This will be the first Mother’s Day in four years that I’ll be able to spend with my mom. Before now, I couldn’t bring myself to visit her grave. It hurt too bad. I haven’t been to see her since her funeral, actually, which will have been five years ago this July. This year, though, I hope things can be different.
My mom knew the triumphs and the struggles associated with being a mother better than anyone I can think of. She understood the lovey-dovey parts of being a mother to two girls as well as the traumatic and unexpected pain of losing her first child, an unborn son. She knew how it felt to struggle and succeed in raising a family in tough financial situations, but she also felt the crushing blow of being told in her early thirties that she would never again be able to carry a child. She was the mother of one child with a birth defect and another with common learning disabilities. She was a compassionate conquerer, a wise genius, and the most giving individual that I have met in my life.
This week, I am praying for all of the families and individuals who have mixed emotions – or even plain hatred – in their hearts for this holiday. I pray for all of the exhausted mothers with children, the bereaved mothers without children, the lost children without mothers, the fathers who wear two hats, and all of those who wish to become mothers but can’t.
You only get one mother. I think that’s what makes this holiday so hard for so many of us. No matter how you try to fill the hole in your heart – whether it’s a mother, grandmother, child, etc. – nothing and no one can take the place of someone you’ve lost. To those who understand, I am sorry for your pain; I know it all too well.
In spite of the pain, the loss, the longing, and the way that society tries to tell you how to feel, I do wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day.
From one motherless child to the masses in mourning,