I used to love Mother’s Day. It was a day of pancakes, fresh squeezed orange juice and lots of hugs and kisses. But now — even though I am a mom myself — the day is just another day.
After I lost my own mother eight years ago, Mother’s Day has lost its allure. It is still a day of pancakes, fresh squeezed orange juice, and lots of hugs and kisses, but I realize now that I preferred to be the one paying tribute rather than the one being honored.
Mother’s Day now just makes me sad. Sad for not being able to tell my mom how much I love her, not being able to hug her and hold her tight, not having her to be here to tell me everything is going to be okay.
The death of a parent is one of those life “biggies” and while most of the year, I can walk through the days not thinking about my loss, a day like Mother’s Day — which is supposed to be happy and sweet — just brings back a flood of memories and all the various ways I miss my mom and wish she was still here.
I wish that she could see that I became a writer (she always wanted me to be one, even when I wanted to be a chef and/or a filmmaker), that my husband is just as wonderful as the day I married him, and to meet her granddaughter who she would have adored.
Yes, I’m writing this with tears streaming down my cheeks, and I’m realizing I need to redefine Mother’s Day. I need to embrace it as not just remembering my own departed mother but I need to let myself be the one being pampered and spoiled, which for many of us moms is a hard thing to let happen when we are the ones usually doing the giving.
I need to turn Mother’s Day from a day of loss to a day of love.
To all you mothers out there, happy Mother’s Day. I hope you hold your own mothers tight and tell them you love them, because you never know when those days will be gone, and you’ll want them back more than anything.