Mothers' Day

Dear Mom,

This morning, I wanted to call and wish you a happy Mothers' Day but couldn’t. I wanted to send you flowers but didn’t have your address. You never liked this day much and urged us not to make a fuss, but, now that you’ve gone, I’ve never wanted to fuss more. I just don’t know how to reach you. 

If I kneel beside my bed and whisper your name, will you hear me? If I wander into church and sit in your pew, will you come and join me? If I wander up a mountain, can I climb my way closer and reach my hand in the sky for you to hold? Or, maybe, I could walk to the ocean’s edge and touch the sea. Will the small ripples I make travel beyond the horizon to the shore where you stand?

It’s a beautiful day here. I sat behind a girl and her mother this morning in church. During the sermon, the daughter leaned into her mother who tickled her daughter’s arm. The lines outside restaurants were adorned with flowers and colorful hats, and brothers and sisters were on their best behavior as families strolled the neighborhood. They even let their moms win at front-yard games.

It made me a little jealous and a little sad, but I kept reminding myself not who I’d lost, but who I was given. That helped.

Happy Mothers' Day.

Love,

Me