Mother’s Day

Today is my second Mother’s Day without you. If I sit down and think about what I’m missing out on with you, I wouldn’t be a very functional or reasonable person. Losing you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Accepting that you’re gone is the second hardest.

As I navigate my way through this day, surrounded by ads, cartoons, and mothers filled with unrealistic and forceful expectations of their offspring and spouses, I can’t help but feel this resigned sense of deeper understanding. I don’t want my kids making a big production out of one day. The greatest gift they can give me isn’t a gift certificate to the spa, or brunch, or flowers, it’s their love that I need. That’s really it.

Do I miss you a little more today than other days? No, I actually don’t. That’s the truth. I know I’ve got your love. I’ve got it forever and you have mine. I’ve accepted that I am the mother of a deceased son. It’s become a part of who I am. It’s been woven into my future already.

Last year was so hard, but it’s because I hadn’t accepted my fate, I hadn’t accepted your death. I still longed to have you around me in the way I had expected. This year, I guess it really marks how far I’ve come. Of course I want you back! But I know that’s not going to happen. I’ve accepted my relationship with you as it is now, not as I dreamed it would be. I know that you’re always around me and that, when I need the extra reminder, there is a lovely patch of grass at the cemetery with your name on it, with your body in it. That’s the extent of our physical closeness, and I’m okay with that now. I had to be.

I love you and I know you’re with me as your sisters and I enjoy Mother’s Day weekend.

Always your loving mother,


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