The last time our 3 year old son saw my mother was on Mother's Day, May 12, 1974. It was in the hospital as she was struggling to recover from a variety of medical problems. But on this day, she was able to walk to a visiting area where we all sat down to visit. She was surrounded by everyone in our respective families who loved her. The picture of that day is indelibly etched in my mind's eye and I treasure it. I was pregnant with our second son at the time and I was so grateful that she knew another grandchild was on his way. She passed away on May 22nd, just eighteen days after my dad passed away, on May 4th.
So, Mother's Day presents conflicting emotions in me. It was difficult for years after her passing. But after a while, the difficulty gave way to enormous joy because I was the mother of two extraordinary sons and my happiness and pride knew no bounds.
Mothers can be incredible people. But I don't think it's necessary to set aside a day to celebrate them. It has been reduced to such a commercial holiday, driven by the flowers and gift industries to generate enormous amounts of money for these companies, a whole load of sadness for those who have lost their moms (or other special women who have made a wonderful impact on their lives), and a huge amount of guilt for those whose mothers didn't live up to the sappy verses on Mother's Day cards.
My sons give me love and tremendous joy all year round. I don't need a special day to feel what they so freely give all the time. Having said all this, I want to share, again, a blog I wrote about my mother on October 6, 2009. It is a love story of sorts. And it's one way I like to remember my mother, of blessed memory.