Mother's Day 2010

I've been trying to swallow the emotions. I have been able to avoid most thoughts, feelings, plans, and sentiments. But it caught up to me this morning. I saw my little five-year-old daughter standing in the doorway of her Kindergarten class with a blue tissue-wrapped treasure in her hands, complete with an envelope covered with hearts and the word 'MOM', her eyes bright with the joy of giving and the pride of creating this special gift just for her Mommy. My heart filled with a dozen emotions and memories.

I was able to keep it together until we got into the house. As she was bouncing up and down, chanting, "Open it, Mommy! Open it!" I was getting the Kleenex. I sat her down and explained to her that I loved the gift and I was so happy she had made it for me, but that Mommy was a little sad. I missed my own Mommy.

I think about a little girl who was six, with an older brother that had just turned eight, and their baby sister who was one. The kids who must have lit up when their Mom came in the door, who picked such beautiful dandelions for her, who felt so special when she spent time with them. And then my heart breaks for those three kids whose Mom didn't come home anymore, who wasn't able to participate in their lives, or even express her love for her three kids. Three kids with endless belief that Mommy would get better soon and come home. Three kids with enough faith to keep praying for all those years that she would be healed. Three kids who have spent so much time being so very, very sad. Three children who have tried to understand why God would take a Mom away from them and how to carry on with Him and without her.

It is often said that becoming a mom could fill that void or that perhaps my mother-in-law or step-mother could be a suitable substitute. I find those relationships are unique and individual and don't fit into the mom shaped hole I have in my heart. I also find they magnify the pain of loss I feel; not by anything they say or do, of course. I see my children loving their grandmas and I'm reminded they have never known their "Grandma in Heaven". I see my husband's siblings and my step-siblings loving their Mom, telling her how much they appreciate everything she's done for them and how she's stood by them all these years through every situation, and I'm reminded I haven't had that. I sit in church and hear mothers being honored, mothers who may already be grandmothers or even great-grandmothers, and I think of my Mom's life being nearly over at age 28, because what she did for the next 16 years can hardly be called living. She hardly had time to be a Mom, never mind watching the generations that would follow in her footsteps.

I haven't found a way to disengage my present from my past; I feel like it's still current, like it continues to define who I am, how I see the world, and how I participate in life. As for this weekend, I don't know if I should opt out of the Mother's Day activities (my first choice by far) or do what I do every year: grin and bear it and have people wonder why I'm so irritable.