Mother’s Day really snuck up on me this year. My calendar has been so full with teacher appreciation week, swim practice, soccer, homework, and spelling words that I somehow forgot about it.
But today, I made a simple phone call to Jeanette to ask her where she was going to church for Mother’s Day and my voice cracked on the words “Mother’s day”. Out of nowhere, I was devastated and unable to hold back my tears as I drove down the freeway. I quickly got off the phone and started to cry. Another Mother’s Day was coming. Another day that I would be forced to celebrate without you.
I’ve grieved selfishly over these past years that my holidays will never look the same. They were so much you – your presence is ingrained in every single Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, birthday. I grieve that my girls won’t remember sharing them with you.
But I didn’t feel that Mother’s Day had been particularly difficult since you’ve been gone. Maybe because I’ve tried to focus on my girls and whatever activities we’ve got going on that Sunday. But for some reason, this year feels different and my heart is already heavy. Photos of friends with their moms are starting to pop up on social media and the girls are coming home with their Mother’s Day gifts. The way I miss you is so real I can almost reach out and touch it.
There are so many things I want to share with you, tell you about, ask your advice. I’ve looked high and low for women to fill that void that you’ve left, but to no avail. Just about every minute of every hour, I wish I could pick up the phone and call you. I have so many questions – about family, about motherhood, about tough decisions – that I just want someone to talk to and I want you. Your mother is the one who will listen to you talk and talk about your kids, your life, your troubles and will never interrupt, or complain, or wish they were talking about themselves. I long for you, for your wisdom, for your encouragement.
If you were here, I’m not sure exactly what I would say. I love you, I miss you, and thank you don’t quite seem to do my feelings justice, but I suppose I would start there. I would ask you more questions and listen more. As a mother, so much of the time we doubt and we worry, and we just want someone to spur us on, to help us where we fail and encourage us in our strengths. You were always that person for me.
So, on this day, my fourth Mother’s Day without you, I wanted to let you know that I still think about you, every day and every hour. I hear your voice in my head, I hear it come out when I talk to my girls. I carry you with me wherever I go.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.