus on the day. Focus on the life. The life she led. The life she wanted you to lead. Remember the stories, share the memories and be sure to talk to her. She is still there. She is as much a part of you as she ever was. Mother’s Day will never be the same again, I know. The pain will never go away, no matter how much time passes but a mother’s love is unending, even in death. This much I know to be true. So if nothing else, today, celebrate you! Celebrate the wonderful, amazing person you are, the person your mother raised.

 

Happy Mother’s Day. My you all be filled with love and peace today and always.

 

  Jenny  xoxo

 

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