My mom died 12 years ago, when I was 22. Her death followed an illness of several years. While it wasn’t altogether unexpected, losing my mom was still the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to deal with.
Four or five years ago, if you’d asked me if things had gotten easier with the passage of time, I would have said yes. Of course the first few days and weeks were excruciating, and the first year was very difficult...but over time, although I always missed her terribly, my heart began to heal.
When our girls were born, of course I experienced a plethora of emotions, as any new mom surely does. What I didn’t know to expect, though, was how my heart would almost physically ache at times for my own mother.
I hurt for three generations of women…
…my mom, who will never hold her grandchildren, or see her daughter as she once was herself…
…my girls, who will never know their grandmother, will never hear her laugh or sit in her lap and hear stories about their own mom…
…and for me.
Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could share their silly anecdotes with her, knowing they would be the light of her life…or that I don’t wish I could ask her advice, or know what I did at their age.
And so, for that reason, Mother’s Day is bittersweet.
It’s definitely more sweet than bitter…as I have my precious babies to hold, and through whom I can occasionally glimpse my own mom…but what I wouldn’t give to be able to share it with her here on earth.
I write this post not to garner sympathy, but as what I hope will be a tiny reminder to cherish those important in our lives.
And, just as important, I write this as a reminder to take care of ourselves. For the sake of our own sons and daughters, we must put ourselves on the priority list.
I’m eating (mostly) right and exercising (mostly) regularly, and I’m taking time to schedule annual doctor visits…
…as I hope that when my girls are my age, when they will likely have families of their own, that Mother’s Day will be nothing but sweet for them.