In year’s past, I would join my sister at the lodge where my mother lived to celebrate Mother’s Day.
I’d take flowers, Jackie would probably have made mom some of her favourite food to share for lunch. Before mom could no longer climb in and out of the car, we would often have met at a restaurant, la grande famille including my daughter who lives in Calgary, to celebrate together.
This year is different. Hugs are virtual. Contact is distant. Restaurants are still closed. And, mom is no longer in this world.
Different doesn’t mean ‘bad’. It just means ‘not the same as before’.
Different also means, we have choice.
To squawk and balk at the presence of something new/unusual/different. To carry loss and sorrow like a burden or to let it flow like a river of Love healing the wounded, broken places.
I can not change the fact that life always finds itself ending in death. Like the snow falling outside my window as I type on this May morning, I cannot change it.
I can accept its presence with curiosity, an open mind and heart, seeking the beauty in what is appearing, finding value in the different so that I can live with grace in its presence in my life.
My mother took her last breath on February 25th. Our world changed that day.
It is a different world without her in it. I consciously stay away from judging it. It is what it is. Not good. Not bad. Different. Present.
Her leaving has created this space where today we get to experience our first Mother’s Day without her physical presence. She is always here. Always part of my DNA. Part of my memory. Part of my life.
It is a time for reflection. For gratitude. For grace.
And for remembering.
I am the woman, and the mother, I am today because of my mother.
I am the woman, and the mother, and grandmother, I am today because of my daughters.
I am forever grateful. Forever in Love.
Happy Mother’s Day to all.