This isn't for those who can't bear children, or who choose not to bear children or those who've lost children. This isn't about being a mother.
This is about not having a mother.
I am almost 51 and many of my contemporaries are losing their moms to age and illness. Some of us have lost them years ago and still bear the ache of that loss.
Mother's Day is a painful holiday for us. It's an unhappy club, exclusive by loss.
Reminders abound; reminders about buying the perfect gift, the perfect card, the perfect flowers, the perfect heart-shaped necklace. Reminders abound that our own mothers are no longer here to shop for, remember to send a card to, order flowers for, to make that Sunday morning phone call.
Many of us had difficult relationships with our mothers. Maybe we're more like them than we'd care to admit. Maybe our differences were so great the chasm could only be crossed by great compromise and purposeful quiet. Some of us were friends and companions or caregivers to our mothers. Some us remember our mothers as hero warrior goddesses who were impervious to the forces of day to day living and conquered mountains and armies to provide for us. Of course there are those who's moms barely held it together and lived in chaos.
Time has a way of softening the edges of our memories, sanding the burrs from the differences and difficulties and polishing the shine on our similarities and happy times. Our mothers were there to brush our hair from our forehead in the heat of fever. They wrapped their arms around us when we cried, even as teenagers when those arms embarrassed us or caused us frustration and conflict. They listened to us share our dreams and successes and held us up during our failures. Our mothers gave us the one thing no one else in the universe will ever be able to give us--absolute, unconditional, throw-yourself-in-front-of-a-train for you love. No matter how ugly or mean or spiteful or crazy or emotional we became, our mothers loved us with the same all-consuming mama bear love that they felt the moment we were first laid in their arms.
We will never know or feel that love again.
We have no choice but to accept that and sigh, look wistfully to the horizon and enjoy a private reverie, maybe shed a few quiet tears. It may be overhearing a mother and daughter in a dressing room joking around and laughing, bickering, teasing, to bring back, with the force of a thousand suns, the memories shared years earlier with your mom. Or watching a daughter link arms with her mother as they walk down the street, or seeing the back of an elderly woman's head who is the same build and stature. The reminders seem to come from no where. Every where. All at once. Or the moment you look down and see your mother's hand, realizing it's your own, or catching a glimpse in a mirror of your own face that echoes hers, or the voice you hear sounds like hers...but is your own. Or the voice whispering to you in your dreams, the fleeting misty view of her smile as she comes to you, from the other side, by your side, in the moments before you wake.
If you're reading this and you are blessed to still have your mother, hold her tight. Put aside your impatience, ego or differences and appreciate her. There will be a time, far sooner than you can imagine, that you'll be a member of this sorority. Send her a card, send her flowers, take her to brunch or do whatever you want to do to celebrate today. But tomorrow, call her, take her to lunch, tell her you love her and appreciate her and are there for her. Ask her for advice, listen to that advice. Ask her about her dreams, desires, wishes and ideas. Do whatever you can to make her life better, easier, more fulfilling. Be there for her. You won't be sorry if you do.
To my sisters and brothers in the mother less club, endure today. Enjoy your own families or find something you like to do and bury yourself in it. Try not to let the bombardment of the day make you sad. It's just another day on the calendar. Hold your memories close and know that no matter your relationship, there's a very strong likelihood, your mother loved you dearly and was incredibly proud of you.
I love you Mom. I miss you.
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