I had grand plans this year to celebrate my mom friends and family. Nothing extra special, but I wanted to acknowledge the moms who are close to me; my sister who has been showing her children what inner strength, drive and determination look like, my sister-in-law who has shown her sons love, support and stability, my stepmother (who I often affectionately refer to as my Dad’s wife, simply because they have only been married 5 years, long after I became an adult), who we love having in our family and whose own daughter lives halfway around the world and she is disconnected from and my mother-in-law who wears her heart on her sleeve, loves her grandchildren with every bit of her soul and who is caring for her own mother in a way only a daughter could. I intended on sending personal cards and/or flowers. I had the best of intentions of mailing cards to mom friends who are far away, but never far from my heart. Whose children I wish I saw more often and had a stronger bond with, but who I love just the same. I used to be so good at mailing cards on birthdays and anniversaries. I prided myself on my frequent shopping trips to Hallmark and my stash of cards always ready to be sent.
Instead, a week or so ago I was shopping and stopped in the card section taking a moment to find the perfect cards. I had a “grandma” card in my hand and just when my tear ducts were full I put it back. There were no “Grammy” cards, just “Grandma”. My mom insisted on being called just “Grandma”, not Grandma Marilyn, Grandma Oshman, Granny Bubbe, etc. from the time I was pregnant with her first grandchild. For awhile it hurt when anyone referred to my mother-n-law as Grandma; especially after my mom died in June of 2009. While returning the card to its holder like it was on fire I thought, “I wish I could send this card to my kids’ Grandma”. It was at that moment I left the store and returned my thoughts to what has gotten me through the past seven Mother’s Days…..thinking as positively as possible, thinking about my own role as mom to two wonderful, respectful, compassionate children who I love with all my heart. During that first Mother’s Day without my mom in 2010 I changed my perception about what the “holiday” meant, it was no longer to celebrate/focus on my mom (although she is NEVER far from my thoughts on the second Sunday in May), instead it was to reflect on my own role as a mom. I have planted flowers in her memory and “sprinkled” her ashes, not once but twice on this day over the years, all while trying to think about this day being mine.
Also, never far from my thoughts on this day is my Nanny, my dad’s mother who I often went with him to visit on this day. She would ask me, “Why are you here, I’m not your mother!?” I would reply by saying, “If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have been born.” My own mom never had a problem sharing part of this day with her. The difference between her and my mom is that Nanny was 97 years old when she died and my mom was only 64.
My husband sent his mom a beautiful flower arrangement and my day was scattered with sending and receiving Mother’s Day texts, but no cards were sent and no flowers were ordered by me. I felt loved and appreciated by kids and my husband, thoughts of my mom danced their way through my day and all in all it was a wonderful day.
There’s always next year, maybe then, but probably not.
