Mother's Day has come and nearly gone.
We've gone to church, listened to all the nice things said to the women, eaten our lunch cooked by the men. We had nice naps and soft pretzels made by the daughters. We spent some time with the in-laws, where we came away with gifts from the mom, instead of vice versa. It's been a good day all around.
But tonight, my heart feels a little tired and my eyes feel a little weepy. I'm ending the day thinking about you, Mom.
May 6th came and went last week; seven years that you're gone. I knew the anniversary was coming up but I nearly went through the whole day without remembering! Somehow tonight, the sadness of that fact hits me hard. Of course I want to move on and live life, but I don't ever want to forget -- what kind of person forgets?
Grief is so strange, Mom. Even when I remembered it was May 6th, I could have hardly cried a tear if I'd tried. Today, sitting in church listening to people say lovely things about their mothers, I shed a few tears only when my own daughter stood up and took the mic. Tonight? Tonight I could cry buckets over the weariness of this world and the pain of living and the ache of missing you, Mom.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again -- I'm so glad you could slip away peacefully in your sleep. So glad you didn't have to go through old age or cancer or dementia or pain and suffering. Would that we could all go as easily and effortlessly as you.
But tonight I'm missing you. I miss your smile and your laugh and your voice. I miss your letters and your notes and your emails. I miss all the games you would have played with your grandchildren; the stories you would have read; the treasure hunts you would have made. I miss all the advice you would have given me these past seven years; all the questions you would have answered. I miss all the times when I would have told you things -- big, life changing things and small, unimportant things. I miss the prayers you would have prayed; I miss just knowing you were there.
Life goes on, Mom. Sadness comes and goes, joy ebbs and flows. As long as we're here in this broken world, we'll hold the tension of it all together -- the laughter and the tears, the pain and the healing. At the close of this Mother's Day, it seems fitting to cry the tears and count the blessings, all in the same little space. Because, the truth is, Mom -- there are a lot worse reasons to be crying than the reasons I'm crying tonight.
Thank you for all the good, good memories; for being the kind of Mom who is missed. That is a blessing I don't ever want to forget.