I don’t like Mother’s Day.
For some reason it causes my heart to become paralyzed with conflicted emotions and unarticulated thoughts. It isn’t as simple as when I was a child. I remember, as a child, pulling out my grandmother’s toast and tea set from her china cabinet and first, with the help of my brother, preparing breakfast-in-bed for my mom, then taking breakfast upstairs to my grandmother’s room. A simple act for the women who carried me though life, taught me grace and strength.
Now, I am a mother.
In my catatonic state I am even having trouble knowing how to unpack that sentence. Motherhood has been the greatest challenge of my life, or series of challenges I should say. It has given me the greatest joy as well as the deepest heartache I have ever known (and we are only 8 years in). It is a great privilege and a great responsibility. I cherish these years, all the while looking forward to full nights of sleep, eating a meal without someone touching me and going to the bathroom…alone. Today, I give a salute to all the women out there in the trenches with me and I honour those women who have gone before us.
But I also know that for many women, Mother’s day is filled with grief and I don’t know what to say to you. You long to be in the trenches and yet, your time has not come. You’re right – you have nothing to prove your motherhood. You don’t receive a flower, the blessing is not given to you and yet, your heart aches. I grieve with you.
And then there are those for whom their mother is not here to give a blessing to.
This is the first mother’s day without her.
We didn’t call her to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day, we didn’t send flowers or cards, we didn’t even talk about her, not a word was uttered. But I know we both thought about her, unsure of what to say or how to grieve. We grieve.
Perhaps one day, I will be able to articulate my grief but until then, it remains an integral part of the kaleidoscope of life – constantly changing with the shifting light and twists and turns of life. This I can say however, she leaves a great legacy – his name is Ben. For this, I am eternally grateful.
I still can’t believe she is gone.