I found it hard not to be sad today. I woke up and picked up my phone, as I always do, and saw the stream of tweets and Facebook updates about Mothers’ Day. My lovely women friends, describing their gifts and cards, their breakfasts in bed, the handicrafts brought home from school and pre-school in sticky fists and handed over with love. Those didn’t make me sad. I smiled, and clicked ‘like this’, and rolled over and relished the fact that a lie-in is pretty normal here, with no babies or toddlers to wrench me from my bed. I made the right choice, it suits me.
It’s the things I didn’t choose that make me sad. I miss my Mom. We sent flowers to my Mother in Law and I was happy that she loved them, and I don’t find myself having panic attacks in card shops when I choose a card for her these days. But there’s a weird sort of limbo about Mothers’ Day when it doesn’t really touch you. As a woman who is not a mother and no longer has a mother, I felt a bit…well, out of the loop.
I mused on this throughout the morning, and when a series of unfortunate events (i.e. a phone call from The Bloke’s work) meant our plans to go out for a walk were scuppered, I took my camera out into the garden to see what was happening out there. It seemed appropriate that a clump of Forget-Me-Nots have come up, presenting their first flowers of the year as a tiny, perfect posy; and this, and the fact that I will NEVER forget, is my token of appreciation for my Mom.