Mother's Day 2011

Mom, smiling.  

It's Mother's Day again.  Last year, coming so soon after Mom's passing, was brutal.  This one is painful in its own way but it doesn't cut quite so deep as last year did.  The anniversary of her death was cold and blustery and I was alone but that was what I wanted.  Today is bright, temperate.  I can see the wind rustle the leaves slightly and this too is okay.  This is a day she would have appreciated.  How clear and blue the sky is.  How chirpy the birds are.

I am sad to admit that I didn't make as much of a fuss over Mother's Day as I should have.  When I was working the night before I'd stop and bring breakfast; something I knew she'd like.  We'd eat together before I went home and went back to bed so I could work again that night.  Mostly I'd remember a card; for the year I was here and she was in Iowa I'm sure I called.  I'd love to be able to call her now.  Find one of those sappy cards that made me tear up in the store and would do the same to her especially after my wonderfully worded and moving letter.

I don't really remember Mother's Days past.  I remember plans for them, if you can believe that!  I remember my Aunt Jean taking me all over Independence to find a gift for her probably more than one year.  But the year I remember we ended up going to Williams' store (I think it was Williams store!), the one across from Security State Bank.  I think I bought fabric or something silly like that but I couldn't honestly tell you.  All I remember is being out with Aunt which felt so grown up and buying something I thought Mom would like.  And I'm sure she did if only because we took the time to find it.

Perhaps that's why we never went really big on Mother's Day though.  We spent so much time together, talking, laughing, watching TV, shopping, eating--you get the idea--that we didn't really need another day that said we had to spend time together.  We did it anyway because we loved each other.  She was my best friend.  So many times now I wish I could pop over and ask her about something or other, get her advice, have her retell me a story.  (It's amazing how many stories I remember only part of but I know she'd remember all of it.)

Sure, I've got other mothers still.  I'm going to see some of them tomorrow when I head back to Iowa to hopefully, finally, finish the business of her dying.  My Aunt has always been the best of both worlds for me: part mother, part best friend.  Cathy, my (non-fairy) godmother, that I always think of with joy and smiles because she's always brought that to me.  Katie, my Other Mom, who I think has taken over the worrying part of the mom-duties now that mine isn't here to do that anymore.  Phil's mom, Barb, who has taken to me better than I have any right to ask a mother-in-law type person.  But they aren't my mom.  No one is quite like your mom.  Our own special snowflakes, each unique, each a little sharp, multifaceted, with a crystallized sort of wisdom (am I taking the metaphor too far do you think?).

Two of my moms: My mom and my godmother

I'll stop by and see my mom Tuesday or so when I'm in Iowa..  My daddy too since getting back up to there for Father's Day is probably about as likely as my winning the lottery and he's right next door after all.  It won't be the same.  The conversation is a bit one sided now.  And the seating isn't nearly as comfortable as her big old couch.  But I'll be happy to be there so close to Mother's Day all the same.

If you can, stop by and see your mom today.  If not, call.  I know it doesn't necessarily seem like a big thing now but take it from me, one day you'll be sitting at home on this day and wishing you could make that call just one more time.  And if, like me, you're in this all too awful club no one wants to be a member of, you aren't alone.  You aren't the only one missing them today.  And I'll be thinking of you just like I'm thinking of her.

Happy Mother's Day.