A day about mothers

Tomorrow, the 8th of May, is Mother's Day. Many people will be celebrating it with their moms, their grandmoms, their moms-to-be. But some of us, with none of those moms, will not be celebrating, but remembering.

Mom at East End Park in Houston Dec. 2009

This morning, when I got online, a woman I've worked with here had responded to an email I'd sent out about a conference call I'm arranging. Then she left a second email. The only way to show you is to provide the full text of the email:

Skye - Just letting you know as tomorrow approaches, you are in my thoughts and prayers this Mother's Day. Treasure your memories and know that your Mom is smiling on you and proud of all that you have become.
Sharmagne

I cried, of course. Sat here on the couch as tears poured down my face. It was the first time I let myself really think about this first Mother's Day without her, and the first time someone made a point of saying they were aware that this would be a difficult one. 

Sharmagne: you made it special again.

I know that last year my mom had a difficult time as her first Mother's day without Grandma. I felt sad because Gram was almost like a second mom to me in some ways and I almost always gave her a Mother's Day card, too. (The one time I forgot, boy did I get reminded!)

I suppose I could have sent flowers and a Mother's Day card to Mom's best friend, but I just couldn't. She's wonderful, and I can think of her as an aunt maybe, but she's not my mom. 

Mom and I didn't spend too many Mother's Days together because we lived at least a five hours' drive apart for most of my adulthood. One of the best things about moving to the coast was being able to spend every Mother's Day and every birthday with her. I treasure those times.

Mom and Grandma, their house

I don't have a digital version of Mom's graduation picture yet, but I will. She was gorgeous: all fluffy blonde hair and blue eyes (which you couldn't see because the pic is in black & white). She was so pretty. But I do have some pictures of her in the past few years. She hated them: she hated the weight she'd put on. She'd put it on because of loneliness, I think. First after her second husband died, then again after Gram died. 

Mom thought I was discounting her when I told her how difficult it would be, living without Gram. I told her she'd never lived completely alone before. When Dad died, she had me and Jimmy. When Jimmy died, her second husband was already living with her. When he died, I was living at the coast and I was with her nearly every single day and many evenings. Sometimes all she needed in the evening was for me to buy her another bottle of wine: her go-to comfort food. Sometimes I refused, but mostly I did it because she needed something and she'd never become addicted before. So she had me, she had Gram often, and she still had her dog. I think she discounted the difference between living alone with a dog and living alone. Then, just after her dog died, she moved Gram into live with her. Mom had never truly lived alone.

Several weeks after Gram died, Mom told me that I was right; she'd had no idea. She was so lonely it hurt. And she was eating ice cream --- lots and lots of ice cream. (She'd lost her taste for wine.)

So the pictures you see here are Mom much heavier than she wanted to be, but I honestly don't care. They are pictures of my mom. 

Mom, her house, don't know year

She started dyeing her hair red when she turned 67 and she liked her hair a lot darker than I like mine. That was the same year she bought herself a red Toyota Rav 4 and began dressing in brighter colors. She even stopped wearing beige ("Mom, you don't look good in beige. No one looks good in beige. Stop it."). 

I've taken some of her clothes and accessories, the ones that suit me. They all remind me of her. I've taken the jewelry that I love, much of which I gave her. The car was already in my name before she died --- it was almost the first thing she did when I went back last summer. I will always have things that remind me of her around me.

As we got older, Mom became one of my favorite people, and my best friend. My life is so much emptier and darker without, even tho' I know that won't last. But I will always miss her.

Sharmagne: thank you again for you kind note. Thank you for thinking of me and remembering. And thank you for making me cry over my mom.

Happy Mother's Day.