Give Thanks...For The Love Of A Mother And A Daughter

I didn't realize until later, but something happened, or, didn't happen on Friday, July 1st this year. You see, every year on 7/1 I would see a post on Facebook. Sometimes this post was expected, sometimes it was a surprise. Two days ago, someone else posted the reminder...

And it floored me.

You see, since 2007 on July 1st, I would pull up Facebook and a post from my sister would remind me of my mother's passing. She died fifteen years ago, July 1st, 2007, and my sister never forgot it. Each year on the anniversary, my sister would post a photo and include a heart-felt message to the one person in her life she loved more than anyone, the one person who she missed with her entire being, the one person she wished more than anything she could once again hold her hand and hug and talk to about life.

This year, I didn't see a post from my sister. She was unable to post a photo or include a heart-felt message. She could not express publicly how much she missed her mom. No, this year, the pain was doubled. This year, my sister's daughter had to post something from a year ago, the last time my sister could acknowledge just how wonderful a woman our mother was. This year it was my niece's turn to mourn.

For as long as I live and as long as social media continues to exist, I know my sister's daughter will do the same thing to her mother that my sister did for her's. She'll post a message of love, of sadness, of wishing the two could be together again. I'm grateful for traditions, of letting others know just how much each means to the other...too bad some of those expressions must come after one...or two...of them are gone.

Post Mother's Day Post...

 Yesterday, I like millions of others, I perused various social media sites. Because it was Mother's Day, almost all those posting on the day could be classified into two camps:

Those with mothers still alive...

And those with mothers no longer here.

Of course, most of my older friends and contacts were in the second camp, my younger friends in the first. The above picture is from my niece's Facebook post. She finds herself a young person wishing she could spend the day--or at least, speak with her mother--on Mother's Day...a young person mourning a fallen parent.

Last year, my niece's mother posted about her own mother who had passed on. I know this without checking her previous posts because my sister always posted on holidays (especially Mother's Day...) about how much she missed her mom. My niece's mother is also my sister which means, of the two camps, I reside in the latter.

To those who have mothers no longer with us, I understand. I did not make a call yesterday. I did not break bread with her or my siblings or her grandkids. I did not find a gift to give or a card. To those in our camp, the day is bittersweet. We cherish the memories and our hearts hurt because of those memories.

The other camp, those who have their mothers available for calls and gifts and visits, I wondered as I read their incredible and amazing tributes just how quickly those in the first camp can find themselves in the second. Depending on the circumstances, some know with certainty that this will be the last Mother's Day, others might suspect it could happen. And some have no idea that the call they placed or the gift they gave or the visit they made will be the last time they'll be able to do this.

As a person who has lost both my mother and father, I've always said, if you live long enough, you'll attend at least two funerals, one for mother and one for father. In a year, God-willing, I'll find myself surfing through the posts of my friend. There's a good chance someone will post--like my niece did yesterday--about how this will be the first Mother's Day without their mom and how different it will be. Hopefully those new members of the second camp will have few if any regrets.

Missing Mom On Mother's Day...

The older I get, the more my friends go through the same thing I did eleven years ago. 

The day - Mother's Day, 2008.

That was the first time in my life I spent Mother's Day without my mom. Sure, I had been away from her on a couple of those Mother's Days, but that Sunday in May of 2008 no plane could have taken me to her, no car or train or boat could bring us together. She passed eleven months earlier.

And because of social media, I can keep in touch with thousands of friends, and millions of strangers expressing the love and appreciation for their mothers, grandmothers, wives and sisters. Personally, I love reading all the posts--even from those I don't know--of regular people telling one of the most important people in their life how much they love them.

Social media allows us to see the good things that happen to people, but we also get to share their pain and heartache. This year, millions will log on and tell a story how this year is different, this Mother's Day has forever changed for them and their family. Because this year, their mother, their matriarch, their rock, is gone, and they face a day full of unknowns. They've never had a Mother's Day where they can't visit, call, or send a card with flowers. They can't sit down and share a meal or remember a childhood memory.

And they never will again.

Saying goodbye at a funeral service is tough, sometimes unbearable. But, the heart heals as the realization of life is accepted. Then, comes the holidays and you get kicked in the gut again. And when the holidays that center around the person--even celebrating the person gone--it's even tougher.

For all of you missing your mom for the first time, to those who can't call or laugh or hug the woman who loved you for a million reasons, or just because you were you, I pray you'll be comforted, I pray for peace. May you remember those beautiful women forever in your hearts. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Hope you had a wonderful day.