On this eve of the one day a year where we publicly celebrate our mothers and their influence in our lives, I have a confession to make to you. And although I know that this confession may not surprise you in the least, you both know me so well, I still feel that it needs to be said.
I've been sad.
In particular, I've been sad on Mother's Day.
Each year, as the day has approached, my thoughts have turned inwards, as the memories of long ago times spent with my mother have filled my head and my heart... the beachy summers in Greece, silly talks at the kitchen table, meeting at church on Sundays, the seemingly endless telephone calls, the feel of her fingers through my hair.
It has made me sad simply because I am selfish. I long to have those days back. I long to call to tell her about the newest pair of way too high of heels I have found and will probably never wear. I long for pedicure dates and trips to the mall. I long for the smell of her perfume as she hugs me and for the way that only she had, like most mothers do, of really, no I mean really, getting under my skin.
For most of the last twelve years, try as I might, I have been unable to control the flood of emotions that overtake me this time of year. I try to push them away but I cannot. I turn quiet. I retreat. Into myself, introspective and always alone with the memories.
I'm different this year.
Don't get me wrong, I am still unbearably sad that my momma is gone. Forever, I will be. I am sad for me, because I miss her tremendously, each and every day. Some days I feel as if I am missing a piece of my soul, it hurts that bad. Somehow, deep down, I do not believe that will ever change.
I am also sad for the two of you, because truth is, you were simply too young to truly appreciate the woman that she was... the silly, loving, bossy, loud, heart on her sleeve momma that loved us with a depth and passion that we may never fully comprehend.
Honestly, though? What makes me the most sad is not the loss. I cannot believe I am saying this after so many years, but I am finally learning to cope with the loss, as difficult as it is. No, what makes my heart the most sad is that for the last twelve years I have allowed my sadness to cast this ever present, ever melancholy, shadow on what you might eventually remember of me.
What will you remember of me, little ones?
Will it be the way I laughed, unabashed, at your silliness? Will it be the tears that well up in my eyes when I look at you, marvel at you, am awed by the depth of character you both possess? Will it be the way I rub your back in the mornings to wake you up or the "be all that you can be" messages I send you off to school with? Will it be the gun show? Will it be my voice cheering for you from the sidelines? Will it be trips to the beach and gelato in the cabana, the lazy days on the boat and Sundays picnics in the park?
Will it be those things? Or will it be... my sadness?
Oh, how I pray that it won't be! Oh, how I intend to make sure it will not be!
I'm different this year, little loves.
Sadness has had its time. Sadness has had its place. Sadness has taught me to grow. It has led me down avenues I might never have traveled and brought a depth to my life that I might never have experienced.
But sadness no longer belongs here. No longer will its darkness surround me. Its time is over. I know this now - as surely as I know that the sun will rise tomorrow and that money will not bring happiness and that every day God gives us a chance to start again. Fresh. Anew.
I'm different this year.
So different.
And because I am different, Mother's Day can no longer be about what I have lost. That would be wrong. No, this year, I'm choosing instead, consciously, thoughtfully, to make it about what I have. And what I have is much because what I have, very simply, is you.
And believe me when I tell you, there is nothing more I could possibly want in this whole entire world.
So, Happy Momo's Day to you, sweet ones. Happy Momo's Day to me! Thank you for being patient with me because heaven knows God is most definitely not finished with me yet. ;-)
Every ounce of my love times a gazillion or three,
Momo
ps. This in no way lets you off the hook on Sunday - you are both still going to church with me. Just saying. xoxoxo!
