amongst the clickers on Bigjolly have noticed that I said nary a word about Mothers Day, other than mentioning that I sent SU some flowers. Why is that, they ask? Well, to be honest, it never really entered my mind. Sad, but true.
Mothers Day to me is more about lost opportunities than about memories. Sure, I do have memories, but they aren’t many and they aren’t bright, as though they too have faded with the photographs of her. Fortunately, the memories are all positive, the one area that doesn’t quite fit in my negative memory theories. Such as her having to come to the high school every day to pick me up because my hair touched my ears, griping about the stupid policy as she went. Or when she was learning how to drive, she must’ve been in her early or mid-forties. Or pulling her backwards in her rocking chair and making her laugh. Or the note she put in my suitcase as I left for the Marines and the audible sigh of relief when I called her and told her I didn’t pass the physical and would be coming home. Or the smile as she sat in front of the fireplace at our first house even as her body was riddled with cancer. My wife holding her hand and combing out her hair.
No, Mothers Day is a reminder to me of what could have been. My two daughters never knowing my mother. Of her missing the opportunity to experience life without the responsibility of raising children. Of her being free to visit museums, parks, shopping without worrying too much about money or maybe just helping her grandaughters make a paper butterfly. Or spending time with her husband, free to travel on short junkets at a moments notice. You know, the stuff that should be the reward for the early parts of motherhood, the part where you have no time of your own, it belongs to your family.
So perhaps it is easier for me to not think about it, just to pretend that I don’t have any feelings about it. Isn’t that the way to deal with pain and loss?