Mother’s Day used to be one of my favorite days. My mother
went into labor on that holiday, but she still took the time to wolf down a big
meal and a rum baba (against doctor’s orders) at Grandma’s house before rushing
off to the hospital. I was born in the wee hours, but Mom and I cheated a bit
and said that I was a Mother’s Day baby.
Even though Mom had already experienced nearly nine months
of me, Mother’s Day marked the first time that I was actually out there in the
world with her. From then on, each time our holiday rolled around, it had that
additional meaning. We never had big, lavish celebrations. We simply spent the
day together. We enjoyed going shopping or to the beach when I was home in
Florida. And when Mom visited us in Paris, macarons and champagne always seemed
to be on the menu.
While I struggled for years as an unpublished author, Mom
cheered me on. She wouldn’t hear of ever giving up, of ever considering
failure.
Distance separated us physically, but never emotionally.
And then came the spring of 2009. My mother’s Paris
adventure would end exactly where it had started a few years earlier: in one of
the city’s most well-known tea salons. She suffered a seizure and what ensued
was a three-week fight lost to a glioblastoma, a deadly brain tumor. My husband
and I accompanied her during that battle: daily visits to her at the hospital,
long conversations, cheering her through rehabilitation that seemed promising
in our delirious minds.
My mother convinced herself and us that she would recover. She never
complained or lost faith.
Mom even said: “I’m happy that I’m here… with you.”
When things got unbearably difficult, not only was my mother
strong, but she thought that I was too. She believed that, together, we could
win this battle.
In spite of our strength and love, Mom slipped away.
The realization of my loss came a few days after this
grueling fight reached its end. The place: a Florida supermarket. It was
Mother’s Day weekend, and the cashier, as she handed me my receipt, innocently
said: Have a Happy Mother’s Day!
It was as if right then, the pain finally broke through the
numbness that had been occupying my brain. It was over. Mother’s Day is meant
to be celebrated together. But I was alone. That other half was gone.
I missed Mom for all that she was as a person as well as all
that she brought to my life. Mom stood up for what she believed in. A
registered nurse, she struggled to bring union representation to the hospital
where she worked. She showered kindness on those around her. Peeling fruit for
elderly patients and rocking babies born to drug-abusing mothers were not in
her job description. But those are some of the things that she did because of
the natural empathy and compassion that ruled her heart.
Of the most touching memories I have of my mother, are the
times when she saved baby birds fallen from the nest or helped an extra-slow
turtle cross the road.
And I selfishly missed Mom for the attention that she offered
me, her only child.
When Mother’s Day came around the next year, I felt like an
outsider… and that loneliness continued even after the birth of my daughter. P.
was too young to understand Mother’s Day, to somehow transform the sadness into
happiness. And in any case, she wasn’t a replacement for my mother.
A few more Mother’s Days passed. And now the sixth one without
Mom approaches. P. is almost four years old: just about ready to celebrate a
Mother’s Day with me, to understand how special that mother-daughter bond can
be.
But do I have the courage to look at this Mother’s Day
differently? To remember the relationship that I had with my mother and keep it
alive, and to celebrate the one I have with my daughter?
I remember a conversation I had with someone recently. I was
lamenting about how much I missed discussing problems with my mom and asking
her for advice. And this very insightful person told me: “The answers are
already there, in your heart and mind. Your mother gave them to you slowly but
surely as you were growing up. You know your mother. You know what she would
say. You know what she would do. She will live on through you.”
I cried for a long while… And concluded that this person was
right.
I think back to what I discovered about my mother and myself
during those days at the hospital: our strength.
I realize that my mother hadn’t lost her battle. Through her
courage, she had been victorious. Now, it would be my turn.
Even though I don’t feel very strong at this time of year, I
think of the confidence my mother had in me as I sat at her bedside. I can’t
disappoint her.
So this year, as Mother’s Day approaches, I try to remain
calm. I will make the day a good one. I promise myself that this time, I will
shake off those bad feelings. I know that is what my mother would want.
I'm sure Mom would tell me to celebrate this
Mother’s Day by doing one of her favorite things: Enjoying an omelet and wine
at a Paris café and watching the world go by. And finishing off the experience
with a rum baba.
What a very moving tribute, and what a wonderful bond you two had.
ReplyDeleteThank you for taking the time to read, Margaret. The loss was life changing and extremely painful, but I tell myself that I was lucky to have had such a mother.
DeleteBeautiful memories and a lovely way to remember your mum. Loss and grief are signficant experiences in life and we often ignore them in public. What a special connection you both had. May your brithday and the memory of your Mother, bring you joy and peace.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for the kind words of support, Tamara. You are so right about how we usually deal with loss. Talking about it rather than ignoring it actually helps... and it keeps the memories alive.
DeleteHow touching, Adria. It sounds like you shared something truly special with your mom and will continue to honor your mother with the way you raise your own daughter.
ReplyDeleteThank you, April. The mother-daughter bond is quite special. Often, I'll say something to my daughter and then say to myself "I sound just like my mother!" And most times, I'm happy that I do sound like Mom...
DeleteI was born the day before Mother's Day, just in time to make my mom a mother. I, too, have a hard time around my birthday / Mother's Day now that she's gone. I hope we both find some satisfying ways to celebrate this year!
ReplyDeleteJoy, thanks so much for visiting my blog and sharing your thoughts. It's true that being a Mother's Day baby can be wonderful, but then so difficult after Mom is no longer around. I hope that you had a peaceful day filled with your favorite memories of your mother...
DeleteI think your traditions with your mom are so special and it's really cool that you'll be able to start those with P, especially in Paris! Nothing can replace the old traditions with your mom but hopefully some new ones will help. By the way, that picture of your mom is gorgeous! She looks just like you :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for the kind words, Vicki. Having P. really helps because it carries on that connection I had/have with my mom. I'm grateful for that. And I like hearing that I look like my mom. :)
DeleteReading this brought a tear to my eye. I'm lucky to still have my mother and father in their late 70s and early 80s. It's good that you have such good memories!
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, Laurie. Indeed you are very lucky! I'm glad my mom and I had such a close relationship as those good memories do keep the person alive in our hearts...
DeleteWhat an incredible relationship you had with your mom and I am sorry for your loss. I hope you will link up a couple blog posts with my #SmallVictoriesSundaylinky. I would love to share your heartfelt writing with my readers. http://momssmallvictories.com/small-victories-sunday-linkup-21/
ReplyDeleteHi Tanya, Thank you for your kind words and for visiting my blog... and yes, I would love to link this and other posts up to your Sunday linkup. I will put it on my agenda for next week!
DeleteOh my goodness! This has tears in my eyes. How beautiful, from beginning to end. Wonderful tribute to your mom!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jennine. It was emotional to write... but I'm glad I did it. By writing about my mother, I feel that I can keep her close and she won't become a far off memory.
DeleteThis is a truly beautiful post and tribute to your Mom. I appreciate your heart and willingness to share so much. Thanks so much for linking up with #smallvictoriessundaylinky! You have been pinned to the group board. :)
ReplyDeleteIt was difficult to write, but I'm glad that I did share this personal and emotional story. Thank you for reading, Katy...
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