Well, I made it through my second Mother's Day without my mom. I always feel like actually surviving these milestones is a huge accomplishment. My boyfriend and I bought a house and set the closing for the Friday before Mother's Day on purpose so that I would have something to really distract me from the holiday. Not that I ever stopped dreading the day inside or forgot what the day was, but being all excited about the new house really helped me for the most part. It was a great plan until it backfired. I forgot that I have a lot of my mom's things I would have to go through while packing and moving. I found a lot of her clothes, her glasses, a mystery book she'd been reading and never got to finish, one of the tabloid magazines we'd laughed over on her birthday last year, a big stack of cards people had sent her while she was in the hospice and cards people had sent me after her death, and several things we'd taken to the hospice. There were also pamphlets the hospice had given us about dealing with cancer and coping with death. The thing that made me lose it the most was a packet of cryptogram puzzles I had made for her. She loved doing those, and I used to make them for her a lot just for fun. I would make the puzzles favorite quotes about mothers or sayings she had ingrained in me my whole life or things we thought were funny. There was also a crossword I had made about all her favorite TV shows. I've made puzzles for her like that since I was little, and she always humored me by doing them and always acted like they were the most creative, wonderful thing she'd ever seen. Seeing her handwriting where she'd filled in the answers was comforting and heartwrenching at the same time. I also found some cards I had made for her for the Mother's Day before she died and several notes where I'd written MOM IS A TURD (don't ask me where that came from, but it's been a joke since as far back as I can remember.) When I went through her clothes, I was actually able to bag up a lot for Goodwill because a lot of the clothes were just clothes...nothing she wore a lot or that I really associate with her. A year or so ago, I wouldn't even have been able to part with any of it, even things I knew she'd never worn. But there were a few things she ALWAYS wore that were completely "her," and I didn't part with those. She had two nightgown-type robes that my grandmother, her mother, gave her years ago - one teal and one pink- and she wore them so much she almost wore them out. Our cats loved to sleep in her lap when she was wearing those. There were also a couple shirts she wore all the time that had gotten ragged. When my mom was young, she was a real fashion plate. She got her hair done once a week and always had to have the latest fashions and makeup - that definitely passed down to me! Not that I'm a fashion plate like she was, but the near obsession with clothes and makeup is definitely there. But when she got older and started working at home for herself, she stopped really caring about her appearance at all. It wasn't until she started working outside the house again, as a bagger at Publix, that she started caring again, and not that she became obsessive, but it was really nice to see her taking pride in herself again and developing the self-confidence that she had let wither away for so many years. She loved that job! She was a people-watcher and was endlessly fascinated just seeing strange people in public. The job got her out of the house and let her people-watch all day long! She was so proud of herself for getting back out there and never looked at it as "just" a bagging job. She made so many friends with the customers there that people were constantly trying to tip her even though Publix doesn't allow it and she could get in trouble if she accepted any. She politely refused a tip from one lady, and the lady just wouldn't hear of it, so she left the tip on her cart and promptly walked away...she wanted my mom to have it and reasoned that my mom couldn't get in trouble if it was just money she "found" and no one had handed it to her. She'd only been working there for a short time when we found out she had cancer, and it wasn't long before she had to quit working there. They told her she'd have a job there again once she recovered, but of course she didn't recover. Even her boss, a mean tyrant of a man who was known for making employees cry, had been won over by my mom's relentless kindness and humor to the point where he considered her a friend and my dad saw him shed tears at her funeral. I'm just rambling on now from my original talking about moving and going through her things, but I'm so glad my mom got that job even for a short while...we got to see the old Marilyn come back out again and see her start to like herself again and feel proud of herself. Anyway, I bawled for a couple hours while going through her things on Mother's Day and said out loud a few times, "I miss you, Mommy." I cried hard and got it out. At 6:00, we went to my boyfriend's mom's house for Mother's Day dinner. His aunt, uncle, cousin, and grandfather were also there. At first I was nervous about going to celebrate another mom, but I adore her, and without actually saying anything directly about it, they were very considerate of how I was holding up and how the day was difficult for me. The next day during more moving, his stepdad asked me if Mother's Day had been hard and how I was doing, and he let me talk about it. I'm so grateful that they know the right balance for touchy things like this...they seem to be careful not to say anything that would hurt me but don't walk on ice not to bring it up either. It's nice that they pay enough attention to days that they know will be hard for me. Some people tend to forget about things like that, but I've been lucky in that the people who are closest to me don't forget. Anyway, so I made it through. I guess the next big one is going to be trying to make it through my birthday again. That was the worst "holiday" I experienced after she died. For now, I'll start unpacking and making our new house a home. Several things have happened since we decided to buy this house that make me believe my mom's blessing is on both of us and that she approves of him and trusts him with me.
One evening as I was leaving work, I was overwhelmed with frustration and fear about leaving my house, the only place I've ever lived by myself and that symbolizes my capabilities to me. I wasn't questioning at all whether I was doing the right thing and with the right person. I was just scared. I started crying at work (thankfully, no one else was there) and was panicking a little. I went to get on the elevator to leave and as soon as the doors opened, I saw a shiny penny on the floor inside. I think I've mentioned more than once that my mom had a thing for pennies, and to see it sitting there waiting for me right when I was scared and freaking out, I couldn't help but be reassured like she was telling me everything really was going to be okay. Then on Cinco de Mayo (which, incidentally was the day my first cat passed away a few years ago), my boyfriend came over so we could make Mexican food. I was feeling sad and scared again. He called me when he was parked outside and said, "If you look out your front door, I think you can see your bunny!" That would be THE bunny I've written about several times. I had prayed and prayed so hard that I would see him one more time before I move and was beginning to get depressed that I hadn't, and I knew I only had a week left to live there. I looked out the front door, and sure enough, there he was. He was sitting right next to my front porch. I looked at him and he looked at me for a while, and then he hopped into the backyard. I ran to the back door to see him and he was sitting at the top of the hill back there. My boyfriend happened to have a camera from work in his car and took some more pictures (I'll add them when I get them on my computer). The bunny let him get about ten feet away from him, which is extremely close for a wild rabbit. He just sat there letting him take flash pictures of him over and over! After a while, he decided it was time to hop into the brush and we couldn't see him anymore. But it made me feel wonderful. God and my mom knew I needed that, and it almost made me feel singled out and special. :)
There's never any replacement for having my mom physically here with me. Nothing could ever come close to seeing her beautiful smile, hearing her audibly say, "I love you," or feeling her hug. But there are times when I actually catch myself feeling a little bit lucky that my mom can see me wherever I go and can watch out for me and know if what I'm doing is the best thing for me or not. She seems to "contact" me most when I'm the most upset about something just to let me know to calm down and I will be alright, and it really does help to reassure me.
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