The title says it all. This is the third Mother's Day since I became an adult orphan. I've been working on a longer post that I intended to use today, but since Mother's Day and the anniversary of her death come so close together, I've decided to save it for the end of the month and use it for the anniversary. It still needs some tweaking I'm not up to doing right now.
Instead, some random thoughts and a special treat in a bit.
For the last few years, we hadn't really done anything special for Mother's Day itself. Usually, we'd save it until the end of the month and go to the big Memorial Day Flea Market together. I'd either buy breakfast or lunch, and we'd call that Mother's Day. Going to the big flea market by myself hasn't been the same.
One of the hardest things about having cancer is that it's put that need back in me to pick up the phone and call her to talk about things. I want to know if this is how she felt. I want to know if I responded right when she felt that way. I'd never felt unsure about anything we did, until I had to start having chemo too. And what I am going through is nothing compared to what she did. I'm still fat with a head of hair. She looked like a concentration camp victim when she died. I remember showing her ID to people in the nursing home and hospice, just so they could see her with hair. She would have killed me if she knew the number of people I let see her without her teeth in.
But I can't pick up the phone and make that call. It really throws me to have that feeling again now, all this time later. Cancer--dredging up old shit since 2103. It's some kind of really bizarre, really delayed survivor's guilt, I guess. But it's the one feeling from this whole experience I can't seem to process. Fuck Cancer anyway.
But, I promised you a treat. How about Emmylou Harris and her own daughters? Seriously sweet.
I hope that you're having a good Mother's Day. Be good to your mothers while you have them.