Philosophical Monday: Not So Happy Mother’s Day
So I hate Mothers Day, have done so since my mother died in 1996, and I realized that what used to be a cute little holiday, was acutally a 2-4 week reminder that I no longer had a living mother. It’s not a time when I’m at my best. I have little to no tolerance for friends who complain about their mothers, and the only reason I don’t say, “Well, at least you still have a mother,” is because it would be cliche and I dislike cliche more than I dislike people who complain about their mothers around Mother’s Day. Still, I become insanely jealous that so many people seem to have still-living mothers, and I wonder why I got put on the list of people who don’t. Brothers & Sisters is one of my favorite shows, but right around Mothers Day, I want to slap each and everyone of the privileged Walker siblings every time they say yet another mean word to their mother, Nora (as played by the wonderful Sally Fields).
It’s gotten better over the years, what used to be a general month-long funk decreased to a week, then after I got my radio writing job down to a mere weekend, because I was way too busy to dwell on being a motherless child.
Last year was the best actually, b/c CH’s birthday was on Mother’s Day, so I got to concentrate on the happy celebration of his birth as opposed to what had become for me the most depressing holiday of the year.
Now this is usually the part of the blogumn where I stop complaining and say something positive, life-affirming, or aspirational. And actually my Mothers Day weekend was working out that way.
On Thursday, I watched the first half of Martha Stewart with my MIL, musing over the fact that guest star, Jim Parson’s (Sheldon from Big Bang Theory) helmet-haired Texan mother, looked and talked exactly how you’d expect his BBT’s character’s mother to look and act, if television weren’t so insistent on casting thin, glamourous in the roles of mothers. On Friday, we turned on the TV to show my GIL the Mothers Day episode of Ellen, which an unborn Betty and I had been on last year, and we completely freaked when we saw that Betty’s picture had been included in the pics of the babies of last year’s audience members. When I went to bed on Saturday after a lovely day spent with CH’s family, I had my blogumn all planned out. This would be my first official year as a mom myself. I was sure that would erase the sad taint of the holiday.
Not so much.
I woke up on Sunday morning with the same crushing depression that I’ve woken up with every year. It took me forever to get up and start getting ready, and when I finally did I was rushed with hypotheticals like, “What do you think Mom would have been like now at the age of 62? What would her hair have looked like?” Then things started getting darker. “Too bad she never got to meet CH. Too bad she never got to meet her granddaughter. Too bad, she never got to see all the work she put into me payoff.” Then it got even darker. A thorough examination of my mother’s life: the changes I wish she had made while still alive, the regrets I still have for her, the questions that will forever go unanswered, the anger that she died without any warning whatsoever.
The next thing I knew, I was on the edge of tears. Even though my mother has been dead for almost fourteen years. Even though I’m a mother myself now.
I’m still rather surprised that the depression returned this year, but then again, these things take time. Grief, as it turns out, is not something that you just get over. It’s a lifelong process. I hugged and kissed my daughter even more yesterday, and comforted myself with the fact that it was better than Mothers Days of the past. And next year it will be even better. And then it will keep on getting better, until one Mothers Day I’ll wake up and the grief will only be a fleeting thought in a day filled with happiness and light. Until then, as a fortune cookie once told me, “There is little that can’t be healed with patience and time.”
I love you
I love you
Wow – yesterday was my first Mother(less) Day and I thought I was done crying, and then I read this. Beautifully written and I guess comforting to know I'm not alone, not alone by a long shot.
Not, by a long shot, E. I've been overwhelmed by the response to this article. And though I would never wish a dead mother on anyone else, it also gives me comfort that we're not alone in not enjoying this holiday, when it looks like everyone else is.
Wow – yesterday was my first Mother(less) Day and I thought I was done crying, and then I read this. Beautifully written and I guess comforting to know I'm not alone, not alone by a long shot.
Not, by a long shot, E. I've been overwhelmed by the response to this article. And though I would never wish a dead mother on anyone else, it also gives me comfort that we're not alone in not enjoying this holiday, when it looks like everyone else is.
What a great post, Ernessa! Thanks for sharing!
What a great post, Ernessa! Thanks for sharing!
Hey Ness,
We never talk about it but that is another bond that we cousins share on that wonderfully sad holiday.
I too still have a hard time getting up on the right side of the bed that day ;-(
You said everything anyone who has experienced this loss probably thinks on Mothers Day and numberless other days. Time does make it better but the ache from that loss never goes away.
