For some people Christmas is the hard holiday. For me it’s always been Mother’s Day.
I am pleased to say my birth daughter, my only child, found me … and that the hurt is healing. But I feel it is unlikely that the scar will ever go away. I am one of those girls who left the hospital with empty arms.
My own mother … she passed 11 years ago: on May 3. Her birthday was just before that: April 20. So Mother’s Day is the third remembering. Each year since her passing my ability to see the woman she was… to see her life as a whole … improves. I can remember her NOT sick. But instead, healthy and vibrant. Alzheimers steals the person. Not just from themselves but from the family too.
The last decade of her life she wasn’t sure who I was… she would look at me … and her eyes would shine.
My dad’s journey was different… I will celebrate him next month. First comes the first anniversary of his death. He knew me 98 percent of the time to the end. The last 6 weeks we were kept apart by Covid 19… he didnt die from it. He died because of it …
From being isolated. From not having the extra support provided by myself and by my loyal and caring staff. Yes. I hired additional support for him in the nursing home. Some of us need more than the system provides. He was one of those…
Six weeks … that’s how long it took for him to fade away … to let himself “sleep the big sleep” and join my mother.
Which brings us back to Mother’s Day.
Great big HAPPY to all you mom’s … without you, we wouldn’t be here!