Mother’s Day. Sigh.
It is — at least in the United States — Mother’s Day. My friend posted this New Yorker essay on Facebook, and it so perfectly captures the feelings we may have about this day. It’s about losing your mother, but I think many of the words also work for those whose children aren’t here:
It’s nothing, I tell myself. A day for advertisers. So I shrug off the sales and the offers, the cards and the flowers. I press delete. Still, I now mark Mother’s Day on my private calendar of grief. Anyone who has experienced a loss must have one of those.
Private calendar of grief. The days that mean something only to you, mixed in with the days that you acknowledge in a very different way from the rest of the crowd.
And this moment:
Every now and then, I try to recall what went through my mind as I was standing in that hallway, crying my heart out. (And if you think that the cliché can’t be real—well, then, you’re lucky.)
Even different kinds of loss sometimes hold moments in common.
*******
I lucked out at the library. I walked in on Wednesday, and Normal People by Sally Rooney was on the new release shelf. I had been waiting for it to come out for months. When I finally thought to put my name down on the hold list at the library, I was number 300-something on the list, and that was weeks before the release. Such anticipation.
So I’ll read today. I’ll buy coffee; grind it at the store. I’ll celebrate my mother — I am so lucky that I have her in my life.
Sending good thoughts to anyone who is having a hard day today. May you find time to slip into the library. Find the right book waiting for you on the shelf.
5 comments
I lost my mother last year in March so this is my second motherless Mother’s Day. Mama was not really holiday oriented. Birthdays meant more to her than “made up” holidays.
My heart goes out to those who are waiting and praying to become Mothers. It’s so hard and not too many people acknowledge the pain of being a member of that particular group.
I spent four years in that group. Adoption made me a “mother” but I always felt like I didn’t really belong. I was a member of the club, but somehow missed the initiation. It’s been over 50 years and I still feel that way.
My two adopted boys are different as night and day. I live with the younger, but the older is estranged. So I accept what I have and let go of the things I can’t change.
I wish the happiest day possible for all the women waiting to be mothers—by whatever means. Saying special prayers for your special intentions.
Beautiful thoughts on grief, I really like that idea of the private calendar. I had a nice brunch for my mom, who didn’t ask how I was feeling today, but otherwise was lovely. I also received several texts from friends letting me know they were thinking of me today, which was unexpected and very much appreciated. There’s less sting in the day for me today, which is nice.
I love that the book you were waiting for magically presented itself to you at the library, like a cosmic gift.
On mother’s Day I went to a yoga class I always do sunday, and the street the studio is on, a busy urban area, was blocked to traffic for a fun run. As I walked back to my car the mother’s day fun-runners were running down the road in the opposite direction from me. It was a sort of eerie feeling this unusually quiet morning with no cars… and the swarm of people running in an opposite direction from me I felt a bit like a metaphor for how I feel on mother’s Day… just walking my own path while many others are in the crowd leading the usual socially sanctioned life as I watch in a bit of bewilderment
It sounds like you had some wonderful little gifts on Sunday. I guess mine was similar. We were on the road and I got some reading time in. And we made it home safely. And I got to be with people I love.
Thanks for sharing that, it was a beautiful essay. <3
How was "Normal People"? I waver between wanting to buy & read it now, & waiting for the paperback, lol. 😉