My beautiful mother, ready to go on the adventure of parenthood.
My windshield kept fogging up the other day. I’d push the defroster button, and minutes later it would fog up again. My engineer husband would have tried to figure out what was wrong with it. But me, being as right brained as they come, simply went along with it until my windshield finally cleared for good.
Sitting in my Subaru pushing the defrost button over and over, I felt like I’ve felt the almost five years since my mom passed away. There have been moments of clarity, but grief always seem to cloud them. I miss my mom more now than when she first died. Maybe it’s because I’m realizing its permanent. Maybe it’s because I’m mothering teenagers. Maybe it’s because 1,726 days isn’t that long when you think about the span of an average life. However, my mom’s life was anything but average, especially when she became a mother.
From as long as I can remember, my mom and I would go on little adventures together. Whether it was sliding down the swirly slide at Les Myers Park, riding bikes to the Green Top gas station, or flagging down a tour bus in New York City, we always managed to have a good time.
I miss those times more than I thought I would. It’s like when you’re preparing to have a child. No one can explain to you the love you will feel for that child or how complex the task of being a parent is. It’s something you have to experience to understand.
The doctors gave my mom four to six weeks after her cancer diagnosis, but mom was always one to beat expectations. She passed away six weeks and two days after they told her she had stomach cancer. I marched through those six weeks like a soldier — handling logistics, answering questions, monitoring every little thing — and then she was gone, leaving me with a void that has only grown bigger with each passing year.
Mother’s Day has been difficult since then. There’s no one to buy a present for or go shopping with. There’s no lunch where we celebrate being mothers together. And there are no more hugs. For the past few years, I’ve toned down the holiday just to get through it. But this year, I feel like my windshield is finally clear. I’m not sure what the difference is, but I’m realizing that this is my time to be the mother, to go on the adventures with the family I’ve made, to live my life.
A switch wasn’t flipped to get me here, instead the balm of time did it. Somehow you learn to live with your loss, and it grows into whatever you need it to be. I feel the presence of my mom when The Tots grunt about having to unload the dishwasher or pick up their clothes. I feel her when my children face disappointments or when something is unfair. I feel her when my daughter is on stage, and I feel her when my son earns a new rank in Scouts. She is always with me, and the best way I can honor her is by being a good mother.
Today, I’m not sure what our family is going to do to celebrate Mother’s Day. I get to pick, but I’m often overwhelmed by the choices and usually end up spending a relaxing day at home with a good book. That’s how my mom chose to spend so many of her afternoons, and I’m happy to say that I am like her in many ways.
I learned so much from my mother growing up, but I’ve learned tons more from her since she left. So instead of dwelling on what I had, I’m choosing to continue the course my mom so graciously set. It’s my time to go on the adventures and teach my kids what a good mother is. I only hope I can do as good of a job as my mom did.
Happy Mother’s Day!