Love you
I often think of you on Mother's Day, too, b/c you also went through this in college. What's funny is her birthday comes and goes and it hasn't been a big deal for a while now. But there's just something about Mother's Day…
Hey Ness,
We never talk about it but that is another bond that we cousins share on that wonderfully sad holiday.
I too still have a hard time getting up on the right side of the bed that day ;-(
You said everything anyone who has experienced this loss probably thinks on Mothers Day and numberless other days. Time does make it better but the ache from that loss never goes away.
Love you
I often think of you on Mother's Day, too, b/c you also went through this in college. What's funny is her birthday comes and goes and it hasn't been a big deal for a while now. But there's just something about Mother's Day…
Thank for this post, it was touching and sincere. As an occasional mother-complainer, it does me good to be reminded of what I have. Much love
Oh, I was afraid this might happen. Seriously, other people can complain about their mothers, just like people can complain about any loved one. It's irrational on my part for me to get annoyed with people who complain about their mothers. The fact is that if my mother were still alive, I'd be complaining about her. I'll have to go into this more deeply in a full post one day, but the sad thing is that humans are incapable of fully appreciating other humans until their gone. That's just the way we work. But really I'd rather no one have to learn the lesson of full-on appreciation, if it means losing a loved one.
Thank for this post, it was touching and sincere. As an occasional mother-complainer, it does me good to be reminded of what I have. Much love
Oh, I was afraid this might happen. Seriously, other people can complain about their mothers, just like people can complain about any loved one. It's irrational on my part for me to get annoyed with people who complain about their mothers. The fact is that if my mother were still alive, I'd be complaining about her. I'll have to go into this more deeply in a full post one day, but the sad thing is that humans are incapable of fully appreciating other humans until their gone. That's just the way we work. But really I'd rather no one have to learn the lesson of full-on appreciation, if it means losing a loved one.
Thanks Ernessa. I have the same reaction to mother's day since my mother died in 1991. Its not as intense as it once was, but its just that constant reminder of everything we never had together.
I know what you mean. I think what I most have trouble with is the memories we weren't able to make. It wasn't just her death, but the death of our future selves together.
Thanks Ernessa. I have the same reaction to mother's day since my mother died in 1991. Its not as intense as it once was, but its just that constant reminder of everything we never had together.
I know what you mean. I think what I most have trouble with is the memories we weren't able to make. It wasn't just her death, but the death of our future selves together.
I so feel you on this. I have mourned my mother's death as a mother more than I did when she died. It's like you said. It's a process.
I so feel you on this. I have mourned my mother's death as a mother more than I did when she died. It's like you said. It's a process.
Yes, it feels like I’m actually feeling her loss at a deeper level now that I’m a mom. What a surprise. When I was younger, I felt that having children would be a magic elixir. But now I see that it really is just a matter of time and working through this new set of emotions.
ETA … I mourn my mother's death more today than I did when she died. I know you read a lot. If you get a chance, read Motherless Mother's by Hope Edelman. That is, if you haven't read it already.
I haven't read it, but I'm putting it in my Amazon cart right now. Thanks!
ETA … I mourn my mother's death more today than I did when she died. I know you read a lot. If you get a chance, read Motherless Mother's by Hope Edelman. That is, if you haven't read it already.
I haven't read it, but I'm putting it in my Amazon cart right now. Thanks!
I struggled with with whether or not I should post a comment…it seems wrong since my own mother is very much alive. I know it is not the same, but on Mother’s Day and on her birthday I find myself asking those very same questions about my Nana Mary, who passed away in 2002. I often wish that she had gotten to met my son, Sekou, and when he pokes his lip out like she used to it makes me sad and happy at the same time. I miss her terribly and that feeling is only magnified on those days.
I hope you're kidding about almost not posting a comment. Grief isn't the Olympics, don't worry. I know you miss your Nana Mary. I miss her, too. It's tough when loved ones don't live long enough to see your children.
I struggled with with whether or not I should post a comment…it seems wrong since my own mother is very much alive. I know it is not the same, but on Mother’s Day and on her birthday I find myself asking those very same questions about my Nana Mary, who passed away in 2002. I often wish that she had gotten to met my son, Sekou, and when he pokes his lip out like she used to it makes me sad and happy at the same time. I miss her terribly and that feeling is only magnified on those days.
I hope you're kidding about almost not posting a comment. Grief isn't the Olympics, don't worry. I know you miss your Nana Mary. I miss her, too. It's tough when loved ones don't live long enough to see your children.
I love this post, thank you for writing it.
That means a lot coming from you, Liz.
I love this post, thank you for writing it.
That means a lot coming from you, Liz.