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When Mother’s Day is a Reminder of What We’ve Lost

Each holiday we celebrate one special person over all others. This celebration can be joyfully blissful or agonizingly painful. At times, oftentimes, it is harshly bitter and simultaneously sweet.

Mother’s Day can be a painful reminder of loss

To the woman still reeling from the loss of her own mother a handful of years ago, you are loved. Your pain and loss is a reminder of the blessing you experienced in relationship with your most sacred soulmate on earth. It is okay to remember the good times. To have a private talk with that sweet woman that selflessly shaped you into the amazing woman you are today. Mother’s Day is a painful reminder of what you have lost.

I pray you find peace and joy in the closest of bonds that often surpasses the earthly realm. May you feel your Mother’s spirit tightly embracing your own on this, and every day forward.

To the woman who has struggled with fertility, miscarriage or not being in a situation to give birth to her overwhelming dream of being a mother. My heart goes out to you. I know the feeling of heartbreaking loss, unrequited desire and devastating sadness. My prayer is that you do not give up. Your heart’s desire will be fulfilled in some beautifully, unimaginable and fatefully destined way.

Mourn your losses and unfulfilled dreams. Then, look forward to life’s healing, often surprising, way of turning those losses into blessings beyond belief.

To the man, two sisters and one brother that lost their mother in what should have been the prime of her life. Still raising her own children with three young grandbabies lying in wait for the love only a Grandmother can provide. With five grandchildren yet to enter the world, never having the chance to know this beloved woman.

To these precious few, I say I am sorry. I am sorry your mother was taken when you needed her most. I am sorry you have lived year after year partially dreading this holiday because it is a reminder that you cannot spend it with the one person on earth you desire. I am sorry that words are empty and hollow when the heart is grieving. I am sorry that grief never truly ends.

To you, I say Thank You. Thank You for telling stories about an amazing woman the world was blessed to know. Thank you for living lives that would make her smile with the pride only a mother can feel. Thank you for allowing the memory of your mother to live on in your teaching, your thoughts, words, deeds and beliefs. Thank you for honoring your Mother every day she was alive and every day since she went to her eternal home. Mostly, Thank You for believing, for knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt, where she is today. And that one day, Mother’s Day will not be a painful reminder, but a joyful reunion.

Above all, gratefulness

To the woman who gets to spend Mother’s Day with her beloved mother. To you, I say, drink it all in. Every single second. Embrace the woman that gave you life.

Record in your memory every wrinkle on her face (most of which are likely from you). Get a whiff of her hair, her perfume, her essence and take a mental snapshot to add to your treasured memory collection. Ask her about growing up. Lessons she learned. Difficulties she overcame. Just be present and adore the woman that has always adored you.

Lastly, to the woman with two sons. To the woman that struggled to bring those sons into the world. To the woman that silently (not so silently) fought devastating emotional battles followed by experiencing greater joy than ever imagined. To that woman, I say, be present.

Revel in the rebellion of the two little weasels you dared to believe would ever be yours. Run your fingers through the hair of your baby turned man-child and pull your older child into a giant momma bear hug. Once he quits fighting, gently release him with a top-of-the-head kiss and silent prayer of protection. Ask them questions and really, truly, actively listen to their answers. Engage in a passionate, interested, ethereal way that draws you close and further tightens that mother-son unbreakable bond you hoped, prayed, dared to believe would ever be yours.

To this woman, to myself, I say, be grateful.

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