I’m currently in Naples, Florida for Wiley’s sales meeting. I love the time in Florida and, to some extent, find it re-energizing to be away from home. But in turn, life is not moving at its usual hectic pace so it also gives me time to think and reflect. With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I often remember my mom around this time of the year. In 2006, Mother’s Day was the last time that I talked to my mom before she died on June 23rd. And before that, it had been Easter Sunday (beginning of April). What I remember most is how poorly our conversation went. I had taken great care that year to find her nice coffee mugs and some biscotti to have with her daily coffee. I was completely disappointed that day when she told me that she apparently misread the mailing label and thought that they were from my brother and sister-in-law (also named Jen). I was crushed. First of all, they wouldn’t mail her something since they live only 20 mins away. And why would my SIL buy her a Mother’s Day gift - their relationship was like oil and water most times. This also happened to be my FIRST Mother’s Day. Little A was 11 months old and I was celebrating my own rite to motherhood. Several people in my family circle, including my dad and my good friend, had sent me gifts. My mother did not send me anything and did not acknowledge MY Mother’s Day until the end when I told her that we were going out for dinner for Mother’s Day. Her response was “Oh yeah, this is your first Mother’s Day.” That was it. I was devastated. Obviously…because 3 years later I am still thinking about it.
Then she died. And a year later, I spent Mother’s day with my Dad and our family (extended). My brother and sister were so depressed that year and holed themselves into their own world. I reminded them that this was also my day and that though I missed our mother, I was going to celebrate my motherhood with my children. You’d have thought that I’d burned their souls. I’m heading back to NJ again this year to celebrate and I hope that it ends up better. I think that it will.
I’ve noted several times here that things with mom were not good for the last year of her life. We fought about everything from her dependence on pain medications to her insistence that my stepfather be called “Grandpa” - a horrifying request considering some of the things that happened between this man and her children…nothing physical but the emotional abuse in our home was choking and we could not wait to break free, even if it meant leaving her behind. So part of me feels extreme guilt and the other part is angry. And it seems to start every year around this week and drift away around the beginning of July. I know the reasons but I have trouble getting beyond it. I wish that I’d talked to her more those last few months, but it was unbearable listening to her recreate the past for her “own world” and give up her independent soul to make her husband happy and - as she put it - “make her life easier.”
My heart just ache sometimes…
