Mothers day isn’t so hard. Because every day is hard with this loss.
Whether you’ve lost a mother figure, or have lost a precious pregnancy, baby or child you’ve raised, blood or not, every day that you wake up without that brilliant being in your life is hard. This day does not change that heartache.
This day just pushes that loss to the forefront a little more abruptly. Reminds you to appreciate what you have left. Encourages those who may not normally reach out to try. And makes you suffer a little bit more then you already have each day by watching those that have whole families not appreciate what they have. Thank you so much to those that do. It’s helpful.
I don’t want gifts. I want my family next to me. All of them. The missing one too. I’ve always been that way though. It hasn’t really changed. But even with my non-codependency to gifts and attention on Mother’s Day, once you spend one Mother’s Day carrying your dying child around who can’t walk, and watching her wilt away slowly into the night, and knowing any day that this brilliant being could die, they’re never the same. That was a real bad Mother’s Day. This is nothing. It’s like white noise. Deafening. All of it.
At least she has the comfort of her peace on this Mother’s Day. She will suffer no more. We do. But at least she won’t. She suffered enough for all of us. Holidays didn’t give her reprieve. She has one finally. That’s my Mother’s Day present. It’s all I will ever need. Ever. Thank you.
Mothers Day, May 8th 2016