This was the first Mother’s Day without my
mother. I tripped when I wandered by
mistake into the grocery aisle with all the cards, the candy, the flowers, but
I soldiered on and browsed at all the pretty things, knowing some other Mommy
would be enjoying all those little trinkets.
I
always bought childish cards for my mom though I haven’t been one in a long,
long time. She would get a kick out of
my nonsense. She would giggle and show
it off over and over. “Aye, que muchacha.”
These
last few years I stopped buying her presents and enclosed money, cold hard
cash, into her envelope. We never said
it out loud, but we both knew she wouldn’t live to see things wear out, so why
not spend it NOW, since she couldn’t take it with her? I also learned my lesson the year I spent
hours and hours (and a big chunk of change) selecting a present only to find it
on her sales table at a garage sale two months later. We laughed about that and
her audacity at trying to sell it back to me “for a price.” “Te lo doy barato.”
I
loved my mom. I miss her, but I do not
wish her back. She is where she needs to be, and I am here. She is at rest and enjoying glory.
My
loss does not keep me from celebrating Mother’s Day. Almost every woman I know
has been a mom or a parent or a caregiver at some point in their lives, so why
not enjoy the day, besides I don’t really believe in waiting to tell folks how
much we love them on only one designated day of the year.
You
see, my mom and I did it right. We
fought with each other, yet afterwards, we asked each other’s forgiveness and
made up. There were times we hurt or disappointed each other, but yet again, we
asked for forgiveness and made up. She wasn’t perfect and neither am I, but she
was my mother, my strongest ally, my truest friend.
On
the day before she passed away, she asked us to honor her DNR. She also asked
us to celebrate her life, so we made sure to do what she asked. “Gracias,
hija.”
The day she died was our last Mother’s
Day. She was a strong woman and taught us to be strong, so we said our goodbyes like the grown women we are.
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