Today marks my fifth Mother’s Day without Mom. So is it “happy”? Well, that’s a matter of perspective…
It probably goes without saying that I am in a much different spot today than I was four years ago. The passing of Mom was raw then. In fact, that first Mother’s Day came only a month after we lost her. At that time, I was still trying to process it all. I wasn’t sure whether to be sad, pissed off, or happy for all the other families celebrating their mothers. But time indeed marches on. And in many ways, it does heal a lot of wounds. But is my Mother’s Day “happy” without the ability to be with my mom? To be blunt, you’re damn right I’m happy!
Now hold on there. Listen to what I am saying. Remember, I am in a much different spot today than four years ago. I have come to think of this day with fond memories of my mom. (Hence the photo above. This was her punishment after barking out orders to us at the family reunion. She was such a good sport!) It took me a while to get here. The first couple times this day past, I certainly wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. I may have even been a little resentful of others’ happiness. Do I regret that? To be blunt, again, not a damn bit!
What am I trying to say…
Happy Mother’s Day!
and…
It’s okay if Mother’s Day is not so happy for you. I pray that it get’s better for you some day.
No matter what this day currently means to you, be okay with where you’re at. Please celebrate with your mom if you are able, and celebrate her memory if she’s no longer with us. And if this day finds you sitting at home, melancholy, missing your mom dearly, know that she is still with you in memory, and spirit.
To illustrate this, I’d like to share an excerpt of a paper I wrote for a college course a few weeks after my mom passed…
“… I believed that Mom was no longer there in the frail shell that was once her body. In fact, as I grasped her soft hand, as I had done so many other times in the past, I now sensed that she was there in another capacity. When I walked into that room my intention was to be there for my mom. I wanted her to know, as she passed on to the glory that awaited her, that she was loved and that I would never leave her. Instead, at that very moment, I felt a sense that the tables had turned. I no longer wondered if Mom’s spirit was freed from the confines of her broken body, because she was there, somehow, letting me know that I was loved and that she would never leave me. And in ways I do not yet understand, she returned to me what I thought was lost forever. Peace.”
May today bring you joy, or at least peace, as we celebrate the legacy of our mothers.
Friends, I do want to recognize that, sometimes, people have absent mothers, or “mothers” in title only. I can’t even begin to understand what this day may mean to you. However, I do firmly believe that, more often than not, amazing women step in to fill that role, whether we see it or not. If you don’t have a “mother” to celebrate today, don’t forget to celebrate the women who stepped in!
Be well…
P.S. If you have a story to tell and would like to join Jim Ladiski Writes as a guest blogger, please contact me!
Thank you Jim. Your story was heartfelt as I too remember a time just before my mom passed that she was comforting me when I was sobbing uncontrollable. I’m lying next to her and she stroked my hair one last time and says it’s ok ,it’s all good now. I love my mom so much and I miss her every day but I smile each time a make a pie or pick up a crochet hook. She taught me things and so much more. ❤️
Thanks for sharing, Melanie. It’s nice when we get to a point in our lives when we can look back on these memories fondly. They are such tough moments in time, but they also seem to become moments we later cherish. Happy Mother’s Day to you!!
Jim, when my mother passed I had been prepared. This sounds terrible, but it wasn’t a big deal. Ok, you may say WHAT THE HELL out loud Jim. Now I was loved greatly by my Mom. She was a force to be reckoned with when her cubs were in danger. In second grade I had a teacher shove my nose into a corner. It was a slight fracture. When picked up at the principal office, she confidently walked in. The principal asked to speak to her alone about “the accident”,
Mom said “No, we WILL SPEAK HERE and NOW. She did ask me to wait in the hall then. I only heard subtle bits and pieces. The conversation seemed very one sided. The door opened, Mom said “let’s go home”.
I was in trouble for being unruly in class. Apparently she did not approve of a disruptive game of tag. She also did not approve of bullies. I learned behavior, respect, and dignity. Many years later psychological testing found me to be a Challenger / Synthesizer as my primary personality traits. I was also found to be relatively sane.
I credit my Mom with guiding me. Being very similar we were both stubborn. Years later, as I flew sporadically, some altitude challenges and some rough landings, she was always there.
Then things gradually changed; very subtle little things. Not her cancer battles and other health issues but forgetfulness. It progressed in a steady march. At her peak the dementia left her with a 15 second short term memory…yet she often remembered me.
Things had forever changed though. The Mom I loved and knew really wasn’t there anymore. She had did her best to raise her family. We all had different strengths and gifts from her. We all had butted heads, true. Now, it was time though for the roles to reverse.
When her last breath was taken, her heart stopped, and no brain activity detected she clinically and legally dead. She had prepared me though by slowly fading her personality. In effect, the brain ebbed, although the cardiopulmonary continued. The body was just a shell…a container…the soul as I knew it slipped away. Not painlessly for me but in little dribbles, a little at a time…acceptable little twinges at a time.
I don’t know if this detachment for me was healthy. It resulted in my Father having me designated as his advocate with a Durable Power of Attorney. My brother and sister also advocated in different powers. When Dad suffered a major cerebral vascular stroke, I was called. Walking into the ER, Sue and I both knew the prognosis wasn’t good. The receptionist glanced over at the Dr. on duty. He asked us to step this way leading us to a office. I knew from occupational experience that Dad was either dead or dying. Upon viewing the scans it didn’t take much to know that there was no return. The Dr. had options but I advised him that I wanted only pallative care. In effect I “figuratively pulled the plug”. Dad passed in three days, with family present. Some family rifts that went back decades eased and then Dad passed. Dad had wanted me for that responsibility and knew that I had his logic and moms strength.
I never cried with either passing. Yet I can be brought to tears passing a car crash now. I always was able to compartmentalize, do what was needed, and move on. When PTSD (my interpretation is Pain That Slowly Destroys) took hold I don’t know. I did know it was time to leave professions I loved. That was something else from Mom: Never be afraid to start over.
Should you want to share, again go ahead. I kind of find you as a kindred soul Jim. A little delamination of the layers, basically strong though. I got some sincerity exposed so you have to have a little sarcasm.
WHAT THE HELL, John?! Hahaha! Thanks for sharing so much about your mom (and dad)!
You mentioned that you were prepared and didn’t cry when your mom passed, that’s partially the same for me. I too learned–all to well–over the course of my career to compartmentalize my emotions. When it came time to make the decision to end life support for Mom, I “had to be” the “strong one” and guide my family through the decision. Most of my emotions were left internal at the time. And when Kevin died, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The compartments of my emotions broke. While I didn’t experience true PTSD, I did have a few crippling memories that I had to work through–along with a whole host of other crap.
I too see you as a kindred spirit, John. (Which makes me wonder what level of crazy I am!! Haha!) Maybe it’s the fact that we’re both first responders. Maybe it’s because we both attempt to do right to the people around us. And maybe it’s because we aren’t afraid to challenge our own beliefs; or to call out the things we are told to believe when they don’t quite line up with out internal desire of helping others–ALL others. Or (and most likely), maybe it’s because we are both so dashingly handsome!! It’s probably a combination of those things…
Anyway, I always appreciate your candidness and your willingness to share!
Be well…