Does it have to come every year? Can’t we skip a year here and there just to even the score for those of us who are motherless?
Unfortunately, just as Valentines Day can be painful if you’re single, here comes Mother’s Day. That annual day each year when we are acutely reminded of what we have lost. Not just on that Sunday, mind you, but for weeks leading up to it. As soon as the Mother’s Day commercials start. Those sappy commercials showing mothers and daughters enjoying time together are about to hit the airwaves. The mother getting that special card and then, with that teary eyed look that says, “I love you more than anything, daughter,” she smiles and hugs her lovely adult daughter. The music playing in the background from an open jewelry box. Ah, Mother’s Day.
This year we will be having our annual Motherless Daughter’s Day Luncheon on May 3rd. The weekend before Mother’s Day. We gather every year around this time to honor our mothers who have passed and to give each other support during this difficult time of year. We will hear Julie Buxbaum speak, reconnect with each other, get and give lots of hugs and get fortified to face the world again. To be with other women who know what it’s like to have gone through that most painful passage is profoundly healing.
To end our luncheon, we have our Circle of Remembrance Ceremony. We stand in a big circle, hold hands and one by one say, “Irene, daughter of Selma.” “Roni, daughter of Helen.” “Hope, daughter of Marcia….” until we have gone around the entire circle. The power of that experience is almost impossible to put into words. If there is life after death and there is a way to look down on this life from the other side, I have no doubt all of our mothers are in that room with us, smiling that teary eyed smile that says, “I love you more than anything, daughter.”
I am still surprised how much I miss my Mom. She died when I was seven, 43 years ago, and I still miss her.
Not long ago I was sitting in the busy waiting area at the hair salon. I picked up a Glamour Magazine and started reading an article about Susan Sarandon. She was talking about what it was like to be a Mom to her teenage daughter who was 17 at the time. She said her daughter had her head on straight and was strong and that her job now was just to be there to catch her if she falls. That line made me so very sad. I had no one to catch me when I fell. No one. I felt the tears coming up (I hate when that happens in public), welling, dripping…
“Irene, are you ready?” my hairdresser said.
“Sure.”
“Are you OK?” she noticed the tears.
“Yeah, I was just reading a moving article.”
“Really, what was it about?” she innocently asked.
“If I start talking about it, I’ll start crying again so why don’t we talk hair and fashion instead.”
Do you have missing mom moments? I’d love to hear about them. Feel free to leave comments and let’s get the conversation going.
Best Regards,
Irene
Hi Motherless Daughters,
Welcome to the new blog feature on the website where I will be posting regular motherless daughter related blogs that will be open for your comments. I’d like to start a dialog so we can connect online. This one is very short just to test it out.
I look forward to seeing you all at the Motherless Daughter’s Day luncheon and Circle of Remembrance Ceremony on May 3rd.
More blogs to come.
Best Regards,
Irene