I did not know last Mother’s Day would be my mom’s last Mother’s Day. She wasn’t diagnosed until late June. Her disease was vicious and swift. No time for last anythings. When my dad died, we had lots of lasts, because though his prognosis was bleak, they were wrong. He outlived his six months by almost a year. My mom’s six months were only three.
I did not spend her last Mother’s Day with her.
In February or March, James Taylor concert tickets went on sale, and I bought them for Mother’s Day. We would have dinner and see her favorite performer at the END of May, so no need to spend the actual holiday together. She didn’t put tons of value on WHEN we saw each other anyway. No big deal. Our Mother’s Day was May 31st. A Tuesday. We had good food, good wine, and good music. I spent actual Mother’s Day with my own little munchkins. I don’t think they loved me more that day. I think they love me just the same every day.
This year, we have far too much to do, renovating one house and moving out of the other, to spend an entire day celebrating motherhood. I will be sad, but guess what? I’m sad every day. Not always on the surface, but it’s still very fresh. I won’t go out of my way to be extra sad because the calendar tells me to.
So, I don’t feel bad that I didn’t spend my mom’s last Mother’s Day with her. I spent other days with her, and she was my mom on every one of them. The day is nice, but it’s just not necessary. Don’t let it stress you out this weekend. Well, not any more than any regular Sunday with your family would at the very least ;-). Peace, Mamas.