Surviving Mothers Day
Mothers Day. A day to celebrate all of the incredible things the mummies of the world do every day, a day to sing the praises of that incredible lady that carried you around for 9 whole months, dried your tears when you fell over in the playground, taught you how to bake a cake and advised you on the perils of boyfriends in your teenage years.
The lady that told you off for being horrible to your siblings, made you cringe when she wanted to be a little too involved in the details of your love life but equally, made you properly laugh more than anyone else ever has.
What does Mother's Day mean when you don't have that wonderful lady around to celebrate it with? It's hard not to get angry when all you're faced with is tv adverts, floral supermarket displays and 'don't forget Mothering Sunday!' stamps on your post. Harder still not to get jealous of everyone else that has their mum at the end of the phone.
Since July 2010, I've spent the weeks from Valentines Day to mid March dreading doing the weekly shop or just popping into town knowing that the very word 'Mum' will be printed on everything from banners to teddy bears. Newspapers will be filled with inspirational mum stories, restaurants with Mothers Day menus and shops with the types of card that would make her a little teary eyed before being safely stowed away in a memory box.
Knowing that my Mother's Day card would have nowhere to go and any flowers I bought would have to sit atop a gravestone is harder than I ever could have contemplated. I'm not the only person in the world that's facing this big old world of growing up without their mum, I'm one of billions for whom the thought of Mothers Day is tangled up with bitter sweet memories.
A mum is a figure that no matter how much you think you do already, you will never fully appreciate until they aren't there anymore. Until you realise silly things like the fact that you never got around to asking her to write down her famous pie recipe or the fact that with just the smell of certain beauty products, you're instantly transported to being cross legged on her bedroom floor intently watching her apply her make up.
There are moments that will hit you and you realise that you won't have her there to help choose a wedding dress, to calm pre-wedding jitters, to celebrate your first proper job, your first child or your first house. It's those kind of thoughts that make days like today the hardest.
I'm incredibly lucky that I had my amazing mum for as long as I did. Luckier still that my parents surrounded themselves with a little network of very special ladies who have become my little band of adopted mummies so even though my real one isn't around, I've got plenty of people I can call for a much needed mumma-chat.
You might be asking yourself why, if I find Mother's Day so hard, have I dedicated a whole post to it. Primarily, because there are people all over the country who today will be facing their first Mothers Day without their leading lady, two in particular close to myself, and I just wanted to extend a bit of a virtual hug.
For those of us that don't have the option, thank your mum. Tell her how much you appreciate her, how much she inspires you, makes you laugh, annoys the hell out of you sometimes. It's little moments like that, silly seconds in time that you will carry with you always.
To all the mums out there in all of their guises, you're doing an amazing job and if, in the future, I can be just half the mum my own was, I'll consider my life well spent.
To all the mums out there in all of their guises, you're doing an amazing job and if, in the future, I can be just half the mum my own was, I'll consider my life well spent.
I am so grateful that I just stumbled across this post. It's so perfect and pretty much says everything I've ever thought about Mother's Day. It's so heartbreaking walking through the town seeing the countless beautiful gifts and cards that are just waiting to be bought and given to deserving mums, it's so tough to see all these beautiful things and have no one to buy them for, to not be able to show your mum how much you love her. I often find myself standing staring at all the cards, imaging what one I would have bought, if only I had the chance. A wave of sadness comes over me, a longing for things to be different. It's never easy getting through Mother's Day when your motherless but I've starting trying to remember the happy times to celebrate, instead of being sad. You're so brave for posting this as well, I've always considered writing about my own experience but it's never been something I've had the courage to share. Maybe one day I will.
ReplyDeleteYou're photos are also so lovely, your mum was really beautiful. I'm sure she would have loved this post <3
Nicole xxx / Life in Ginger