The motherless mother

It’s the eve of Mother’s Day, a day that I have very mixed feelings about. On the one hand it feels very commercial and superficial yet when you have no mother it feels even more mixed. After all there is one to buy a cheesy card for and take out to dinner.Just reminders everywhere you go for what you no longer have, or maybe never even had in the first place.  For me there is the added burden that it was on a Mother’s Day that I broke my mother’s heart. It took years to repair the damage but now that she is no longer here even a sappy Hallmark infested day sends me into a quivering mess.

When my Mom first passed away, I was at an age where there were no other members in this new club that I found myself in; after all when you are barely 30 and your Mom is barely 50,the expectation is  that your Mom will be around. The early years were hard because I literally knew no other women in my age group who were motherless. Oh, I knew women who had rocky relationships with their Mom, hell they may have even wished their Mom was dead but in most cases unless there is serious dysfunction, most do like having dear ole Mom around.

Now as I start to dance towards 40 I have started to meet a few more women in this club, it’s a strange place to be. I think even more so when you have your own kids and see part of the life circle no longer in existence. Folks always ask  me or rather say “Well you have kids” as if somehow having my own kids takes away the pain and emptiness of no longer having a mother. Just as my kids are kids, in my mind’s eye I am still someone’s child except that one half of the duo that made my very life possible is no longer here and no matter what there will always be pain around the subject. Especially where I feel her life was cut short, after all 50 is too fucking young to die when no one prepared us instead we were led to believe she would be healed. So perhaps the reason I feel pain is because I never got closure on my terms.

So as I prepare to be treated well by my loved ones on Mother’s Day this post is for all the Moms who no longer have their babies and the babies (no matter their age) who no longer have their Mom’s. May you find peace on a day that sometimes feels like it’s all about cards and gifts yet the absence of the key players that make it Mother’s Day have you wanting to hide in the closet until Monday.

3 thoughts on “The motherless mother

  1. All sad and true. I first heard the term “club” from one of my favorite cousins who used the word when consoling me after my mom passed. I thought she’d made up the word, but seeing you use it, it’s either more common than I thought or great minds think alike. It’s most definitely a club where those who lost their mother can connect with others who have been there and really understand.

    My mom told me once to try not to miss her too much when she’s gone, and if I ever wanted to see her, just look at my daughter. That turned out to be true. It’s weird b/c she’s adopted but they do look like blood relatives, but more interestingly both have calm and stoic temperaments. It’s weird too, that at times my son reminds me of my late father; he’s got Dad’s dry humor down to a science and can mimic him perfectly, having gone fishing with him many times.

    Ah, the circle of life. Perhaps with luck, it will be full again in a way when we become grandmothers, eh?

    Wishing you a Sunday nice enough to create some beautiful new memories…

  2. I do wish you a Happy Mothers Day. My mother has had three strokes but by the grace of God she is still here and operating like normal. I try to take every opportunity to enjoy her before her time comes. I thank you for this post as we all should see time with our mother’s as precious times. Because one day they will not be here.

  3. *hugs* My mother is still living, but I don’t know what I would do without her. She is the one who raised me, since my so-called “father” skipped out on his responsibilities when I was two years old.

    I don’t know what it is like to lose a parent but I will say this…there are many people out there just like you who are still hurting. My mother is 54. She can definitely relate to your pain, because she is somebody’s little girl too.

    She lost her 6-year-old sister, my aunt, to a brain tumor in 1974. She moved from Maine to Florida in 1977. Her whole family stayed behind in Maine. Her father was killed in a car accident in 1981. She never had the chance to see him or to say goodbye. My grandmother passed away in 1996 after a sudden heart attack.

    Shay, you are significantly younger than my mother but this particular post reminds me of her. At 54, she still dreams about both parents, especially her mother. She still has times where she wants to be able to hear her mother’s voice. She misses Nana, my grandmother, more than anything.

    I agree with Dwight…it is very important to cherish our mothers because life is short. None of us can know how long we will be here.

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