Mother’s Day is hard for me. My mother died unexpectedly when I was twenty-three, and each minor and major holiday passing reminds me she’s not here. As Spring rolls into Summer, Mother’s Day and my birthday bring with them a twinge of sadness.
Mother’s Day in May and my birthday in June. My mom’s birthday was one day after mine, on June 5th. We used to celebrate our birthdays together. That made me feel special, as if I had a unique connection to my mom that my siblings didn’t share. If I was born so close to her birthday that must mean something, right? I was a little, albeit pudgy, gift sent as a special treat for her birthday. Last year on your birthday you didn’t have me; this year you do. How cool is that?
I wish we could still celebrate our birthdays together. I wish I could send her a Mother’s Day card thanking her for all she did for me growing up, because I never really appreciated her until after she was gone.
Maybe that’s why Mother’s Day is so hard. I should have told my mom how much she meant to me while she was still alive, and I didn’t. I missed my chance, and now she’s gone forever.