Reflections on Mother's Day

It's been a challenging week for me this week. Monday would have been my mom's birthday, today, May 5th, marks the 3rd anniversary of her death, and this coming Sunday, May 8, Mother's Day, the date we buried her ashes. I've had a couple of meltdowns, though not nearly as bad as I've had in the past, and I hope that once the weekend is over I'll have a little perspective that I don't have right now.

You see, Mom and I were pretty tight when she was well. She had Alzheimer's Disease, which is the most hideous of diseases in my mind, so the last several years of her life were plagued with worry and anxiety for her safety. Mom didn't make terrific choices at that time in her life, and she often needed one her kids to run interference for her. She never believed that she was confused, of course, which made for some rip-snorting exchanges. But when she was more oriented, she was the mom I grew up with. And there were times when, no matter how confused she was, she was able to connect with me. I'm an avid knitter and crocheter, so I always had something going. I brought my projects to her to show off, and sometimes when I was knitting I'd ask her how to do something. I really knew how to do whatever stitch or pattern that I asked about, but her face would light up like a Christmas tree when I would ask her to help me. And ironically, most of the time, she told me the right things.

Thinking back to when I was a kid, I remember random things and they all make me smile through the tears. Mom wasn't the "let's bake cookies together" or "want to try some of my make-up" type, nor would we share clothing between us (she was a tiny thing and I was more like Brumhilda). But she loved to shop, and every Saturday we'd go into town and look in all the stores for bargains. Most of the time we didn't buy much - she usually bought stockings (the long ones that required garters and a girdle) and we would go to lunch together, but for the most part we just did people watching. We'd look around in the stores for unusual people - Mom called them "creeps" - and if they were really outrageous, we'd get the giggles. And by the giggles, I mean the deep-down, full belly laughs that would bring tears to our eyes. We always had a signal that we used when we simply could not look at one another because we would embarrass ourselves and the target of our levity. I would walk away to another department and she would come after me about 10 minutes later. Silently, we would leave the store and the giggles would start again once we got into the car. One time we were walking along the Main Street and she saw a man wearing a 3-piece suit walking in the opposite direction. She started to laugh right away and I didn't know why until he got closer to us. This guy was singing "Old MacDonald" and he was barefoot. Incidentally, this happened in November, between Veteran's Day and Thanksgiving.

Mom loved decorating the house for Christmas; the day after Thanksgiving, all the bags and boxes came out and villages went up and ornaments hung from doorways. The stocking elves took their places on the top of the piano, and eventually the tree went up. I remember her wandering about in the house as we grew up and thinking she was a little daft for flooding the house as she did with the decorations. After my dad died, she no longer had the same enthusiasm for decorating but she did make sure the house looked festive.

And of course, her children and grandchildren were the greatest joys of Mom's life. Everything we all did saw Mom there cheering us on and celebrating everything we did. She loved spoiling her grandchildren and wouldn't take them shopping without buying something for them - even just a pack of gum.

So this Mother's Day, take a minute and remember your mom, whether she is alive or not. No mom is perfect, and mine sure wasn't, but she's your mom and she carried you for nine months. Even if you can't be with her this year, think of her and whisper a prayer for her. I know I will.