Happy Mothers Day. Happy.....Mothers.....Day?
Classroom projects, precious little hand prints pressed into clay. Painted and glazed. Cut out construction paper hand shapes colored with love. Bouquets of hydrangeas and roses, carnations or orchids. Ceramic tokens of fond childhood memories. Expressions of love and family. Brunches and fancy dresses. Smiles and hugs, warmth and gratitude. Children, Mother, Grandmother, Aunt, Sister, Niece.
Is this what Mother's Day is? I though it was once. Isn't it? That is what it is supposed to be......right?
I can recall many Mothers Days in my adult. Eleven to be exact. I shared two with my eldest daughter before her little sister was born. “The Girls”. My girls. My beautiful girls. I remember the school age years, my daughters' smiling faces. Presenting, ever so proudly, their carefully created classroom project of the week for mom. Eyes open wide, just like mine are on their birthdays, nervous excited anticipation, will this trinket show just how much I care? How much I put in to making it just right? Will she love it? I recognize the glint. I would. I know them. I know them better than I know me. Yet this day, Mothers Day number twelve, they have been taken from mom and I am without my precious angels on Mothers Day for the very first time in their lives. A piece of my heart has forever turned. There is no remedy for this kind of pain. I can only imagine what today is like for those little souls that will forever remember this time. There is no remedy for this kind of pain.
I scramble to recall a Mother's Day from my own childhood. Everyday seemed to be Mother's Day growing up. It's always about her. It's still about her today in her mind. On this day, day number eighteen of the backlash of her latest sick game. Her selfish, psychotic, narcissistic episode. I struggle to find reason for my own children to have to suffer such traumatic repercussions of the chaos created intentionally by the woman who bore me. Solely for her selfish insecure thoughts. How much must they pay for my inability to identify her disease? Happy Mothers Day? Happy Mothers Day? Whats happy about an ill destructive mother who makes it impossible for even her grandchildren to have a day with their own mother?
I dream for the day when my vision of Mothers Day is reality for me as I see it is for so many others. No matter how far away it feels now, I, WE, will be there one day.
Here's to all the families that are putting on those fancy dresses and clipping those flowers to put into vases. Feel the warmth of the love and smiles. Laugh deep and hard and cherish the love and health of a nurturing relationship. There is nothing like it.
A special cheers to all of us out there with ill destructive mothers. Those of us who sometimes pretend it's us so that we can feel normal and have that love from “mom” like everyone else. We are not alone and we will be ok.
Happy Mothers Day!
