This Mother’s Day was altogether different from years past. I woke up alone and overwhelmed with loneliness. While I knew that I was not exactly alone, knowing that I had received everything I was going to get for Mother’s Day already, had a way of making the day feel less joyful. I glanced at the delicate black friendship bracelet that YaYa had made for me the night before and smiled remembering his efforts to relearn how to make it. I knew I was being stupid for feeling sad, yet I couldn’t seem to shake the emotion.
In years past, this day would have been one where I was ordered to remain in bed while my loved ones pulled together coffee and breakfast for me. The intended “surprise” tended to be anything but that, with the kids arguing on the way up the stairs over who would be the one to open the door and who would get to hand me the flowers they’d picked from the garden. I think I got more joy in hearing these conversations than the breakfast and gifts they had for me; nothing beats a son’s heartfelt want to express their love.
Deep down, I know that I have it all wrong. It’s not supposed to be about my children expressing their love for me, it’s supposed to be about how I can express my love for my own mother. The fact that I wanted it both ways was troubling me — and yet for the majority of the day I could not put my finger on the reason why.
It wasn’t until dinner, when the messages from my other two son’s finally arrived on my phone that I become more aware of the reason for the sadness: my son’s aren’t little anymore…therefore they don’t need me. Instead, it me who needs them. As I watched my own mother smile as I give her my advice on alignment and mobility (read: my undivided attention), I wondered how many times I left her feeling unloved and unappreciated by my last minute call on Mother’s Day.
Now, THAT is sad.
This is the typical cycle of life, I suppose… but maybe, just maybe, Mother’s Day could be different. Maybe, instead of being sad about kids growing up, I could imagine myself as a little girl once more, and give my mother a little love and appreciation as my sons used to give me.
Dammit Juls. That brought tears to my eyes.
Once I had kids, Mothers Day became all about me. I was shocked at how easy it was to forget my own mother – at least I felt that way because I was so excited to get all that kid love. I think I did a good job of making sure she was an important part of Mothers Day but in retrospect I’m not sure I did. And now she is gone. So I like your idea. Now that your kids are big, make Mothers Day about your Mom. That is a great idea!
It’s funny how we think, at the time, that we are doing well just by calling, sending a card, flowers, or maybe a quick visit. It does get hard to allow the kids the time to give to us, to attend to your mom, and often your mother-in-law too. It always felt like Mother’s and Father’s Day should have fallen on 3-day weekends to accommodate it all.
I only have one parent of three left. I could do better… A LOT better.