I am struggling with what to say for Mother’s Day because it’s not just about my motherhood, but about my mom and the loss of her son, and it’s about the children of my friend Kara, recently slipping away to Heaven, and leaving them wondering what to do as their classmates create Mother’s Day crafts to bring home to a warm embrace. It’s about driving Kara’s van and thinking of the time she spent in that seat, speaking love and kindness into the hearts of her children, and the echo now in the silence of her absence.These losses forever change the innocence of a day that is supposed to be about flowers picked by tiny hands, and home-made coupon books for chores, and backrubs, and breakfast in bed.
There are mothers that long to be acknowledged, validated, understood by our tired eyes and ponytails and minivans, and insanely proud-happy smiles when we look in the faces of our little sweetlings. There are also mothers unseen, with a sadness behind their eyes and perfectly vacuumed cars because the little ones that made them mothers have slipped from this life, leaving aching holes that aren’t filled, and often aren’t acknowledged.
Have a compassionate heart this Mother’s Day and climb into the shoes of a grieving mother or a motherless child, and just sit with them right in the middle of their tears; just be. There is salt poured into an open wound on this day, and souls just wanting, needing to be recognized, loved, met where they are.
For all the mothers, seen and unseen, this day is for you. Even separated by life and death, you are still a mother, you are.
For all the children with hearts aching for the love of a mother, or grieving the loss of a mother, you are her baby, you will always be her baby, from now until forever.