I have a confession to make….I hate Mother’s Day. It is a painful neon reminder that my Mom is no longer here with me. You may think I am ridiculous to have developed a dread for this day, considering I am the mother of three daughters. But I have. Since 2003, when the first Mother’s Day rolled around after Mom went to be with Jesus, I found myself in a melancholy mood the entire week before that much celebrated day. I contemplated faking a headache or jumping in the car and escaping to a chair on the beach complete with umbrella and sunglasses in solitude while I tried NOT to remember the empty place she had left. But I clenched my teeth, stuck out my chin and made it through the day. I hugged my girls, smiled at their cards and thanked them and my husband for a nice lunch. Inside I cried. I cried in complete selfishness because to be quite honest, “I wanted my Mommy!” Each year, I try to ignore the fact that Mother’s Day continues to roll around every May, I don’t remind the girls and I don’t mention it to Lynn. I spend those days wishing more than ever that Mom was here, because I promise I would make the biggest, fattest, hairiest deal over her! I wanted to grow old with her. I wanted to watch her with my girls, laughing and making simple memories over silly jokes as she painted their fingernails. I wanted her to see how Hannah has grown into this strong, opinionated young woman, who looks a lot like her and has the same wild, curly, almost black hair. I wanted her to hear Emilie play her instruments, laugh with her about random things and see how she has grown into a grounded young woman who is making big plans for her future. I wanted her to know Molly and even more, I wanted Molly to know her Nana. I think Molly looks the most like her and Mom would have found so much joy in her funny sense of humor and her zest for life. The big empty place she left is still quite evident at every event and every momentous moment we experience.
Tomorrow is the day. The day I am reminded all day long that my Mom is gone and how I missed so many opportunities to just sit and be with her. We had such good conversations and I miss that. My hearts aches and tears spill down my face just to see her and hear her voice one more time. Tomorrow I will hug my girls, smile at their cards and I will thank my husband for a nice lunch, but inside I will be crying.