Here we go again. Another Mother’s Day without my mother.
My thoughts about this day haven’t changed much since last year, really. So if you want to know how I feel, go here and skip the rest.
This stuff takes awhile. I know it does. But it’s funny how Mother’s Day is the one that gets me the most. Not Christmas. Not even her birthday. But this day. Tears are right there, hovering just below.
There is so much we never said. So so much she has missed since she passed. So much time and space and memories of just being annoyed with her a lot of the time – and regretting that. But also knowing she deserved it sometimes too. And then being frustrated with her for not expressing herself better and really knowing how to reach everyone she loved.
I miss her. And they miss her. And it’s just one damn big hole left behind on days like these.
I try to redirect my feelings, of course.
We should be celebrating every mother and all that they do. And I’m a mom. So. Yay. And this day is for my children to remember their mother, so I am here to hand out love and hugs and so many “thank yous” as needed for sure.
But Mother’s Day is still MY mother’s day. And without her around, well, let’s just get through this day I think…
My mother is a poem
I’ll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.