Surviving Mother's Day

Last year my siblings and I celebrated our first motherless Mother's Day. Mom died the day before Thanksgiving the year before--after telling us she didn't want to die on a holiday. I wonder at times what that might feel like, knowing death is imminent and having no say-so as to when it happens, other than willing yourself to not let go on a holiday. Perhaps making one final motherly act of love: Saving your children from having to dread a holiday associated with their own mother's passing.

But here's Mother's Day again. A day that will forever be a reminder that she's not here. And so we will celebrate as best we can.

My amazing mom at the age of 25! Can you imagine? Three children at 25?

A few years ago I let my own kids off the hook when my February birthday rolled around without much fanfare. I said they didn't have to make a big deal out of my birthday because I had already passed milestones worth commemorating--16, 21, 30, 40 ... (I'll reconsider if I make it to 100.) But I did expect some attention on Mother's Day. My thinking is, every day I do something that contributes to my role as their mother. My birthday? I pretty much just inhale/exhale to get there.

This week, my girl asked me what event might have prevented her from being born. It was a fairly weighty question given we were en route from school to home, but I gave it a bit of thought before telling her that any number of situations could have circumvented her conception. We talked about the sheer science behind her chosen egg/sperm combo, and that had Dad been out of town or we hadn't been 'affectionate' toward each other that day, she wouldn't have been conceived.

I went back in time even farther to tell her that my dad, as a kid, had helped his cousin peer into an automobile's gas tank--by lighting a match! Luckily for the pair, the tank was empty although he did remember a whoosh! as the flame and fumes collided. My mother once recalled a rainy walk home from school when she stepped into an open drain she couldn't see and caught her skinny self by her elbows. Had she fallen through, she likely would have drowned.

If we stop and consider any 'sliding door' event along the path from our birth to conceiving our own children, we realize the incredible miracle it is that we mothers have our children here at all. And to me, the only thing worse than spending Mother's Day without a mother is one spent after losing a child--an unfathomable scenario three very close friends of mine will be living through this Mother's Day.

So, mothers, tell your children they're the greatest gift God has given you and, if you happen to be so lucky to still have your mother in your life, tell her she's also the greatest gift God gave you. Both are true. So, so true.

Happy Mother's Day, my friends!