Mother’s Day will be difficult, this year, because my mother passed away last December. She won’t be here to share the special meal or receive beautiful flowers. Losing a mother is a reminder of who you are, who you’ve become, and how you got there, no matter your age, education, or independence.
After my divorce, my father suggested that my mother and I live together. She had a lively personality and a wide social circle of friends through her church and other groups. I have been fortunate to have her take care of household tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and shopping while I focused on my education and business.
My mother loved being the matriarch of the family. She loved celebrating, giving advice, and discipline. And she gave me a wonderful life at every stage of life. She was a marvelous caretaker, loved children, and solved all their problems, which included spanking and shopping. But, most of all, she loved a new baby.
We all grieve at our own pace in our unique way. Preparing for a funeral is a busy, hectic, and overwhelming time. But it is also reflective, with so many people to assist. So many of my friends are ministers; they were lovely, from caretaking and spiritual advice to planning. They know how to comfort, and they know the right words and the proper prayers.
My mother had her plans well defined and well prepared, and she would say it was all in “divine order. “I had to follow her instruction. She told me, “I will make it easy for you. You will get a good cry and move on.” She provided me with the original text to be rewritten. She even told me what to wear. A red dress. Do not mourn me.
But then everybody goes home, and you wake up to newness. Life regroups, and a new chapter begins. A new season and new habits. You have lots of time for reflection.
I used to go to the store every week. Mentally I am still shopping for her. I still reach for her favorite bread, bacon, and jelly for breakfast. You do things you don’t realize are learned behavior from your mother. So, to deal with the Sunday blues, I invite friends over for dinner, and we have a great time with absolutely no agenda. It’s family dinner time. We laugh and get caught up on the news and what is upcoming. I can’t believe I am cooking on Sundays. Not my job. My friends covet the invite.
Cleaning Out the Closets…
And then there is cleaning out the closets, going through dresser drawers, and finding the unique gift from _Mother’s Day_, birthday, or, I remember, Christmas. And you see the things you thought you had forgotten. The old report card, the wedding pictures, the vacation, the graduation picture, the family, and the photos of your mother before you were born. Who is that pretty lady? It’s your mother before you.
The most challenging moment is to disperse belongings; what do you do with the clothes? I wasn’t prepared. My mother’s birthday was in April. I was scheduled to get rid of her things by her birthday. I didn’t make it because I couldn’t do it. Nothing wrong, but I just couldn’t. What do I do with her things?
I gave many things to a nursing home, dresses, and shoes to a shelter; some went to a resale shop. It took me months to get through this final moment. And it took me a while to realize I couldn’t do it alone. Finally, one Sunday, I called a couple of friends, and they helped me after a delicious dinner.
And then, there is one more thing; She told me to have a birthday party on her birthday and give her “girls” presents. She left her favorites a purse, a scarf, earrings, a coat, or a robe. I haven’t gotten there yet, but I am on the way.
Since my mother’s passing, I have had dinner out many evenings. Friends call with great intentions to see how I am doing and to tell me how to get over it. There is no comfort. My routine is different. I think so much about lessons learned; the memories are significant. I hear the voice, but I miss the conversations. Where is the advice, that mother’s wisdom?
My mother lived a great life, a prosperous life. She died at 101. She was healthy to the very end. No disease, just enough living. I was fortunate to have her. People still say I am sorry for your loss. The saying should be, I am glad for your blessing.
I still have to write thank you notes. I still have to present Mildred’s presents. So, this Mother’s Day is different, but I am more thankful than ever that I have had such a grand lady all my life. I live with much gratitude.
Hug your mother. And most of all, enjoy her life.
