Just so you know: I’m not even going to try to write coherently today. It’s my daughter’s birthday. In a week it will be Mother’s Day. And all I can think, every minute of the day and night now, is how I wish I could get back the joy of those days when Marika was alive.
She loved singing, being near water, Australia, sushi, and carrot cake. And the dog I inherited. So I’m singing to the full moon, hiking with the dog, raking algae from the pond, and eating sushi and cake. All the things I gifted her, the pedicures, the shopping sprees, dinners out with friends … I am now gifting myself.
A card she gave me on May 9, 2010 says, “Mom happy mother’s day! IOU one lunch out @ your choice of restaurant! Always, Marika.”
It’s because she wrote, “Always.” She drew a heart around the middle of the word. That’s why, four years after her death and for as long as I can chew, I will eat lunch out on Mother’s Day.
Maybe I’ll even buy flowers.
Taking bets: Will my son call me for Mother’s Day or not? Will I remember to phone my own mother before midnight on Sunday? How will you deal with Mother’s Day?
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Sending you love, Robin. Such a loaded time of year for you. The feeling comes through clearly. I love that you take yourself out for Mother’s Day. Marika would approve, I imagine. I told my sons not to send flowers because I’m surrounded by them outside. Will they call? The married one will. The younger one? We’ll add his name to the same category as your son.
My hardest Mother’s Day obligation is Vic’s mom. I bought her a huge bright bouquet and a mushy card I signed with everyone’s name, including Vic’s (with large letters that she still couldn’t read because of blindness). She seemed genuinely touched. Fortunately she’s having lunch at her residence where they do something fancy, so I don’t need to take her out. I hope to spend time outside in the gardens as a gift to me.
Hi Elaine. I hope you got to spend time in the gardens yesterday. It was hot but so beautiful out. It must be difficult to deal with Vic’s mom on these days. But the “boys” calling – well, it’s so great to hear from these sons. Mine did call. He caught me in the middle of the woods on a hike. I imagine you with your cell phone in the garden, surrounded by fresh blooms, smiling at the sound of a son who remembered to call home. I hope your day was wonderful. Cheers!
Hi Robin,
Happy Mother’s Day! If I am up to it on Sunday (or close to it), I will be glad to have lunch with you Sorry to confess, but I spent a day in the hospital this week and am trying to recover from it now (Wednesday). Old Jalopies frequently need checkups and tuneups and admonitions to the tune of “Neither a gourmand nor a gourmet be.” I’ll give you a call as soon as I get my head cleared and some energy back.
Lots of love and a big hug. Annette.
Uh, you were right here in the hospital just a mile up the road from me and you didn’t call me? Okay, I’m thinking, she must have been in the hospital in Utica or she would have phoned. Can’t wait to hear more about your misadventure. And scold you in person for not letting me know so I could visit with you while you were in my neighborhood. Thanks for responding here though. Feel better soon. Calling you later when you oughta be up and running.
“Oh my God,” I murmured with the pain inside my chest, always that little squeeze to my heart, with your words, “how I wish I could get back the joy of those days when Marika was alive.” Yes. Those days of that sweet peaceful joy inside even the smallest crease of my life are gone. Forever.
Robin, I’ve got a lovely little shell around me, most of the time. Every day is much like the last or the next. I’ve worked hard to put no emphasis on the days that are marked “special.” It’s good and it’s bad because my joy meter doesn’t dip to far either way. This morning mostly I’m pissed off. PS I take no medications 🙂
I just went off to make another coffee. Robin, you are right to celebrate Mother’s Day the way you would if Marika were still alive. That is living a life she would be proud of.
I’m not working today. The sun is beautiful and bright. My horse has new shoes. I’m going riding. I’ll be working on Mother’s Day. My oldest son will call at some point. Might be a day late but that’s OK.
Hugs Robin.
Hi Susan. It doesn’t matter if or when you celebrate the holidays. I think you have it right by celebrating Your Self. Going riding, cleaning the windows so the world outside shines, spraying the horse ’til it’s happy and free of the flies, not working on a sunny day,… you take in the good stuff when it’s there and you can. And some days maybe you don’t get out of bed until dinnertime. If it doesn’t make you manic between the highs and the lows, it can still be beautiful. And yow, your life in BC, in the hills and valley, with horses, sounds beautiful. Mostly. Cheers!
I remember the first Mother’s Day after I moved to Ithaca in 2000. My daughter suggested a picnic in the park with her and her two young children–my grandchildren.
I still regret that I didn’t take her up on that offer because I wanted to watch the final of a women’s tennis match on TV!
The grandchildren are grown now. Not sure I’ll even see them on Mother’s Day!
Yes, looking back there are so many things we would change if we could. I hope you get to catch up with your grandchildren soon. They get to be so busy and so far away just like we were at their ages, going off in all directions and collecting all sorts of things to have regrets about later. Whoa – depressive disorder showing- where’s the Xanax? Thanks, Lynne.