Mother’s Day is always a glass-half-full, glass-half-empty kind of day for me. After 13 years, I still miss my mother. I find myself turning to say something that I will make her smile, or I want to fax her a letter telling her what’s going on in my life. But there’s no point. Her telephone has been disconnected, just as her life was.
On the other hand, my children suffered for years when I couldn’t bear to celebrate a day that had lost all meaning for me. But I had to suck it up – I’m a mother, and a grandmother, and they want to fete me, from genuine love and not because it’s the thing to do one day a year. So I finally was able to go to the card racks at Shoppers Drug mart and not weep as I tried to select a card for my beloved daughter-in-law. I stopped going through the photo albums that re-opened the wounds of loss, because it struck me that I was beginning to wallow, and I could never stand anyone who wallowed in – whatever.
So today was a gorgeous day. Sunny and warm, when the wind wasn’t cutting against your bare flesh. I helped Hub assemble our new gazebo from Lowe’s. It looks very Asian and reminds of us temples in Thailand, which is a good thing. My cousin was here from Fort McMurray and we had more great chats. We called her mother – my Mom’s sister and Syped with her sister in South Africa and a brother in Halifax. My brother called me and my granddaughter’s soccer team won the tournament they were in, in Oshawa (she told me she toe-punted in a winning goal).
Life is good. We are blessed.