Mother's Day

It has been a year and four months since my mother died. In this time I have learned that though I actually can move on, and I can handle my life, I will always, no matter how many people are in the room, feel a loneliness, an emptiness, because I can never again call my mother and ask her advice, rehash the day's events or run something by her. I have learned that I will never enjoy a cup of coffee again as much as I did when laughing over one with her. It is exactly as William Wordsworth wrote and which, as a young and naive college student, I thought I understood but could only guess at:

The rainbow comes and goes,	10
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;	15
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.

I have learned that grief is not linear, but fluid. It does not progress from stage to stage, from a beginning to an end, to a moment of understanding. There are days when I feel as though I am healing, that I am reaching a state of peace and my grief comes unbidden from a depth I did not know I possessed. The finality of it hits me all over again. The sweetness of my mother's soul comes back to me. The craziness of her sense of humor. The absolute depths of her love for my children. How she helped me through every crisis of my life. Gone. How can it be?

My mother and I used to have these crazy adventures. Actually we would just go out, maybe to an auction, or shopping, or to this inn we loved. But they always turned into crazy adventures. We started calling ourselves Lucy and Ethel because of the hijinks we would find ourselves in, our sides hurting from laughing so much. Sometimes I can actually smile when I think of it.

Tomorrow when people are taking their moms out for brunch and dinner, buying them flowers, showering them with love, I am going to be thinking of the strong beautiful woman I was so very blessed to have as my mother. God, keep her close, and bless her. I love her dearly.

This one's for you, Mom

A Mother’s Love's A Blessing

An Irish boy was leaving

Leaving his native home

Crossing the broad Atlantic

Once more he wished to roam

And as he was leaving his mother

Who was standing at the quay

She threw her arms around his waist

And this to him did say

A mother's love's a blessing

No matter where you roam

Keep her while she's living

You'll miss her when she's gone

Love her as in childhood

Though feeble old and grey

For you'll never miss your mother's love

Till she's buried beneath the clay

And as the years grow older

I'll settle down in life

And choose a nice young colleen

And take her for my wife

And as the babies grow older

And climb around my knee

I'll teach them the very same lesson

That my mother thought to me

A mother's love's a blessing

No matter where you roam

Keep her while she's living

You'll miss her when she's gone

Love her as in childhood

Though feeble old and grey

For you'll never miss your mother's love

Till she's buried beneath the clay

Happy Birthday to Me

My mother didn't think it was a proper birthday celebration without balloons. She insisted for everyone of her grandchildren's birthdays that my sister and I get balloons, and ditto for my daughter Lily's "Gotcha Day." Birthdays were important to my mother and that is why, despite the fact that I made it through her one year anniversary strong and without fuss, I am finding it hard to keep a dry eye today. It is my birthday. And despite the fact that there are people who have been kind and given me good wishes, it just doesn't feel like a real birthday without my mother, the woman who gave birth to me, for whom this day was truly special as only a mother can know.

I am alone. I have to face tragedy alone. I have to carve out happiness alone. I have to celebrate my birthdays alone. Being told "Happy Birthday" just isn't the same when the person for whom it was just as special is no longer with you. Oh, I know I could put some spin on it. I could decide to just be happy. And I have been doing that. I have been working hard at it. But today, I am sad. It is just too much for me. My grief is a truly physical burden which I am carrying around with me today until I can purge it in a bathtub soak and cry.