teaching…

I’m not sure why we have a holiday for EVERY occasion in this world. At this writing we are between Bereaved Mothers Day and Mothers Day. While I understand the gentle nature and meaning behind the first one, they are both terribly difficult to bear. Right up there with the birthday and anniversary dates….so, yesterday all day I felt off and lost. No flowers, cards or calls. Because no one celebrates this day but US. Celebrate sounds like too much like a celebration to me. Then there’s the REAL mothers day. yay. My memories around it include but are not limited to: organizing and catering more Mother Daughter Banquets at our tiny church in N.E. Ohio than can be counted, buying and planting tons of plants, breakfast in bed, and my husband telling me every year after he did nothing for me that “ I wasn’t his mother.” Now that my mom is gone and my only daughter, I literally cringe at the card section and the constant reminders. One of the best Mothers Days on record was the last one that was celebrated. 2015.

Sarah had the entire day planned…it started with two breakfasts in bed. Isaac and she both showed up with loads of food on trays and watched as I tried to eat it all gracefully. We shopped for annuals and vegetable plants. We then loaded our bikes and the kayak up. She and I went for a long ride and then stopped for lunch. It was at this cute diner that served burgers, fries and milk shakes. We had so much fun, but the best part was that SHE paid for it. She was working for me and had her own money and it blessed her heart just as much as mine to do so. On the way home, we stopped at a lake and she gave me an allotted amount of time to kayak and fish. LOL. She stood there the entire time and let me know when we had to go…I don’t remember anything else about that day. It was just perfect.

Saturday I was thinking about my own mom. She wanted nothing to do with me before her passing. She also died on a hill of needing everyone to understand her and sympathize. I will never be able to undo any wrongs done or misunderstandings though I tried many times. I realized that I was doing the same thing with my sons. However I made the conscience decision to be OK with not being understood. Unless three grown men can grow uteruses and have babies then lose one or more of them, they can never fully grasp it all. And that’s just the loss part, not the rest of the story…

If you find yourself in the same space as me and way too many others, or you know someone who does…hold onto the good. look for the good. remember the good. guard every thought. every thought. listen to your body and take care of yourself and the ones you love. you are not alone. there is hope. there really is. I love you.