I am one of the lucky ones. My mother was the fiercest, strongest, most helpful, most supportive mom imaginable. My daughter was a spectacular light wrapped in an uncooperative vessel. I am lucky that I was the daughter of a fine mother and that I got to be the mother of a fine daughter.
They are both gone.
As we approach another Hallmark holiday, remember these things, please:
Some folks have lost their mothers.
Some women who want to become mothers are unable to have babies.
Some sons and daughters don’t have loving mothers.
Some women are mothers who’ve lost a child.
Some people don’t know where their children are.
Some folks will need a little extra courtesy, kindness, and understanding this week. I am one of those people. I know some others who are sharing in the acute sting of grief that we (mostly) have been living with as a dull chronic ache. All holidays are weird, but Mother’s Day presents a special kind of emotional dissonance. Thank you, my friends, for giving me a wide berth as I allow myself to miss my mother and my Jessie.
Grief seems to enjoy herself at times like this, so I try to cordially let her have a visit, but I have come to know that, after a brief tête-à-tête, I can politely (or not) show her the door. “Darling, I know you are happy in that room in my head, but please close that door behind you. It’s been a mother of a week.”