Bittersweet is the word for today, May 7, 2011. If I said I was looking forward to it that would be a lie.
The week was ordinary enough with some fun on Wednesday for my daughter’s birthday. I enjoyed planning and preparing food for her party. It reminded me of how my Grandmother Bauer single-handedly made all of the food for her Christmas Eve Open House. The process is a lonely but extremely gratifying when the guests arrived. So it was with my small gathering. My refrigerator is now empty, not a leftover to be found.
By Friday I was ready for my work week to be over, to have free time and relax. Perhaps to draw or write or something to distract me. But in the back of my mind, I recognized my dread. Could even a bit of fear lay there unacknowledged?
When I arrived home last night, I walked Harrison and afterward I sat in my chair exhausted. Whether I was truly tired or dreaded the thought of today, I don't know. Thoughts can be funny that way. They linger and linger then fade away only to be revived at the oddest times.
I live in a great house, even if it isn't completely paid for. I have a good job and can get out of bed every day. My green thumb has been put to good use this spring. I have killed only one tomato plant. The elephant's food and strawberry plants are doing great, knock on wood. There is so much to be grateful for.
But, the weekend is bittersweet for me. Many people are looking forward to Mother's Day. I am not. This is my first Mother's Day weekend without Mom. And, today was her birthday.
Now I am not ready to hide in a closet and know I am certainly not the first person to experience loss. There are many people who never lived with their mothers, who didn't have a chance to spend most of their life with them. Or, unfortunately, their mothers were not like the kind, loving woman my mother was. But my thoughts turn to her often.
My eyes tear up as I remember the one year anniversaries of hospitalizations and doctor appointments. I realize this is a private journey with grief. My first year without my mother has its road bumps and I’ve hit a few curbs so far. Such as when I saw the Mother's Day card display and inadvertently headed to it wondering which one I would pick. I stopped flat in my tracks and headed the other direction. So how can I best explain how I feel about this weekend?
One of my hardest struggles is that so much of what I did - the writing, sharing family histories, and the genealogy - was just so much more fun with her. I miss the conversations we would have about each blog and the joy each memory or new discovery brought to her. I loved how she learned to use the arrows on the computer, but still had to ask me every time which key to push to scroll down to read the entry. Often I experience a writer's block because I realize I will no longer see or hear her response to my work. Of course, I do believe she knows what I write and what I do. But, to imagine her response is not the same as to witness it.
So, it is bittersweet. It is a beautiful spring day here. I will have breakfast at Liberty Market this morning, do errands and maybe jump in the swimming pool this afternoon. I will go through my day remembering her.
And in the late evening, I will sit on my patio and raise a toast of Kahlua Mudslide with milk to Mom and the time we had together. And do my best to keep writing.
