Ah, it's that time of year again. Spring. Flowers in bloom. Here in Georgia, already hot and humid. May. The end of the school year. Mother's Day.
I was about 13 when my Mom's mother passed away. Every mother's day after that, my own mother just seemed....sad. Most Mother's Day Sundays at church, she would look like she was fighting back tears. She smiled at our cards, small gifts, and attempts at breakfast in bed....but there was always this sadness behind her smile.
I had no understanding of this.
We were celebrating HER day.
Showering her with gifts.
My teenage mind thought she should have been really happy on that day.
Twelve years ago, I gained a perfect understanding.
Mother's Day 1998 was my first mother's day without my own mother.
We had buried her less than a month earlier, with no chances beforehand to say goodbye. It had all happened so suddenly.
On that mother's day, all I could seem to do was to look at my own children (ages 3 and 7) and grieve over what they would miss by not having my mom in their lives as they grew up. And what I would miss by not having her wisdom and experience to guide me as I parented them.
Twelve years ago....and still, mother's day is difficult for me. Don't get me wrong. My family always makes my mother's day special. My husband always does something really nice for me (and he takes the kids to buy cards and flowers). I reflect on how much my kids have grown and how proud I am of the adults they are becoming. They all make me smile. But often, I admit, there is sadness behind my smile.
I miss my mom.
More than I ever thought it possible to miss another person.
How I wish I could buy and mail a card, send flowers, take her breakfast in bed or take her out for a special day together.
How glorious and comforting the thought of seeing her again.
What a Mother's Day THAT will be!