You never get over losing your mother, you miss her for the rest of your days.
There’s a heaviness to Mother’s Day. What is meant to be a day of appreciation often comes with expectations and emotion — both good and bad. For those of us who are without our mothers, Mother’s Day looms larger than ever. I can feel the anchor drop the second I turn over the calendar.
I don’t know how to act…especially when I still feel so numb. I would imagine this doesn’t make me much fun to be around. The holiday used to mean that I didn’t have to cook (silly, but a big deal to me)! Mother’s Day was handmade cards and cookouts. It was flowers at church. It was the exchange of joyous texts. It was a phone call with my Mom where we both celebrated each other.
To make things worse, I feel guilty for feeling like this. It doesn’t honor my Mother’s memory to be sad on what is supposed to be a day of celebration. It’s not fair to my kids to have to try to cheer me up on “my day.”
There’s no shortcut here. It’s been two years and it still feels just as bad. Self-care gurus tell you that it’s ok to have all the feelings. Good advice since I can’t seem to stop them.
It’s been said a million times, so I’ll join the chorus — love your mother while you can.
Hold tightly to what is good. Romans 12:9
Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.