Around here, Mother’s Day is a somber time. My Ma seems to find little to rejoice in knowing that her own Momma is gone and it seems that she is torn at times in her grief. Some of it because of anger about things gone very wrong many years ago, and then she smiles a time or two remembering some of the fun and jolly times. Today I struggled to be the comfort to her and as much as I wanted to attend dinner to meet my Uncle, she wouldn’t let me. I know I am a handful at times, but that will happen soon, I am sure.
Early wee hours of the morning she woke up (earlier than most) as it seemed she couldn’t sleep and sat down at her usual spot and began catching up. Before I knew it, she was in tears. I couldn’t help her so much, but I know she found this and thought it would be appropriate to share for her and to others that struggle with such a significant day:
Today is Mother’s Day.
For many people that means flowers and handmade cards and brunches and hugs and laughter. It means celebration and gratitude and rejoicing.
But for some it just means tears.
For many moms and adult children out there, this day is a stark unsolicited reminder of what was but no longer is, or it is a heavy holiday of mourning what never was at all.
This day might bring with it the scalding sting of grief for the empty chair around a table.
It might come with choking regret for a relationship that has been horribly severed.
It might be a day of looking around at other mothers and other children, and feeling the unwelcome intrusion of jealousy that comes with comparison.
Consider this a love letter to you who are struggling today; you whose Mother’s Day experience might be rather bittersweet— or perhaps only bitter.
This is consent to feel fully the contents of your own heart…
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