Time is meaningless, it flies by and it stands still. Time is not kind, in fact, it’s kinda cruel. It’s almost Mother’s Day, the day set aside to honor one’s mother. Honoring one’s mother is a personal preference; not all mothers are worthy of honor, or respect, or love. I don’t know what it’s like for someone on Mother’s Day, or any other day, to have a mother they would rather forget.
I have been fortunate to have a good, kind, and caring mother. She will be gone two years shortly after Mother’s Day. As if Mother’s Day doesn’t hurt me enough by her absence, I have the anniversary of her death to look forward to two weeks later.
The expression “time heals all wounds” is a lie. Time has not dulled the pain I feel. It has not lifted the fog I sometimes find myself in and it has not healed my loss. I miss my mother the same today as I did yesterday and will tomorrow. My grief doesn’t recognize a clock and it has no expiration date. It just is. It ebbs and flows in a cycle beyond my control.
I love and honor my mother no less on the other 364 days of the year. I honor her in the memories I recall, full of life’s laughter and tears. I honor her in the respect I have for all she did for me throughout my life. I honor her by striving to live true to the lessons, wisdom, and morals she instilled in me.
Yet Mother’s Day was and still is special to me. I took pleasure and care to reaffirm my love and gratitude to my mom. Whether I was near or not it was something I looked forward to doing. It didn’t always have to be a brunch, a gift, or even a visit but it was always special words and a special heartfelt expression of love.
I still honor that tradition, just in a different way and right now with more sorrow than happiness because I miss her so much. Although I know I will always miss her, I hope one day those emotions will reverse, but that time hasn’t come yet.
My mother lives in my heart, where she guides me through the pain of grief, and it’s there I honor her every moment of every day.