Motherless Daughter

I got up this morning and said Happy Mother's Day, but there was no answer. No thank you for the card or present, only silence. There was no card or present today, because I am a Motherless Daughter. My Mother died 69 days 8 hours and 8 minutes ago. That's March 1, 2009, at 8:15 PM. The past couple of years since my Mother was sick, we have not had big Mother's Day celebrations. Last year, since my sister-in-law and younger nephew went up to the trailer to open it up and my older nephew was at his girlfriend's house, my brother brought over some ribs that he had barbecued. We heated them up and made some sides. (He asked about a vegetable and did not believe me that baked beans were a vegetable until Mom said so.) It was a nice quiet day. We did not know that it would be our last Mother's Day. Yesterday I was at a workshop for Motherless Daughters. We didn't so much morn our Mother's passing but shared our memories and thoughts about our Mothers. It doesn't matter how long ago you Mother died, you still miss her, as I found out from those who had lost their Mother's years ago. At one point we sat at tables with large blank sheets of paper. When looking closely you could see a circle drawn and we were asked to draw anything we wanted in the circle or outside of it. I cannot draw, at least nothing that anyone can decipher. I did draw a stick figure with a big smile and a heart next to it. Underneath I had an oxygen tank and a walker along with another stick figure that was bent over, my Mother died of complications of osteoporosis. I do like to think that my Mother is now up in heaven straight and tall and, since she hated the oxygen and walker, she is now free of them. The last thing she said to all of us is that we would always be in her heart. Sounds nice, doesn't it? The actual last thing she said directly to me, as I used the stick with the sponge on the end to moisten her mouth, was get that thing out of my mouth. Thanks, Mom.

It was hard this morning, but the hardest thing was for the first time I realized that my Mother was dead. It's not that I did not realize it before now. In my head I knew it, but there was always that feeling like it wasn't real. Like I would wake up or come home and she would be there. That the message on my phone at work was from her. That when I was out, I had to either call her or go home to make sure she was alright. This morning it was real. My Mother is not coming back. When I was out shopping I did not have the feeling that I had to hurry home to check on her. I didn't have to go into the living room and stand by her chair and let her know where I was or what was going on out in the world and then see that she wasn't there. Do I want the old feeling back that it is not real? No, I don't want to go through the pain of this morning again. I am just praying that she will still be by my side, that little voice whispering in my ear as to what to do. Telling me to look here for this or that, or when things look bleak to say the rosary and then tell me that everything will be OK. I don't want to lose that feeling.

As I thought of how I could honor my Mother today, I thought of what she always asked for, not a present or card, by our time. Just to spend some of it with her. Of course, I now feel that I never did spend enough time with her. I looked around to see what would make her happy if she was here. The one thing that bothered her as she got older and weaker, was that she could not keep the house as clean as she wanted. So today, I washed the dishes that I had let pile up, washed the counters, sorted through all mail that I had thrown on the kitchen table. And I promise you, Mom, you won't be ashamed of the house if anyone comes over. I am going to keep it clean. To all the Motherless Daughters and Sons out there, if you think you can no longer to anything for your Mother because she is no longer with you, just look around and think about what is was that your Mother held precious and do that in her memory. It won't make the pain go away, but you may feel a little better.

Tonight I am also going to make our usual Sunday night dinner, brats and french fries. I even bought the coleslaw you liked, Mom, GrandPa's. And after dinner tonight, I will make my self a cup of tea and have a little desert and wish you a Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Thank you for all you have given me. I love you.